#it normally gives me more than one card per shuffle but this time it only gave me one card per year so yay

[tadpoles-and-daydreams]

I'm graduating today! Could I get a general 3 card reading for ups and downs over the next 3 years?

Of course! Here you go :D I realized that this may not have been the intended format you wanted, whoops- but I hope it's good and resonates nonetheless. Just as in every post, my Ko-Fi will be at the end for those who want to tip and are financially able as well as anyone interested who just happens to see the post, but it's not a weird social pressure to do so or anything!

Year 1- Princess of Swords: Inquisitive, Verbose, lively. You have lots of ideas for your future, and this is a year to be putting those ideas into action! over the next year, you'll have plenty of opportunities, so keep going. Spreading your ideas and connecting with others will be helpful, and this will be a time period of high energy and lots of learning. Go after what you want, keep asking "why," and don't try to contain your creativity and intelligence! Overall, Princess of Swords feels like a time of going for it with everything you have, so don't hold back.

Year 2- Nine of Wands: Widsdom, Perseverance, Last stretch. You've spent the last year going for it with all you've got; this card implies that that will be tested. You're almost there, but there's some sort of delay or setback, and it's reasonably just frustrating- but trust in your strength. You have the wisdom and skills gained in the previous year; planning ahead and utilizing calm, steady problem-solving skills are the way to go. You now have the abilities and confidence you need to make it through things, so don't give up hope. Nine of wands is a card of challenge, yes, but it's a really optimistic card! It's a challenge you can and will get through, so keep going.

Year 3- Six of Cups: Familiarity, Innocence, Nostalgia. After that challenge, you might be longing for simpler times- which is understandable! Growing up is hard, becoming an adult is scary, and you might find yourself missing the comfort of childhood. Take this time to rediscover yourself and learn what you're like as an adult. Allow yourself to work with your inner child rather than suppress it. Even as responsibilities might weigh on you, have fun! Find joy in the mundane, make every moment count, do what you can to keep joy and playfulness in your life. Comfort yourself and continue your life with the knowledge that no matter how hard it gets, you'll always be able to fit in a little happiness nonetheless.

Thank you for the ask! I appreciate any feedback even if it's just a quick ask/reply/reblog saying whether or not the reading resonated, and I'm happy to answer any questions. Here's my Ko-Fi:

[havnblog]

Guide to card sleeves

«Why?»

Lenke til norsk versjon

Card protectors, or sleeves, are perhaps the most common accessory for games. There are two main reasons for sleeving your games:

To protect the cards (kinda says so on the tin)

To increase the sense of quality, much like component upgrades

The protection part is especially important if the cards are of high value and/or gets shuffled a lot. Both are true with most collectable card games (CCGs), like Magic The Gathering – and this is why the sizes used for these games has the best selection. Shuffling with sleeved cards feels a lot better than unsleeved, so that affects both point 1 and 2. You can also get them with matte finish, to reduce glare.

Here’s a guide to how you should proceed if you want to sleeve:

First, figure out what kind of sleeves you need. There is an annoying amount of different sizes, and many of them are very similar. Sleeve Your Games is a great website and service, where you can search for games and find out what size and quantity you require.

Next, you need to decide if you want matte or glossy sleeves. I prefer matte, for readability. However, glossy ones make the colours on the cards pop more!

«What kind of sleeves should I buy?»

To navigate the jungle of different makers and types, I’ve divided the crop into three quality tiers, and I’ll give my recommendations for each tier. When settling on a tier, the amount of protection ain’t that important, as they’re all good enough. (This isn’t the article for someone wondering how to best protect The Power Nine – this is geared towards «normal» board and card games.) So, it’s about how much you care about the sense of quality and how much money you want to spend. Furthermore, I highly recommend you stick to only one or two kinds of sleeves, so you don’t have to keep track of different types and so you always get to use all the sleeves in a package. If you have several types, you’ll end up with 10 sleeves here and 5 sleeves there from packs you didn’t use all the sleeves.

Tier 1: Cheap and fine

A good indicator for the quality of the sleeve is the thickness, often given in microns (µm). The cheapest are usually around 60 µm, like the regular ones from Sleeve Kings, which is my recommendation here. From time to time, they run Kickstarter campaigns where you can get them even cheaper, but they’re always cheap! They cost about 2.25 ¢ per unit ($2-3 for a 110 pack).

Even the product picture looks cheap.

Plus:

Price

Good selection of sizes

Price

Minus:

They feel a bit loose or sloppy around the cards

Not available in matte

Tier 2: Solid

My choice here falls on Gamegenic Prime. They come in at 100 µm, can be found in both matte and glossy and is available in «all» sizes. They cost about 5.5 ¢ per unit ($2.5-4 for a 50 pack).

Plus:

Good middle ground between quality and price

Good selection of sizes

Minus:

A bit slippery

Tier 3: Premium

I do not recommend anyone buying sleeves of this quality and price point for normal games. It’s totally unnecessary, and I love it. «Luckily» for me, the selection in sizes is poor, as these are made for CCGs. So, for me, only one size is relevant: What’s usually referred to as «Standard Card Game». My favourite here is Dragon Shield.

The variant on the left is slightly better.

They cost about 12 ¢ per unit (😬) (€12 for a 100 pack) – but what makes them so good? First of all, they are 120 µm, so nice and thick.

Dragon Shield (L) and Gamegenic (R).

As you can see on the picture, the Dragon Shields are a bit larger, relative to the card, compared to the Gamegenics. This creates a pleasant frame around the card, in my opinion. Moreover, the cards sit more securely and are lovely to shuffle. My favourite detail, however, is that they have a textured back side, which creates a nice feel and also might contribute to the fact that they don’t slide as much when they are stacked. You can get them in both matte and glossy and in a huge number of colours. The last thing might come in handy if you need to change the backside of the cards for some reason. They also come with a box you can use for storing.

Think of Dragon Shields like something you splurge on for your favourite games, like Geek Up bits.

Plus:

Great «hand feel»

Wonderful to shuffle

Textured backside

Good colour reproduction while still stopping glare

Minus:

Price

The size sometimes makes them not fit in inserts

Price

Negatives to sleeving

Well, it cost money – and a lot of it if you’re as stupid as me and get Dragon Shields. Also, it can create troubles for inserts and boxes in general.

The Innovation box used to be the size of the Red7 box, but not after I sleeved...

Arcane Tinmen, Gamegenic, Dragon Shields.

On the picture above, I’m trying to show how much taller the stacks get (it’s about 30 cards). Something I noticed, was that the Gamegenics actually made the stack taller than the Dragon Shields. However, I think this is because the latter had been under pressure in the Innovation box.

When I press down, you can see that the Dragon Shields are thicker.

I don't recommend Arcane Tinmen. More expensive, but worse, compared to Gamegenic.

Here you can see what I had to do to fit the sleeved cards in the Jaipur insert.

But it looks OK with the cards inside!

But the lid doesn't close quite as tight as before - but no rubber band needed.

To be fair, sleeving most games is a bit over the top – especially with anything more expensive than Gamegenics. But if there are some games you play a lot and the cards get shuffled, I think it’s worth it. Personally, I’ve gone for Gamegenics for most games, but buying Dragon Shields for games that uses that size and that «deserve it».

[psychelis-new]

Hello, I hope you're doing great.

I had a query and wanted some clarification as well as some advice if you're fine with it :)

I recently started doing tarot and obviously do some basic yes and no or light questions because I have difficulty interpreting the set of cards together.

Anyway, there's one question, everytime I ask it, the cards like fly out but not one or two three, basically bundles, the shuffling is very, like I don't know how to explain it but busy, everything seems like coming out at one, and it happens throughout. Also, this has always happened only during that one question. It just intrigued me so I thought I should ask.

Also, what does a horizontal card means as I found mixed answers so I am not sure.

Also, can you recommend a good site or something to learn from, that would be great :)

Thank you so much❤

Hello!

First of all, I want to remind you that reading for ourselves can be complicated cause we are often biased and at time blind to some messages (this not cause you're a beginner, this happens to basically every reader: you'd need to treat yourself as "coldly" as any stranger online to read properly). Therefore my suggestion is to try and learn to read for others first or at least, to ask about things you're not too attached to and see if they make sense. Give yourself time to understand the different cards' general meanings (maybe give one main meaning to each of them: you can find them on google's research pages eg. search for "the world card meaning" and you'll get a bunch of meanings; you can use your intuition to get the right one for your question or a main general one to adapt eg. completion). Ask for 1 card answer if you can and when you cannot get the meaning with 1 card (or you feel there's more -always trust your intuition) ask for a clarification card. We generally read not just the cards and the images they portray (this will come with time btw, go slow) but also the energy that is present in the reading so it may be that sometimes a card can have a totally different meaning from the usual one (but again it will come with time and practice, for now focus on the basics).

Now, coming to your question: it can happen that the answer to a question is a bit more complex or your guides have a lot to say about that, so many cards may fly out when you ask for it. Or maybe you're confused yourself when asking it (questions need to be as clear and easy as possible, especially at first: maybe you can divide your question in 2-3 easier ones). Generally it's a question that may not be easily answered by a single card, but you can still ask to go card by card. I usually do this when I happen to get more than one card and it confuses me: "Thank you, but can I please have one or two cards max about it?" ask again and see how it goes. If you can grasp a message, fine, if not, ask for clarification (I'd suggest max. 2 cards per time anyway). Also it's okay if it's hard for cards to come out and you need to shuffle for a certain amount of time, complex messages do require certain answers and specific cards. Stay focused on your question though.

Horizontal cards can mean a mixed/uncertain answer but you can trust your intuition in deciding if it has to be read as mixed, normal or reversed: I'd generally go for normal/reversed (unless it's obviously confused) so look at the card in both ways and go as you feel (or you can ask again if you have doubts or ask for clarifications). This aside, since you're a beginner, I would suggest to take all the cards as normal and leave reverse for later on. Learn the "positive" meanings for cards, get used to them, and then you can move on to the reversed ones. Many readers also completely avoid reading reversed, it's all up to you and what works for you.

Every reader has their own way to read cards, I tend to call myself a bit unconventional in that and how I learned it (by myself and with the help/guidance of my Guides... also I mostly use tarots as support). I don't really know of websites that can help you but I know @/helianthus-tarot has a guide for beginner tarot readers and helps in interpretations and tbh there was @/pbstarot helping in tarots interpretations too but I think the blog is now closed :/ Dunno about much else sorry! If someone has resources, feel free to add them in comments here, thanks.

Best of luck in your journey btw!

[illumilu]

“there’s only one bed” - hisoka morow x reader

a/n: a very stereotypical cliche for fanfics, but, yk what? i roll with cringe. so here, have my drabbling of what would happen if you were to spend an unwanted night in the same hotel bed as the adultrio. i feel like i may have made this a bit too long, but who cares?? i have time, you have time and an incandescent loneliness to fill, so let’s get into it!

summary: you arrive at the hotel with hisoka, but to your horror (wink wink), there’s only one bed. this is part one of a three-part series, with the adultrio. illumi and chrollo will be coming soon!

warnings: no particular trigger warnings, lowercase intended, a lot of fluff! and cuddling! i’m afraid there’s no nsfw here... keep in mind it’s hisoka - i kept it as pg as possible... may be ooc i’m sorry :)

hisoka morow:

- you arrived at your hotel room, tired from the trip there, not quite sure what to expect. you stared at the single bed placed in the middle of the room, aghast. there must have been some kind of mistake. except there wasn’t. the room had been booked out of simplicity, with no specification on the number of beds, or anything else for that matter.

- and, of course, the man you had booked this room with was none other than hisoka morow.

- otherwise known as the most flirtatious man on earth.

- a little bit of backstory; as your strictly professional colleague, hisoka was always taunting you with his charming little phrases, treating you like his little toy whom he could mess around with.

- “oh, y/n! whatever will we do~?” 

- you sighed in frustration. out of all the people you could have been stuck with on this trip, it had to be hisoka.

- hisoka sighed and pouted - not from worry or anguish - but, rather, to mock you. you shot him a dirty look.

- “my my, y/n... why so serious? it’s not like i’ll do anything~”

- the playful lilt in his voice suggested otherwise.

- while hisoka went off to take a shower, you busied yourself with your latest objective; making sure he couldn’t pull anything. being inventive as you were, you gathered all the pillows from the bed (which, for some reason, there were many of), and built a wall separating the two sides of the mattress.

- you got changed promptly, and lay on the left side of the bed, waiting for hisoka to come back. however, his shower ran for longer than expected, and soon enough you felt yourself becoming drowsy.

- just as you were about to fall asleep, you heard hisoka’s voice come from the other side of the room.

- he chuckled. “y/n, what do we have here? your latest invention~?” he teased, ridiculing you.

- “i don’t trust you.” you stated plainly, staring up at the ceiling. you couldn’t see him from across the strangely high pillow wall you had made, but you could feel him smirking. 

- “...and for good reason, y/n..” 

- he extended his arm and lazily ejected his bungee gum to attach to the pillows, knocking them over in an instant. damn. you thought you had made a pretty good structure. 

- you rolled over lethargically to see him standing there; what a sight.

- honestly, you didn’t mind hisoka. it was just... he often became... annoying. as much as he irritated you, you had to admit he was quite pretty. striking amber eyes, streaky plum hair that fell across his face, soft lips and an overall impressive facial structure. not to mention his unique fashion sense that somehow accentuated his toned body. porcelain skin, with his childish paint, which was so often called on by you - “hisoka, do you put that on every goddamn morning?” - he was a fine man. 

- but, when that bastard opened his mouth.

- what a contrary tale.

- he waltzed closer to the bed and eventually sat down with his legs crossed, like a child in a classroom - except, he was staring down at you, who was scowling at him.

- “hisoka. don’t pull anything. i’m going to sleep.” you ordered, rolling to your other side so you were now facing away from him.

- “oh y/n... but how could i resist you~?” he joked, lying down on his back, unnecessarily close to you. you tensed up. 

- “hisoka.” you warned. except you didn’t really sound like you were warning anyone. some undertones in your voice urged you to let things happen - for an uncertain millisecond, thoughts of letting hisoka do what he wanted plagued your mind.

- the millisecond passed soon enough.

- the jester turned to his side, so you were both facing the same direction and began whispering in your ear with a smile. why was his voice so... smooth? so succinct and mellow? that was not the type of person he was. so why did you want to melt into him? he giggled childishly. 

- “so... y/n... you wouldn’t mind if i did-”

- “-this!”

- all of a sudden, hisoka was embracing you, cuddling you and shoving his idiotic face into the crook of your neck.

- “HISOKA, YOU HAVE FIVE SECONDS TO GET OFF ME.”

- “oh, but if you wanted me off, couldn’t you simply give me a little kick~?”

- bright idea, madman. bright idea.

- you kicked him in the stomach, which invoked no painful reaction, but prompted him to roll to the other side of the bed, letting you escape from his clutches. 

- “ah. y/n, that hurt~” he exhaled tiredly, feigning offence; it was more of a hum, which escaped his mouth like golden honey pouring from a dipper.

- “good. don’t come near me again.” 

- “if that’s what you want, darling~”

- “don’t call me that, morow.” you glowered.

- “how scary... good night, y/n.”

- despite trying to hide it underneath his complacent ego, hisoka was beginning to worry. the man was attracted to essentially everyone, but something pulled him closer to you especially. you had a certain magnetism about you that he found increasingly attractive. why did he find teasing you so... enjoyable? why did he long for you to reciprocate? thoughts such as these had been swarming his subconscious since the beginning of the trip. he had pushed away such speculation, for it didn’t suit him.

- a man like him, a man who killed so depravedly, a man whom nothing was known about, an enigma of sorts; surely a man like that didn’t deserve to truly love. 

- meanwhile, your brain was a motor engine; what had just happened, and why did you let it go on for so long? you had the reflexes of an expert nen user; so why did you let him stay there, nuzzling into you, before socking him in the gut?

- what a conundrum, for the both of you. looks like this cliche is reaching its peak, hm?

- you fell asleep soon enough; after all, the trip had been long and you were tired. not only physically, but also emotionally. hisoka wasn’t helping your case.

- hisoka himself often had trouble sleeping, which many people didn’t know. most nights, he just lay there solemnly, thinking of new card tricks or enticements for new victims.

- lately, however, he had been thinking of you.

- which he didn’t like at all.

- time passed as his mind whirred while he contemplated who you were, and why you made him so impressionable. suddenly, he heard something.

- he had his back turned to you but heard a shuffling of bedsheets. what time was it? 1am? 2am? he couldn’t tell, but he came to the conclusion that you moved around when you slept and left it at that.

- that was, until, he felt someone cling around his back and reach across his chest firmly, wrapping around his waist with their leg.

- that someone was you.

- if only you knew what you were doing, you would be appalled... maybe a little grateful... but for the most part, appalled.

- your soft breath brushed hisoka’s back delicately, making his nerves transform into an quivery yet arrogant smirk. your arm was wrapped around his chest and your leg was draped across his side. you were obviously deeply sleeping. he couldn’t see you from the way you were embracing his back, but he could have easily woken you up at any given moment.

- so, why didn’t he wake you up?

- maybe it was because he could tease you about it in the morning. yeah. that seemed reasonable. that seemed alike to what hisoka would usually do.

- or maybe it was something else, something he didn’t want to come to terms with, something panging within his heart, something festering inside of him, something that was a victim to his ignorance of emotion. 

- much like he had done to you earlier, you burrowed into his shoulder, sighing contentedly, blissfully unaware of what was going on.

- blissfully unaware of the way you were ruling over hisoka, the way you were confusing him and making his emotions a tumultuous mess.

- surprisingly, you clinging to him helped him sleep, and within 15 minutes, hisoka was out like a light. though neither of you were conscious enough to experience it, those few hours you spent embracing each other felt tranquil. it almost felt normal, or like something that should have happened long ago, but never did.

- as peaceful as those hours were, the moment you woke up, everything crumbled into chaos. complete and utter mayhem - at least, on your part.

- you woke up calmly enough, as one usually does, without realising where you were or what you were doing. but, as soon as you registered that you weren’t hugging a pillow, but in fact a person, your reflexes triggered and you abruptly let go, jolting backwards and upright.

- oh my god. 

- not just a person.

- hisoka morow.

- you stared at him dozing away, like the little jerk he was.

- what had he done to you? had he put you under some spell? no, that wouldn’t make sense. he was a transmuter, not a manipulator. the bastard probably didn’t even know how to manipulate. then, what was it? was it his dumb bungee gum? your mind was racing 100 miles per hour, so you sat on the left side of the bed, sullen and confused.

- your side of the bed. the left side. the side you had so protectively proclaimed as “your side”. yet there you had been, on his side of the bed, cuddling him? what type of sorcery had he used to make you embrace him so passionately? 

- facing the wall, you rationalised yourself. hisoka wouldn’t have done anything, right? but neither would you. right? right?

- “awake, are we?” 

- hisoka interrupted your disarray of thoughts. you stood up and turned to look at him. he was propped up on the header of the bed, staring at you composedly. with those amber eyes. what was he on? why was he doing this to you?

- “you...” you began accusing him but couldn’t finish. looking at hisoka, he seemed... well-rested for once. did he even know what had happened? was he waiting for you to admit something?

- “i...? i what, y/n? use your words~” he cooed mischievously.

- oh, the jackass. he definitely knew.

- you glared at him, unable to compile your thoughts into words. you watched as he stood up and walked toward you, until he was standing opposite you, gazing into your eyes. he smiled knowingly at you, causing an surge of emotions to rush up your throat, inciting you to say something, to do something, anything. 

- “did you...”

- “no, y/n. it was you.” he simpered.

- oh.

- he raised his hand and pat you on the head, a sly and righteous smirk ceasing to wipe off his lips. he left to the bathroom, leaving you standing there, mouth agape, eyebrow twitching in annoyance. or perhaps, better said, in confusion. when did you start clinging to people like that? 

- why... did you feel so at home? when you first woke up, something had been different. some sort of warmth had enveloped you, in your heart. it had felt nice to have someone to lie close to. 

- in the meantime, hisoka was also seriously mulling over his emotions for you. so many questions invaded his mind, each popping up quicker than the last had been answered. 

- sometimes, he felt as if it would be better to keep everything about you tucked away. underneath his charming, intelligent mask was years of emotion and love and hatred and all things deemed merely human, but too human for him to ever “deserve”.

- as the jester stared at his dazed reflection in the cheap hotel mirror, he came to this conclusion; it wasn’t a matter of what he deserved, or his entitlement. he had to confront the obvious truth that had been bugging him for so long.

- he would tell you he loved you, but not for himself. he would do it for you.

- let’s just say this was the start of something new.

hey so i thought it’d also be good to mention that this is my first time writing a fic on here... to be honest, it’s more the format of a drabble, but i hope you enjoyed! the word count was 2084 words, so i’m super sorry for rambling on too much - i feel like i got a little too deep into hisoka’s character at the end there. illumi’s and chrollo’s version will be coming when i have the time!

either way, likes or reblogs or whatever are super appreciated, but don’t feel forced to or anything! either way, i feel like no one’s gonna see this with my reach LMAOO but anyways thank you for reading, if you made it here! feedback and tips for writing on here are always helpful :) 

[uniqorrn]

KiriBaku X Reader

A/N: I’m a huge simp for KiriBaku x reader fanfic. I hope ya’ll like this since I just spent a week editing and writing this pfffttt. 

Pairing: KiriBaku x reader 

Warnings: kidnapping, some inappropriate behavior/words, some blood, angst but some love and fluff to balance it out at the end.

Prompt: You, kirishima, and Bakugo, along with your other classmates end up having to fight villains on the street in a sudden attack. However, you get caught in one of the villains arms and taken away in front of everyone. Kirishima and Bakugo watched as you dippeared and they would do anything to get you back.

Key:

e/c = eye color

Y/n = your name

Y/h/c = your hair color

—————————

“Tch, dammit!”

“What happened?!”

“Where did this sudden attack come from?”

The confused screams and shouts of your friends filled your ears as your gaze settled upon one of the villains that attacked the street. The attack came out of no where and startled everyone, leaving shocked looks on their faces. It left the class of 1-A without their costumes too, a bad position to be in as your costumes aided you guys in battle.

Your e/c narrowed onto the man in front of you, studying him to see what his next move could possibly be. You were fighting on the out skirts of the city with a few pro hero’s however, you got word that most of your classmates and boyfriends(Kirishima and Bakugo) were all somewhere in the center fighting in the middle, per usual. That’s where you were now, in the center of the large city, eyes narrowed onto the man dressed in black with the smirk of the devil written across his face under his mask.

You hadn’t seen Bakugo or Kirishima yet, only having seen Deku and Todoroki fighting another villain on the other end of the clearing. That rumor about everyone being here didn’t seem to be true.

“Well. Well. Well. lol Kenya we have here. A pretty little thing ain’t she?” The villains masked voice spoke through the clearing, breaking your thoughts and bringing you back to reality. You couldn’t think about Kirishima and Bakugo right now, they would be perfectly fine in battle being so strong.

“What do you say we okay a little game.... hmm..?” The villains tone was dark and rather scary, causing an uncomfortable shiver to flow down your spine. Something about him seemed off. I mean everything about a villain was off but, this guy? He was kreepeir. He took out a deck of cards, shuffling them in his hands like a pro, he grabbed a card between to long fingers and pointed it at you as if asking you to take it.

“I don’t have time for games” you spat, eyes narrowing more onto the target in front of you. You could almost see the creepy smirk he had on under his black mask.

“Awe.. that’s a pity.” He whispered, but in an instant he was gone until cold hands grabbed your shoulders, pushing you down slightly to prevent movement.

“However, I guess I’ll have to take you somewhere else to play the game then.” He whispered in your ear, his breath hitting against it making you even more uncomfortable. The villain had caught you off guard, your body freezing as one of his hand made there way to your neck.

“I think you’ll be the perfect-“

“Oi! Get your hands off her you dick!” The all to familar angry shout had you slightly relieved as the light from Bakugos explosions clouded your vision. However, the hands on your shoulders didn’t lift up. Bakugos attack seemed to have done nothing to the villan. Kirishima ran up behind him, scolding him for not being careful with his attacks.

“Sorry boys but, me and little princess here have some place to be.” And with that a blue glow formed around your body, blackness slowly starting to fill your vision as you were sucked into a portal. The last thing you had seen was the terrified looks on Bakugo and Kirishimas faces as you screamed for help.

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

“Dammit dammit dammit!!” Bakugo screamed, his fists colliding with the ground you had been standing on just moments ago, hot ears leaking from his eyes and onto the stone floor. Kirishima stood behind him, his eyes watering over in anger. Angry that he couldn’t save you. Unlike Kirishima this wasn’t normal behavior from Bakugo. He usually kept his emotions bottled up inside, preferring not to share them unless he absolutely had to but, seeing you get taken away in front of him broke his heart.

“That bastard! He’ll pay for this” He continued to shout as members of class 1-A gathered around them, making a small circle around Bakugo and Kirishima. It was quiet for a while, no one dared to speak, shocked that yet another classmate was kidnapped. Everyone seemed to have known what happened judging by how Bakugo was reacting. Their classmate, their friend, someone they’ve known for a good while, was taken from them. 

Kirishima sucked in a harsh breath, flashbacks from when Bakugo was kidnapped filled his head which made his breathing even more uneven. Usually, it would be Kirishima to make the first move in comforting one of the two in their three way relationship. However, it was Bakugo who stood up and placed a warm comforting hand on his boyfriends shoulder. In that moment, as tears streamed down both their faces they silently promised each other they would get you back, even if it meant dying to save you.

Class 1-A spent that night in the hospital, doctors checking over their wounds and injuries to make sure they were alright. Many citizens thanked the group for helping them by giving them comforting words and phrases of encouragement. It didn’t phase them though, everyone-including the teachers- were still shocked and upset about what had happened. Bakugo and Kirishima were forced home that night as well, told that they would find you tomorrow but the two hot headed boys couldn’t wait that long but they had too, all they could was hope that you could hold on till morning-till they came to save you. 

~~~~~~~~~~ “Put me down you freak!” Your voice was dry and hoarse but you continued to shout anyway hoping that someone would hear you. He jerked you around roughly, shutting you up as he roughly shoved you to the ground in an empty, cold, dark room. A pained gasp left your lips as the wind was knocked out of you. You tried to stand up but fell right back down as your body was too weak to move. 

“Pathetic. What a lame excuse for a hero.....” The villain continued on with his rambling. You tuned him out though, not listening to what he was saying as tears finally fell from your e/c eyes. You swallowed thickly, trying to steady your breathing and keep quiet. A sudden kick to your side pressed you against the wall before the guy left the room, the large metal door slamming against the stone walls, the sound echoing around the empty room. 

That's when it hit you. You were stuck in here and couldn’t get out. The sobs escaped your body harshly, straining your throat with each sob that left your mouth. You brought your knees to your chest, hugging them tightly against your body as you cried. It was cold and dark, you had no idea where you were and you know for a fact that you were making Kirishima and Bakugo worry. 

Eventually the crying slowed down, and you drifted off to sleep. You hadn’t known how long you had been sleeping in that spot for but the loud sounds of explosions and things breaking woke you up. People were shouting and loud noises were going off everywhere.

“I said where is she!” You recognized that all to familar deep, raspy voice. It was Bakugo. You didn’t have to wait long for the door to burst open, the sudden light blinding you for a moment. You couldn’t fully see yet but the minute Bakugos arms wrapped around your frame you knew it was him.

You embraced each other for a few minutes, crying into each other’s shoulders as another pair of arms wrapped around the two of you as kirishima joined the group hug. After a few more minutes the boys pulled away, kirishima picked you up bridal style while Bakugo secured a safe path for your exit.

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

“Her wounds aren’t severe, just a few cuts and bruises. She did hit her head though, so expect a headache for a few days. With some rest and this-“ recovery girl stopped talking, pausing to reach in her bag to grab a small bottle of pain killers. “This will help the pain. Now now, I’ve got to run” she handed Kirishima the bottle of pills before packing up her bag and off to the next person.

Your two boys stood in front of you with tired, angry, yet relieved looks on their faces. More tired than anything. Kirishima was the first to speak, setting the pill bottle on the make shift hospital bed you were sitting on.

“Are you feeling any better?” He asked, placing one of his arms next to you while the other supported him inbetween your legs. He gently rested his head on your shoulder, leaning over slightly as he gave your neck soft kisses. You sighed in content, mumbling a soft “mhm” in response.

“You had us worried there dumbass” Bakugo chimed in, taking the other place next to you and resting his head on top of yours. His big warm hand embraced your small one, rubbing his thumb over your bruised knuckles as he leaned his head against yours. You sighed in content, happy to be back with your boys. You melted into them, loving the warmth that came with being sandwiched between the two muscular hero’s.

You gave Bakugo a slow peck on the cheek as Kirishima nuzzled into you more, his hot breath hitting against your collar bone.

“Come on you two. Let’s get home” you smiled sleepily, holding your arms up for one of them to carry you. They both let out a chuckle at your whiny, sleepy, baby state. They were beyond tired but greateful that you were okay.

[arvandus]

Hello! Happy 750!!! So I have this OC with a singing quirk. She’s basically like Giselle from enchanted where she can control the people and animals and occasionally plants and wind with just her voice. However she processes everything around her as music so it’s constantly playing in her head and gives her severe insomnia. She’s also a member of the LOV so I was wondering what her interactions with each of the members would be like but mostly Dabi. Would they find her annoying or fun? Up to you

Thank you! It took me a little bit to dwell on this one, because the idea is so interesting! But I finally got hit by the Inspiration Imagination, and here we are! I hope you like it; I've adjusted it to x Reader per your request, and I hope you don't mind I took just a little bit of creative license for the Reader's perspective and how to describe her quirk.  I also kept it very Dabi-focused in the interest of time.

Dabi x F!Reader w/ a singing quirk (SFW)

💙 It would be a rocky start at first. Dabi would have difficulty trusting you, simply because your quirk is so powerful. Anything that could potentially take away his free will would make him mistrustful and want to avoid said threat like the plague - or remove it entirely.

💙 But Shigaraki says you’re off limits, so he settles to keep you at arms length while at the same time keeping a close watch on you. One wrong slip, and he’ll handle you himself (or so he tells himself).

💙 He also mistrusts you because… well… as a fellow insomniac, he knows that you’re up at all hours of the night. He’s not sure why, of course… he never knocks on your door to ask. But he hears you shuffling around in your space, pacing in your room. What could possibly keep you up so late every single night? What’s got you looking so exhausted every day as if you never sleep? He’s convinced that you’re a spy, somehow sending messages to their enemies when everyone is asleep. Except he never hears you leave your room. Never hears you talking to anyone. So there must be something he’s missing.

💙 You’re an enigma to him, and it drives him crazy. Dabi doesn’t like unknowns.

💙 On your end, Dabi drives you nuts. He’s an asshole, every word that falls from his mouth laced in backhanded compliments and passive-aggressive accusations. You’d come close to using your quirk on him on many occasions, just to make him shut up or leave the room. Fortunately for Dabi, you have a personal code of honor that you abide by, and controlling people through your singing is only reserved for your enemies.

💙 He’s not your enemy… not yet at least.

💙 You know why he doesn’t trust you, and you don’t blame him… and he's certainly not the first person to be suspicious of you. But does he really gotta be such a dick about it? You try to be upfront with him, to explain that you live by a code and he’s safe from your quirk, but it makes little difference. Dabi doesn’t trust easily, and promises mean very little to him.

💙 His trust is finally gained when you use your quirk to save him and the other league members from certain death. There’s nothing quite like the sensation of hearing the beautiful notes of your voice while in freefall and then feeling himself being caught on a strong wind current, only to be set safely on the ground seventy meters below.

💙 After that happens, he begins to take an even greater interest in you, but this time with more curiosity and less mistrust.

💙 He starts poking and prodding, some questions being asked directly, while others are only implied. After all, he loves his little mind games, and even more so, he loves getting under your skin, especially since you refuse to use your quirk on him. It’s basically given him a ‘get out of jail free’ card for being a brat.

💙 He really, really wants you to prank the others using your quirk. And your little miss “I’m a good girl with a special code of ethics” makes the game that much sweeter. After all, you’re just as much a villain as the rest of them. If Toga can go around swinging her knives from her fingertips, then why couldn’t you sing a little song now and then?

💙 But Dabi quickly learns that you’re just as stubborn as he is, if not more so.

💙 Even so, it’s frustrating for you because if it were anyone else you wouldn’t have put up with this level of bullshit. The persuasion, the flirting, the school-yard level dares… the man has no shame and tries every tactic in the book to try to get what he wants from you. What makes it even worse is that a secret part of you enjoys his mischief. His ideas are tempting sometimes. Especially when the other league members annoy you.

💙 On top of all that, he is strangely alluring, even with his scars. And more importantly, the ‘song’ his body gives off is, well, a pleasant one to say the least.

💙 Every person has a ‘musical aura’ more or less, a small symphony of heartbeats, breaths, and something more… ephemeral. It comes through in the way they move through the environment, in the way the air particles are displaced around them and vibrate with their energy.

💙 And for some reason Dabi’s song is practically intoxicating, just like his sharp blue eyes that always seem to pin you down, heavy lids held up by a cocky smirk.

💙 The two of you reach an impasse in your battle of wills, an unspoken stand-off that never wanes. And it’s upon this competitive dance that the two of you begin to build some strange sense of camaraderie.

💙 He’ll eventually give up on his desire for pranking his comrades when he sees you use your quirk on heroes. But not just any hero, of course…

💙 Imagine Dabi’s glee when you use your song quirk to make Endeavor literally dance as the large man’s face flushes red with rage. It was intended to keep him busy while the League made their escape. But it makes it all over the news of course, and becomes viral online for months. The laughter that the two of you share when you get back to the hideout lasts for hours as you watch the news replay the scene over and over it. It really never gets old.

💙 Oh man, does he like you even more now. You’re his new favorite person. And he finally stops harassing you about using your quirk on the League members, instead finding much greater enjoyment in targeting different heroes together.

💙 There will come a time that he’ll catch you on one of your many insomnia-induced nights. It’s a hard one, sleep being kept at bay by the musical cacophony surrounding you, despite your obvious exhaustion. Your strength finally shatters, and you break down into tears in your room in frustration.

💙 Guess who ends up knocking on your door?

💙 Of course Dabi heard you. For months he’s been listening to the pacing of your feet or your frustrated sighs through the thin, old walls. It’s almost become a lullaby to him by this point, a way for him to know that you’re safe and sound… more or less.

💙 “What’s wrong, doll?” he’ll ask, as he stares down at your tear-streaked face. “I can hear ya through the walls, so don’t gimme any of your bullshit excuses.” Anyone else would hear the mockery in his voice, but for you with your quirk, you can hear the song of caring weaved through them, a hidden secret that you’re sure even he doesn’t realize is there.

💙 He won’t wait for an answer as he enters your personal space and makes himself comfortable.

💙 His sudden presence and that comforting familiar song it brings with it soothes more than you’d like to admit.

💙 But you do admit it. You admit to everything. The fatigue you feel, the way your quirk makes you suffer, and how for some reason, the song of him puts you at ease, drowning out the other noise. It’s like your inner radio is tuned just for him. Normally you wouldn’t admit to any of this of course, but you’re well past the point of exhaustion now, and your brain isn’t running as smoothly as it normally would. So what did it matter if you told him everything? You really didn’t have the strength to care anymore.

💙 “Your quirk is fuckin’ weird.” he admits. Then a grin will spread across his face. “You like my ‘song,’ huh? C’mere.”

💙 He’ll have you lay down with him on your bed and hold you close to him, your head on his chest as he rests his chin in your hair. “Does it help?” he’ll ask.

💙 Shockingly, it does. His music surrounds you, and you close your eyes as you let it cover you like a warm blanket. Everything else seems to fall to the wayside, your tired brain only able to focus on one melody - his. Before you can even nod in response, you’re fast asleep.

💙 It’ll become a habit for you two now… On particularly hard nights, he’ll keep you company and hold you. And maybe… maybe he’ll start letting you keep him company when he has hard nights too.

[bookandcranny]

Shortwave Radio

Why he decided to leave behind a perfectly good astral cluster and go sight-seeing on a spinning ball of dirt in this great cosmic nothing of a solar system is a mystery to the entire family, but it’s been almost ten years now and so they’ve all had no choice but to conclude that he’s not coming back any time soon. 

The right thing to do is to support him in it, so says tender-hearted big brother Hercules, and if that means jumping through a few hoops to attend some strange human ceremony in this hot and lifeless wasteland, then that’s simply what they’ll do.

summary: Five siblings from the stars come to earth by invitation of their estranged little brother, who’s only request to them is that they take a road trip across the American southwest and try to learn to see this planet the way he sees it.

content warnings: dysfunctional families, carsickness, strong language, fear of abandonment, and accidental misgendering of a nonbinary character

length: about 7k words

also, have a playlist!

🛸🛸🛸

On a particularly sticky day in late July, a black minivan rolls up outside Gruber’s Convenience somewhere in the vague liminal world of the i-110 out of El Paso. Shimmering like a mirage the vehicle comes to a stop and five figures shuffle into the station. Working the counter is a greasy-faced teenager who calls himself Benj, though according to his nametag he’s Benjamin until the end of his shift.

If he weren’t intentionally ignoring the group that just walked in, resenting the loss of quiet and the cool air that just escaped with the chime of the door, Benj would notice a few things about them. For one thing, while they all look quite different, all five of them are wearing the exact same clothes: pale blue t-shirt, gray jeans, plain white sneakers, not a toe scuffed or sullied by the dust they kicked up coming in. They’re perfectly inconspicuous outfits, but too new, too deliberate in their banality. 

The people in the clothes have much the same effect. They’re collections of ordinary, aesthetically pleasing parts assembled as if at random, almost uncanny at the wrong angle. Not supermodel pretty, but perhaps stock photo passable. One of them keeps touching things. Just, touching them. He trails his fingers over snack cakes and little pouches of corn nuts with an unreadable expression. Three of them are clustered together in front of the drinks fridge speaking in hushed tones. 

The last one of the bunch is hovering in the corner making eyes at the shop’s resident mascot, Garfield, an uncreatively named tabby cat who’s taken to sleeping on a box underneath the AC unit. The cashier does notice her (he thinks she’s a her) if only because she’s kind of cute, in a straight-laced camp counselor kinda way. He’s already building up an idea of her in his head, every atom of it more false than he realizes.

The Christine or Sydney or whoever reaches down and gives the cat a poke, which turns into an experimental stroke. 

“Mrph?” says Garfield, like cats do.

“Mrph?” parrots the... Liz maybe? No, not quite, he thinks. Garfield blinks at her, yawns. She withdraws, looking half offended by his indifference.

“Don’t take it personal,” Benj says. “He’s not very social.”

She looks at him for the first time and he reevaluates his earlier assessment. Eyes too pale, too far apart-- not ugly per se but definitely not worth the possible write-up he’d get for flirting with a customer.

“He’s the owner’s cat,” he babbles, scratching his chin and looking anywhere but at her. “Or so they say. Honestly I think he just showed up here one day and no one could get him to leave.”

Before she can reply, one of her matching buddies comes up to the register and dumps an assortment of snacks onto the counter. It’s a baffling, eclectic pile, but like any good retail worker Benj has long since learned not to examine anything too closely.

“Road trip, huh? Where are you guys headed?”

The radio behind the counter has gone all staticky. He fiddles with the antenna.

“Visiting family,” says snacks guy. His voice is soft and monotonous, a stark contrast as the guy’s built like a US SEAL. 

Benj looks from face to face. “All of you?” He’s having a hard time believing any two of them are related.

He nods, once. A stiff, decisive shake of the head. The crackling of the radio is getting worse. Benj turns it off.

“Will that be everything, sir?”

Another nod. 

“Herc, wait!” One of the man’s supposed relatives comes up behind him and shakes him by the shoulders. “Hercules, look at this.”

He slams a book down on the counter, one of the cheap paperbacks Gruber’s pedals between the condoms and the first-aid kit stuffings. The cover reads, “The Chest from The West” and features a heavily airbrushed model in a cowboy hat and unbuttoned flannel shirt.

“What am I looking at?” Herc asks.

“Get this too. I want to read it.”

“Why?”

He opens his mouth but whatever he’s about to say, Benj doesn’t really want to be present for it. He quickly scans the book and throws it cover-side-down into the bag. Let them work this one out on their own, hopefully somewhere else.

“Your total’s $29.75” He spins around to shake the radio, which is somehow now back on and blaring louder. When he turns back, the register is telling him everything’s been bought and paid for. Guy must be lightning quick with a credit card, he thinks.

“Huh. Guess you’re all set, man-- sir.” He hands them their bags. “Have fun at your family thing.”

He flashes the big guy a thumbs up. He looks strangely staggered by the gesture and replies haltingly, “Thank you. You also, have fun.”

“Come on, sibs,” the more energetic one chirps. “Cass? Cass, come on.” He drags his sister away from the cat, who’s just starting to warm up to her. “That’s you, remember? Let’s go.”

They don’t get any gas from the pumps outside. Benj is pretty sure he saw the testy looking one with the ponytail shoplift a bottle of off-brand cola, but he isn’t paid nearly enough to care. At least after they’re gone the radio starts working normally again.

Hercules drives, though it’s not so much driving as sitting in the driver’s seat and telling the van to go. Earth machines are simplistic and easy to manipulate. Slow though. Cass is riding “shotgun”, as is apparently customary for the navigator. Andromeda, Zeta, and Camelopardalis share the backseat, where the formermost is rehashing the same tired debate with the latter.

“We need to work out a better earth name for you,” he insists. “Myself, I’ve been doing some research and I’m thinking about going by ‘Andy’ from now on.”

“I’m not calling you that,” says Zeta.

Camelopardalis asks, “What’s wrong with the name I have?”

“It is a bit long,” Cassiopeia agrees. “A shorter one would help you fit in better.”

“Speaking of fitting in, something else has been bothering me. What’s your gender supposed to be?”

“My what?”

“You know, your gender. We all picked one.”

“It’s almost like you didn’t read the brief,” Zeta says, instigator that she is.

“It’s almost like none of you read the brief, that I took the time to write specifically to help you all acclimate to earth culture.”

“Zeta, don’t upset Cass,” Herc scolds.

“I’m not upset.” She turns in her seat to stare pointedly out the window. There isn’t much to look at, just miles upon miles of rolling desert interrupted by the occasional billboard or truck stop, all crawling by at a snail’s pace compared to the sort of travel they’re used to. Not that she’d recognize the analogy. She misses the cat.

Camelopardalis fiddles with their seatbelt. “Which one are you again?”

“I’m a ‘man’,” Andromeda recites. “Earth men are known for their physical prowess and carnivorous diet, they live in cave environments, and often congregate in packs called ‘fraternities’.” He waves the gas-station novel in the air. “I’m going to research their habits and perfect my persona. By the time I’m done with this I’ll practically be a local.”

“I don’t know… Zeta, what made you decide to be the other one?”

“Flipped a coin.”

“Women,” Cass informs them. “Can be most commonly identified by their long hair, fastidious hygiene habits, the use of traditional face paints to accentuate the eyes and lips, and by fleshy protrusions of the upper torso. Any of these traits can indicate an earth woman, though none are necessarily required.”

They throw up their hands. “How is that helpful at all then! Zeta?”

“What do you want me to do about it? I didn’t invent them. Hercules, are you sure these ‘snacks’ are safe to eat? They have a strange texture.”

“If you don’t like it, don’t eat it.” He punctuates the point by reaching back and grabbing a cream-filled cupcake off the pile. He tears the plastic with his teeth and eats half of it in a single bite. He barely tastes the thing, but he’s hoping if his siblings follow his lead their mouths will be too full to whine at him.

“Yeah, Zeta, don’t be a bitch.” Andromeda opens a pack of mini donuts, albeit more gingerly, and pops one into his mouth.

Cass whips her head around. “Where did you learn that word?”

He holds open the paperback and points to a page.

Austin hesitated. “I’ve never ridden a horse before. What if I fall?”

Derek chuckled manfully. “Don’t be a bitch, city boy,” he teased. Then he placed his large, calloused hand upon the small of Austin’s back. He leaned in and whispered, “Don’t worry, I won’t ever let you fall.”

The navigator leans over the center console and tries to snatch the book away but he dodges swiftly, clutching it to his chest.

“That’s foul language, Andromeda Alpheratz.”

“Earthers use this kind of speech with each other all the time. It’s a sign of familiarity and affection. You guys need to be less formal if you want to blend in.”

“If it’s meant to be an insult,” Camelopardalis wonders. “Why would they use it to convey affection.”

“Because they’re brutish, unevolved lifeforms,” Zeta sneers. “‘Blend in, blend in’. The rest of you can worry about blending in with the apes. I’m only doing this for Perseus.”

“We’re all doing this for Percy,” Hercules says in a chastising voice that makes even Zeta shrink down in her seat. “So can we please agree to be somewhat civil and not make this trip more painful than it needs to be?”

There’s a murmur of general agreement and peace is restored, however temporarily. Camelopardalis clears their throat.

“I still don’t really understand why we couldn’t land directly at Perseus Nine’s coordinates.”

Cass huffs, blowing a dark curl out of her face. “For the last time, Percy specifically requested we partake in the human ritual of the ‘road-trip’ for this last portion of our journey. It’s the same route he traveled the first time he came to earth, and apparently holds some sort of sentimental significance. It’s important to him we experience the same pilgrimage. For some reason.” 

She adds the last part under her breath, knowing full well the others will still hear her. They can hear one another when separated by countless miles of empty space, their voices resonating from star to star, clear as a bell. Compared to that, the close proximity of a rented minivan is stifling. There’s an uncomfortable intimacy to it, these crudely assembled physical forms pressed together, bloated and heavy with all the trappings of humanity. Sweat and road dust and gravity cling to Cass like an over-warm coat and she longs for the cool estrangement that comes so easily in the void of space. It’s tough to be a star-dweller away from her star.

“The reasons don’t matter,” Herc declares, and his word is as good as law here. He is the eldest of them, though the concept of seniority is abstracted somewhat by the literal millennia they’ve all lived through.

Percy is the baby, as well as the black sheep of the family, so to speak. (His actual moniker among their kinfolk roughly translates to “the dissonant note”, a scathing insult for those who knew what it meant.) Why he decided to leave behind a perfectly good astral cluster and go sight-seeing on a spinning ball of dirt in this great cosmic nothing of a solar system is a mystery to the entire family, but it’s been almost ten years now and so they’ve all had no choice but to conclude that he’s not coming back any time soon. 

The right thing to do is to support him in it, so says tender-hearted big brother Hercules, and if that means jumping through a few hoops to attend some strange human ceremony in this hot and lifeless wasteland, then that’s simply what they’ll do.

“At least we can check one more stop off the list,” Zeta quips. “What’s next?”

Cass checks her itinerary. “We are to visit one national historic landmark, one ‘tourist trap’-- whatever that means-- followed by a stop at ‘Diane’s Diner’, home of the world’s best pie. After that, we can head straight to the meet-up location.” She glances at the clock on the dashboard. “We’re a little behind schedule but we should make it right on time as long as there are no unexpected delays.”

An hour and a half of driving later, Andromeda throws up corn chips and mini donuts all over the back of Herc’s seat.

They pull over on the side of the road. The desert sand is just beginning to give way to sparse yellow grass, brittle from the sun. Herc steadies Andromeda, looking viscerally displeased as he finishes emptying out his recently manifested stomach.

Camelopardalis frets through the whole episode. “We’ve all been eating the same food, except for Zeta. If it’s poisonous, one of us will be next.”

“It’s not poison, it’s carsickness,” Cass sighs. “Honestly, I’m starting to think none of you even looked at the brief.”

“Zeta, look in the back for something to clean up with.”

“Why me?”

“We’re going to lose so much time…”

“Would you rather hold him?”

Andromeda retches.

“Do you think Percy would care if we skipped a couple stops?”

“Cassiopeia Sigma,” Hercules begins sternly.

“Alright, alright. I’ll figure something out.”

Fortunately they’ve happened to stop within walking distance of something called The Trinity Site, according to the map. Camelopardalis and Cass go ahead to check another stop off the list while Zeta and Herc clean up the van and make sure Andromeda isn’t actually dying. (How embarrassing, to be a quasi-immortal astral being only to perish at the hands of a tainted twinkie.)

They wander from the roadside, following the map and occasional signposts, and shortly find themselves standing in front of an ominous looking stone obelisk with a bronze placard affixed to one side.

Trinity Site: Where the world’s first nuclear device was exploded on July 16th, 1945

There’s more but Cass stops reading. Camelopardalis asks her to explain what the plaque means by nuclear device-- they’re familiar with nuclear power as a concept, fission and fusion, ideas not far departed from the system of energy exchange that sustains their natural bodies in the heart of their stars-- but goes pale when she goes into the relevant applications of said devices.

“Wonderful,” she grumbles to herself as she snaps a few photos of the monument with a disposable camera. “I’m sure Percy will be thrilled.”

“Excuse me.”

The pair turn to see a man in a colorful button-up and khakis and a woman with a day-old sunburn peeling off beneath the straps of her tank top. 

“Boy are we happy t’see the two of yous. Couldja take our picture real quick?” 

The woman holds out a camera, a significantly more professional piece of equipment than the one Cass is holding.

“Oh, sure,” Cass replies. She’s nervous as she takes it from her hands. She’s never encountered this sub-species of human in her research before, and finds it difficult to parse the woman’s peculiar dialect. Both of them are smiling, but they’re also showing a lot more teeth (and a fair bit of gum) than she thinks is normal. A subtle threat?

Nevertheless, she fumbles with the camera for a moment before managing to take a decent snapshot. The man wraps an arm around his wife’s waist and she slots herself in against his side.

“Ope, wait, let’s do a silly one to send to Marsha and the kids. Were my eyes closed? No? Perfect, you’re a doll. We’ll leave you kids alone now.”

“Sure,” she says again, feeling out of pace.

“My nephew wears his hair like that,” the man says without segway. He’s talking to Camelopardalis, they realize. “It’s very… hip.”

They touch their hair. They hadn’t given it much thought before, might not ever have if he hadn’t pointed it out. It’s nice, they think.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

His expression flinches into a puzzled frown. Cass smacks their arm.

“Sir! Thank you, sir.”

After they’ve walked away Cass gives him another jab for good measure.

“His hair was longer than the other one’s,” they complain. “And the chest was sort of fleshy. How was I supposed to know?”

“We’re lucky you didn’t cause an incident. Earthers carry weapons in this part of the world.”

They rub their arm. “I don’t know, they seemed nice.”

Still they give a fleeting glance at the plaque behind them and argue no more.

They return to the van, now blessedly puke-free. Andromeda is looking better too. They all pile in and almost immediately Camelopardalis misses the freedom of being able to move without touching somebody. It may be their imagination, but the car seems to be moving slower than ever.

“How was it?” Zeta asks, despite her obvious disinterest.

“Uninspiring,” is Cass’ reply.

The other nods and doesn’t force her to elaborate. “I wish I knew what Perseus intended for us with this… chore list.”

“It’s not important, we just do it.” 

Herc is always a steady presence, but even he is starting to sound annoyed with repeating himself. Zeta, of course, can’t leave well enough alone.

“If we just knew what he wanted us to do or say we could do it and go back to how we were before.”

Cass snaps. “Maybe you should stop complaining and make an effort for once.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

The car erupts into a heated four-way argument. Only Hercules resolutely abstains from comment, though his hands tighten into fists on the steering wheel. The fight doesn’t end in resolution so much as exhaustion. Everyone’s too miserable to keep hurling accusations and insults for the next hundred miles, and at length they lapse back into tense silence.

Zeta rests her head against the window, taking the arythmic rattle into herself, breathing it out in silent, frenetic melodies. She dislikes fighting with her siblings, no matter what they might claim to the contrary. It doesn’t happen often, or didn’t, but things have been different since Percy left home. The littlest star-child had a natural soothing presence to him, one that she’d long taken for granted. Earth is so noisy, she thinks. She strains to listen but she can’t hear a trace of him anywhere.

She tries to imagine what he’d say, if he were here.

“What are we even doing?” 

Probably not that, but she already has everyone’s attention now so she figures she might as well keep going.

“I mean, we’re still behind schedule, we can’t stop bickering, Andromeda can’t even eat right apparently, and I’m pretty sure half of us didn’t even look at Cassiopeia’s brief.”

“Are you getting to a point?” Cass asks irritably.

“I’m just saying we’re all… bitches.”

“Zeta!”

“Get comfortable with it! We’re all bad at this. Me, you, all of us. So can we just stop blaming each other and have a truce in the interest of getting this over with?”

Cass opens her mouth, then lets it fall shut, sinking back into her seat. For a moment it seems they’re heading for another long awkward silence, when Andromeda sits up and points out the window with a sudden urgency.

“Look!”

Herc slows down and they see a billboard lit up in eerie green neon light, directing them to the next off-ramp.

Must see attraction! Visit the one of a kind Ancient Aliens Exhibit! 

The star-folk look at one another.

“Is this what they call a tourist trap?”

“It seems likely.”

Andromeda is glowing-- in a very literal sense-- with excitement. “It’s an exhibit about us.”

“‘Ancient’? Speak for yourself, I’m still only in my six-thousands.”

Needless to say, they do stop at the roadside museum. Cass takes pictures aplenty and, to her surprise, actually enjoys it. Andromeda is disappointed to find there isn’t actually a display dedicated to their kind. Instead there are a lot of grainy photos of some squat, bug-eyed species called “greys” and diagrams of the Egyptian pyramids for some reason. He gets over it by the time they get to the gift shop.

By unanimous decision, they do not buy anymore snacks, though Zeta’s eye does linger on a cooler in the corner advertising “the ice cream of the future!”. Herc does however buy a number of souvenirs. (Rather, he convinces the automated register to record a purchase that didn’t technically take place, and bumps up the number in the bank account of one very nice tour guide while he’s at it.) 

They leave with a mood ring, a handful of polished stones in a small velvet bag, a “gravity defying” purple yo-yo shaped like a UFO, and Camelopardalis sheepishly lays claim to a friendly looking martian figurine with bendable limbs. Overall, spirits are much higher by the time they make it back to the van.

“Hercules,” his meek younger sibling ventures. “Could I try driving? I’ve been curious about it.”

Feeling generous and more than a little tired of staring out at the road for hours at a time, he agrees. He shows Camelopardalis the basics and makes sure they know how not to veer off the road or into other drivers and then he climbs into the middle backseat and stretches out his arms so the siblings on either side of him can tuck in against him and rest. Eventually even the diligent navigator Cassiopeia begins to doze. It’s been a long day and none of them are quite accustomed to the burden of having earthbound bodies.

When Andromeda wakes up the first thing he registers is that it’s getting dark, the day reduced to a slim red band sinking over the horizon. The second thing is the yelling.

“What do you mean you don’t know!”

“I thought I could read the map myself--”

“What about you, navigator? What were you doing?”

“--didn’t mean to--”

“As if you’re one to talk! I can’t believe--”

“--and you were the one who--”

“Shut up!”

Hercules’ normally subdued baritone booms through the van. The windshield wipers begin swinging as if in indignation, while the passengers wince and cover their ears. Andromeda can’t remember a time when his brother’s frequency had felt so violent. The shivering resonance it leaves behind makes his teeth ache.

There’s a pregnant pause, then Cass slams open the door and begins to pace.

“Shit!” she yells at the empty air. They’re parked in a field somewhere, no sign of life save for the buzzing of insects and the rumble of a train somewhere off in the distance. Cass kicks at the ground and screams again. “Shit fuck bitch hell! We are so fucking lost! And so fucking late!”

Andromeda winces again and gets out to try and calm her. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“It is not! We’re probably missing the ceremony right now. Percy will never forgive me for this.”

“It wasn’t your fault…”

“I’m supposed to be the navigator!”

“Well, yes, but…” The words come out strangled. He touches his chest and realizes he’s breathing rapidly. His eyes are beginning to water as well. “I should’ve… I didn’t…”

Zeta hurries over to him. “What’s wrong? Are you going to be sick again?”

Without warning he doubles over and begins bawling. 

“Hercules, do something! Something’s wrong with him!”

“Don’t… don’t… don’t…” he gasps and stammers.

Herc clutches his brother. “Don’t what? Talk to me.”

“Don’t fight,” he finally chokes out. “I don’t want to lose anybody else.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Percy,” he sniffles miserably. “He doesn’t care about us anymore. He has earth now, and all his new earth friends, and we can’t even do this one thing for him. It’s my fault. I knew he hated when I called him a dissonant note and made fun of his earth music but I did it anyway. Now he probably hates me and all of us and this whole thing has been for nothing.”

The eldest braces his arms on Andromeda’s slumped shoulders. “Percy doesn’t hate us. He invited us here because he wanted to see us.”

“Herc’s right, Andromeda. Percy doesn’t have it in him to hate anyone.”

“It’s not easy, but he chose this. He chose earth. We have to respect that.”

Zeta grumbles, “And just what is so special about this stupid planet anyway?”

“It has cats,” Cassiopeia says quietly. Her sister glares but she stays firm. “Well it does. And… people.”

“Strange, silly earth people,” Camelopardalis adds, nervously fussing with their hair. “Confusing and contradictory and fascinating.”

“People who hurt each other for no good reason.”

“People who are kind for no good reason too.”

Andromeda wipes phosphorous tears from his eyes and takes out the rumpled gas-station paperback. “In this book Austin leaves his job as a big city lawyer to follow the cowboy he’s in love with.”

“You think Perseus traveled to earth for cowboy love?”

“It’s a possibility!”

Cass scoffs. “I honestly don’t think he was thinking that far ahead. You know Percy. He probably crash-landed without any plan whatsoever. Or, he probably thought he knew what he was doing, and then when he actually got there he was terrified. And then he probably didn’t want to say anything because he was afraid his siblings would think less of him once they realized he was actually just as clueless about earth stuff as they were. That would probably be really, really stressful for him.”

“Are we still talking about Percy?”

She makes a wordless noise of frustration and kicks up another patch of grass.

Andromeda puts an arm around her. “If… Percy was worried about that, I’d tell her-- him! I’d tell him that he shouldn’t be, because there’s nothing he could do that would make us stop believing in him.”

She exhales. “Thanks.”

“I was talking about you, Cass,” he whispers. “It’s you I believe in.”

“Thank you, I got that.”

“I just… miss him, I guess.”

Herc hums in agreement. “Barely a millennium old and he’s already grown up and gone completely terrestrial. This past century has been the longest of my existence.”

“Hercules, it’s only been ten years.”

That news causes him to make such a face that Zeta starts laughing. It’s the first time she’s so much as cracked a smile the entire trip.

“So… what do we do now?” Camelopardalis asks.

After a moment, Cass grabs the map off the dashboard and holds it open.

“A little more light please?”

They step up behind her and hold a glowing hand over the paper. Her brow creases in concentration.

“Alright, I think we’re somewhere around here,” She gestures. “And we need to be here. There’s no way we’re going to show up on time, but we can still show up. We owe him that much.”

They get in their seats, Herc back at the helm, and begin trying to reclaim the distance they lost with the unplanned detour. Cass breathes a sigh of relief when road signs start to reappear. A driver honks at them as they pick up speed and Herc steers closer and makes their radio start playing at top volume. Zeta opens the window and a cool night breeze tickles her skin. The stars are bright and beautiful above them, and looking up, suddenly home doesn’t feel so far away.

All at once they slow to a near stop.

“What’s going on? Why are we stopping?”

“Traffic,” Herc says like it’s a curse. “Looks like there was an accident.”

“Take this exit,” Cass commands. “We can cut through the next town and get ahead of it.”

So he does and soon they find themselves driving through the quiet streets of Kismet, Nevada. That is, quiet until Zeta catches sight of something out the window and yells, “Pull over!”

“What! What is it now!”

She points, and they see. The sign ahead reads, “Diane’s Diner: Home of the World’s Best Pie”. They pull in so fast they nearly end up colliding with a stout aproned woman who’s pushing a teetering hand cart across the lot.

“What do you maniacs think you’re doing?” she demands as they clambour out of the van.

“I’m very sorry, ma’am,” Cass says in a rush. “It is just very important to my siblings and I that we get to this establishment.”

The woman huffs. “You’re a mite late then, I’m afraid. We’re closing up early tonight. Got a big catering order I have to deliver.”

Herc asks, “Are you Diane, of the diner?”

She laughs. “Close. I’m Maddie Finkle of the diner. Diane’s my mother’s name. It’s a family business. But what brings you folks here looking for Diane at this time of night? I don’t think I’ve seen your faces around town before, and I always remember a customer.”

“Do you remember a customer named Percy? It would’ve been years ago, but this place was very important to him. He’s our brother.”

Maddie’s eyes light up. “Why didn’t you say so! Of course I know Percy. And if you rowdy lot are his siblings, then I’ve got a message for you.”

“A message?” Percy hadn’t said anything to them about a message. Maybe this was his way of ensuring they actually made it to the last stop on his list.

“Well, sort of. Come, come, help me load up all this grub and I’ll tell you everything.”

Herc and Zeta go to either side of her and help push the wobbly cart to a truck with the diner’s logo emblazoned on the side. As they load the boxes, Maddie speaks.

“I first met your Percy when I was just a waitress, mama still working the kitchen. One day this kid walks in, looking as lost as can be, comes straight up to the counter and tells me he’s just fallen from outer space and could use some assistance.” She barks a laugh. “I didn’t go for the whole alien thing but that second part was a lot more believable. He looked a mess. I asked if he needed something to eat but he just said he needed a safe place to rest for a moment. He’d been on his feet all day, walking and hitchhiking his way clear across the desert.

“Of course I wanted to know where he was going that was so important, but he said he didn’t know for sure yet. Said he was following a melody, a song he’d heard from very far away that had drawn him to this place. I told him I couldn’t help him there. The only music we had in the diner was this old stereo system mama had put in when she first opened the place and it was long broken. Mama was too sentimental to get rid of the old thing and the repairman couldn’t do anything for it so broken it stayed. 

“He asked me to show him so I did, figuring it couldn’t hurt anything. Then that kid walked up to the busted speaker and just like that it started playing again like it was new. I told him, ‘For that, I owe you more than a place to rest your legs. Stay in town for a while, let us put you up and get you back on your feet, or at least let me drive you to the train station so you can get where you’re going.’ But he refused, and before long he was gone again.

“Then, not a couple days later, spaceboy comes back traveling with this other kid, heading in the opposite direction. I ask him what happened and he says he was going one way but he changed his mind and turned around. He leans in like he’s sharing a great big secret, like we’ve been friends all our lives, and says, ‘I found it, Maddie. I found the song.’ Weirdest kid I’ve ever met! But they make a cute couple, him and that boy, and they’re some of my best customers to this day.”

They finish packing up the truck, Maddie leaning leisurely against the fender as she reminisces. Herc frowns, confused.

“Was that the message?”

“Yup.” She pops the P. “He just told me to tell you the story. Not sure why. I mean, it’s a good story, I think. But you already know all about it, right? You’re his family after all.”

“No, he never told us,” he admits softly.

“Huh. Weird. But then, he’s kind of a weird kid, yeah? I always wondered, is it all you aliens who talk in riddles like that, or just him?”

“I thought you said you didn’t believe his claims.”

“I didn’t the first time, but if your Percy’s one thing it’s… Perc-istent.” When no one laughs, she pushes onward. “Well, that’s all of it. We’d better get a move on, huh?”

“‘We’?”  

“Sure, aren’t you folks on your way to Percy’s place too? I figured you’d be staying over, and I gotta get everything set up for the wedding tomorrow.”

A palpable shock ripples through the star-folk. “Tomorrow?”

“‘Course, what did you think all this was for?” She pats the truck. “I wanted to get everything ready ahead of time so we’re good to go in the morning. It’s not easy being the caterer and providing my lovely self as a guest on the same day, but I couldn’t let those sweet boys down.”

Andromeda slumps over, leaning on Herc for support. “Percy told us the wedding was tonight.”

The chef raises an eyebrow. “Sounds like someone’s been having a little fun with you. Nah, they’re doing some sort of get-together tonight since neither one of the bachelors wanted a bachelor party, but the actual wedding ceremony’s definitely not until tomorrow.”

“I’m going to end him,” Cass mutters under her breath.

“Hurry up now,” she says. “I’m sure the groom-to-be’s expecting you.”

The five follow Maddie’s truck away from the main drags, away from the buildings, the scenery becoming gradually greener as the road turns from asphalt to gravel. At last they find themselves pulling up in front of the house that Percy has come to call home. It’s a raised ranch, flanked by evergreens and patchwork plots of small white and yellow flowers that Percy’s fiance must have planted, and a tower of plastic chairs and tables covered by a tarp. 

It’s a nice place, large and somewhat secluded, set apart from the noise of traffic or threat of nosy human neighbors. Percy’s sensitive to loud noise and, after all, still an alien living in secret amongst humanity. Yet as they get out and follow the caterer where she’s cutting around back through the garden, they’re struck by the sounds of laughter and music and lively chatter.

A group of earthers are gathered on the patio, smiling faces lit by a string of twinkling lights. A man with a guitar strums along with the music coming from inside.

“Are you sure we’re in the right place?” Andromeda whispers. 

“You think there’s a second Perseus Nine about to be married in this town?” Cass shoots back.

Zeta hisses, “Quiet, I can hear him.”

To his surprise, Herc can too. Above the noise, laced into everything he touches, there is a resonance, his baby brother’s unique personal frequency. To describe it as sound alone would perhaps be inaccurate; it’s a vibration, an echo. Percy is everywhere in this place: his whispers and his shouts, his twinkling laugh, but also the part of him that no human being can detect, the part of him that is still, and will always be, of the stars.

He must sense them too, because in that moment he appears standing in the doorway, bathed in its yellow light. His face breaks out in a glowing grin and he runs to greet them, bolting like a comet being pulled into his siblings’ orbit.

“You made it!” he exclaims.

Zeta snorts and allows him to throw his arms around her. “No thanks to you and your list of demands.”

“You brat,” Cass accuses. “You told us the ceremony was tonight.”

Percy tilts his head to look at her, his expression not half as guilty as it should be. For a moment she reels at the sight of him; the body he’s constructed for himself has aged since the last time they crossed paths. It’s subtle, the way his dimples have deepened into true laugh lines, and his hair has grown ever longer, though it also isn’t as tangled as she remembers. He is still himself, underneath, the light of his true being faintly visible beneath the skin. 

“I was worried if I told you the real date you wouldn’t make it in time. You’re not used to traveling the human way. It can be messy.”

She grimaces. “You’re not wrong.”

“You’re actually here way earlier than I thought you’d be.” His smile falters, only slightly. “This is… everyone?”

Herc swallows. “The others…” he begins, but quickly finds he doesn’t have the words that should follow.

“Well, it’s not like I had enough chairs for all two-hundred-ninety-seven of them anyway.” He reaches out and squeezes his brothers tightly. “Hercules, Andromeda, It’s so wonderful to see you. Camelopardalis, Cassiopeia, it means so much to me that you came. I know it probably wasn’t easy. Zeta…”

She scoffs. “The only hard part was putting up with these bitches.”

Hercules interjects, “We shouldn’t keep you from your party. Go on, I need to get some things from the van.”

“You didn’t bring presents, did you?”

“It’s customary for weddings, is it not?”

Percy grins. “You’re becoming a real expert on earth customs.”

He shrugs and looks at Cass. “I just read the brief.”

Percy invites his family in, along with Maddie, who is perfectly tickled by the siblings’ awkward affection. After helping her bring in the food, Percy beckons over the man with the guitar.

“Adam!”

The man looks up. He has a boyish, freckled face and a head of dark curls that spill over his brow. He sets down the instrument and comes to slot himself against Percy’s side, thoughtlessly, as if that was always where he was meant to be.

“I’d like to formally introduce you to my fiance, Adam. And Adam, this is my family.”

His smile broadens. “Hey, great to finally really meet you guys. Percy talks about you all the time. Did you have a long trip?”

They look at one another for a moment until finally Herc shrugs and says, “Only about twenty-five trillion miles, give or take.”

The happy couple linger for a moment longer, sharing stories and talking about honeymoon plans. Adam is especially thrilled when Andromeda and Zeta begin to co-narrate an embarrassing tale from Percy’s childhood in the Alpha Persei Cluster. Eventually though the pair wander off together, leaving the star-folk to their most harrowing challenge yet: mingling.

“Sorry, what did you say your name was?”

“Camelopardalis.”

The guest, one of the couple’s mutual friends, goes a bit bug-eyed. “Wow, okay, that’s really cool. Kind of a mouthful though. Got a nickname?”

“Nick… name?”

“Like, something that your friends call you for short. My friends call me Dee, but my highschool nickname was Dent.” They point to a scar on the side of their head, just above their left ear. Their fair hair is buzzed short, making it easy to see. “Long story. What if for now I called you ‘Cam’?”

They consider it. “I think I’d like that.”

“Cool, nice to meet you, Cam.”

“Nice to meet you, Dee.” They hesitate. “Would you say you’re a man or a woman?”

Dee frowns.

“Nevermind! I’m so sorry, I just don’t understand the earth gender binary at all. Everything about it just seems so arbitrary and senseless.”

Oddly enough, their new friend perks back up at this. 

“Honestly, same,” they laugh.

Andromeda joins shortly, having struck up a conversation with Dee’s partner who is deeply intrigued by his review of “The Chest from The West”. The three of them spend a while swapping book recommendations. Meanwhile, Zeta gets hit on by a slightly intoxicated young woman with an undercut and an eyebrow ring, although the star-dweller vastly misinterprets her none-too-subtle questioning about alien biology. Cass meets Adam and Percy’s pet dog, Chowder, and deems him as good a companion as the convenience store cat.

Herc catches Percy alone in the kitchen and the two have a long overdue talk. It’s clumsy but earnest, and when Herc mumbles something out about possible future family visits, Percy throws himself into his brother with such vigor that he momentarily forgets about gravity and starts to float off the ground.

“I’m sorry too, by the way, for the whole thing with the list,” he sighs. “It probably seems pretty stupid, I just kind of hoped I could get you to see this world the way I see it. Full of life and love and adventure.”

“And music,” he finishes, catching the way his gaze flits back to the patio. To Adam, singing softly and dancing with one of their friends.

He nods. “I thought maybe then you’d understand why this is so important to me.”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to see earth the way you do,” Hercules confesses. “But I don’t think it was stupid of you to try either, and I don’t think it was for nothing.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the mood ring. The friendly prismatic face of a cartoon alien glints up at him. Perseus takes the gift with an understanding chuckle and slips it onto his pinky finger.

“No, not for nothing.”

Tomorrow, there will be a wedding. Percy and Adam will stand in front of their friends and family and exchange their vows. Adam’s mother will complain about them not booking a proper venue for just short of an annoying amount of time, Maddie will bring out a ridiculously tall tier cake that will taste almost as good as one of her mother’s pies, and for once Percy will not be the worst one on the dance floor. 

Tomorrow, there will be a bright silver band around Percy’s fourth finger, neighbored by a smaller ring in the shape of an inside joke, and with all the weight of a promise.

[peaky-gray]

Save Yourself

Pt. 6/?

A/N: we've made it to part six, lovelies! I hope you enjoy. Let me know what you think and if you want more!

Listen while you read.

TW: Oswald Mosley. He deserves one

PART ONE.    PART TWO.    PART THREE.    PART FOUR.     PART FIVE.

Walking up the stairs to the offices, Tommy was preparing you, Michael, and Arthur for what was to come, Michael asking what the strategy was. It must have been the fifth sentence you’ve heard him speak all day. He didn’t say a word to you the entire trip over to London, only staring out of the train window, not daring to look at you.

Tommy speaks to Michael next to you as you climb the stairs, “ You and Prudence can smile,” Tommy looks at Arthur, “And you, don’t smile.”

The four of you walk into Tommy’s spacious office, Tommy taking his chair behind the desk, Arthur standing by the window, you and Michael sitting with a vacant chair between yourselves as per Tommy’s direction. You didn’t know why the seating arrangement had to be so specific.

Arthur asks the question of the hour, “So, who we meetin’?” 

Tommy answers, “The man we’re about to meet is the minister for the Duchy of Lancaster. He is also deputy to the Chancellor of the Exchequer and Cabinet adviser to the Prime Minister of Great Britain.” Now you knew why the seating arrangement was so important. 

Tommy continues to speak, “You three have met bad men before. The man we’re about to meet is the devil.” 

You glance at Michael while the phone rings, trying to gauge how he was feeling about the encounter that was about to happen. All you find is the cold exterior he always had during business meetings with strangers; a true businessman, Michael was only warm and friendly with clients he knew. He was always stern with new clients so he or the business was never taken advantage of. So far, his strategy has worked. You had seen it first hand. He and you worked together as a team during business meetings, able to work together seamlessly; this was a stark difference.

“Send him in.” Tommy sighed loudly across from you. You never saw Tommy nervous, he always appeared collected even if his mind was in shambles. Today, he looked nervous, and that sat a fire of panic in your stomach. 

Everyone in the room was in suspense, Michael turning to look at the door as it finally opens as a tall man sporting a mustache enters. You and Michael stand to greet him, warm smiles on your faces as you were previously told to do so. 

The man speaks as he sits down between you and Michael, “I never seem to get to meet you without your family.”  Family. You were still a part of the family, never seeming to be able to get out of its clutches. Once a Shelby, always a Shelby.

Tommy speaks sternly, “I understand you know a man called Jimmy McCavern.” At the mention of Jimmy, both you and Michael start to fiddle with your hands, uncomfortable with the meeting already.

The man, Oswald Mosley, doesn’t bother to answer the question right away, asking for a cigarette instead. Taking one and lighting it, he throws the lighter on the desk, the thud echoing through the room. 

“Who on earth is Jimmy McCavern?”

Tommy sharply inhales, “Over the last 12 months, you’ve been making approaches to various men across the country who you think might be able to help you in your cause. McCavern is one of these men. He runs the East Glasgow shipyards. He killed an associate of mine.” Associate, apparently to Tommy that’s all Bonnie was. 

He continues speaking, “I want to know what your strategy is.”

The man ashes his cigarette on the floor, bits of it floating onto your shoes; you roll your eyes, Michael notices. 

Motioning his head over to Arthur, the man speaks, “That one’s your brother, yes?”

Michael speaks to Mosley, “Yes. And I’m his business advisor, next to you is the assistant business advisor. We would like to talk business.” So, it turns out he can acknowledge you. 

“Michael. Michael Gray. You lost all your cousin’s money in America playing the fool. A night club in Detroit called the Gladiator is your regular. You lost the money...and found a wife there.”

You jerk your head towards Michael, needing him to see the expression on your face. Pain, disappointment, and shock are etched into your features as Michael stiffens, looking at the man. Michael catches your eye as Oswald begins to speak again, this time looking at you.

“Prudence Jones. You were once engaged to Michael, then he left you while he was in America. You then ran off with Bonnie Gold before his unfortunate end. Truly heartbreaking.”

You sit shocked, both at how he knows that and at how uninterested he seems with the entire conversation. He really was the devil. You can see Michael look at you sympathetically, confirming for you that he actually still did have a heart. But the expression left as soon as it came. 

“And poor old Arthur Shelby, standing there at the window, - is afraid his wife will never return.”

You can hear the wood chair creaking behind you as Arthur clutches onto it.

“My spies tell me she’s been seen with another man.”

Arthur continues gripping the wood, starting to splinter under the weight, Tommy calming him in Romani. 

Next to you, the man begins to speak again, “And...bingo. Twenty seconds in, and I have them speaking their lingo. Mr. Shelby, I do have plans. I will have need of men like you. Except, of course, there is no other man like you. You, in particular, I need. But please. Don’t imagine I would trouble myself with turf wars. You have many other enemies. Shuffle the pack and pick another card.” 

He stands up, reaching into his inside breast coat-pocket pulling out a letter and tossing onto Tommy’s desk. “That investigation of the dead journalist, I've made that go away. Read it and, uh, come back to me. Next time, bring only an open mind and a cigar to celebrate our union.” At that, Oswald Mosley throws the cigarette onto the floor, stomping it out with his shoe and walking out.

Normally you didn’t smoke, but after that encounter you did today. Reaching for the container of cigarettes in front of you, yours and Michael’s hands brush, him reaching for one too. You pull away first, Michael taking a cigarette out and handing you one before grabbing another for himself. You weren’t going to read too much into it because if you did, you would give yourself a headache and only break your own heart even more than it already was. 

Tommy opens and reads the letter, throwing his glasses onto his desk, sitting down, exasperated.

Michael, who was standing in front of you leaning on the desk, breaks the silence first, “What the fuck was that all about, Tom?”

You hear Tom whisper ‘fuck’ and Arthur shoving the chair over, breaking a small table and the china set sitting atop of it. 

Tommy yells at Arthur, immediately giving you a headache. You hated yelling, as did Michael. He never yelled in front of you, and the rare times he did yell, he asked you to leave the room before doing so. This time you didn’t have a chance to leave as Tommy continued to yell.

“Arthur! Do not let them get inside your head! That’s exactly how these people work.”

Arthur again asks the question everyone was thinking, “Who the fuck are these people? Hmm? Who the fuck are they?!” 

Tommy sighs, “I’ve just been invited...to become the deputy leader of a brand-new political party. These people say they are the future.”

Behind you, Arthur huffs loudly, anger rolling off him in waves, as you and Michael finish off your cigarettes while Tommy was clutching his eyes, trying to think of a way to fix this. All of you were fucked.

Tag list: @multi-fandom-iimagines​ @liviakomtrikru20

[mzkora]

SPN TROPE ROUND ROBIN

Round 3- Prompt: Remix/Inspired by @spn-trope-round-robin

Title: tenderized

Rating: G/PG

Author: kestra_troi on AO3 aka me

Inspiration: “Red Meat Well Done”, by catnipster

Tags: Episode Coda for S11e17 Red Meat, Hurt/Comfort, gencest, No Sex, Hurt!Sam, Caring!Dean, Emotions

Summary: After the events of Red Meat, Dean decides to take Sam to a motel for some proper rest.

As they crossed state lines Dean eased off the gas. The distance helped. Sam’s almost death was hundreds of miles and a whole state behind them in the rear view mirror. Along with all his earlier bravado and jokes. That had been much too close. He nearly lost his little brother. Again.

For just a second, Dean glanced over at Sam, watching that broad chest slowly rise and fall. He had lasted all of half an hour before falling asleep, which Dean had taken as proof of how close to that razor’s edge everything had been. A tiny slip here or there and...The End. Luck. It was all pure luck. He studied his little brother, giving him a once-over as he had done for the whole drive so far. Poor kid must have been exhausted. Out like a light with his head resting against the window, his chin propped up by his arm.

Eyes back on the road ahead, Dean turned down the soft rock station so it was more in the background since Sam didn’t seem to really need the help sleeping. He fidgeted in his seat, feeling a bit cramped after so many hours on the road without a single stop. First, he stretched out his legs as best he could within the confines of the car. Then, he rolled the tension out of his shoulders and neck, which popped. He groaned and flexed his fingers only then realizing how tightly he had been holding on to the steering wheel. He took a deep breath and forced himself to relax into the seat. He checked Sam out in his periphery, reassuring himself that his little brother was still there. Still breathing. Still just asleep.

Dean blinked, taking stock of their surroundings pretty much for the first time since they had gotten in the car. Not that there wasn’t much out there to speak of other than the road. Eventually though, after a few more miles, he did see a sign for the next town. Dean considered his options for a moment. Keep driving for at least another four or five hours to get to the Bunker or set up camp in town and start home later? Dean leaned forward to peer up at the sky which was still pretty much grey from horizon to horizon, but the east side was clearly getting darker. Then he sat back and looked at the clock. The sun would be setting soon. Maybe another hour of daylight left at the most.

They’d gone far enough for one lousy day. Sam deserved to rest in an actual bed. Coming back from the precipice all on his own and saving his life in the process? His little brother was a goddamn hero. A badass. And badasses deserved a nice, comfy mattress and some halfway decent pillows. They had earned a short break, right? So, when the exit came up, Dean pulled off the highway and rolled into town. He skipped the skeevy looking places on the outskirts of this run of the mill town for a motel that actually looked like it got cleaned once in a while in what seemed to be their downtown.

The Royal Inn was the one he settled on, with a quiet snort. As if royalty would ever be within a thousand miles of this place, but irony notwithstanding he cruised into the parking lot. He pulled up to the office and slowed to a smooth stop, not wanting to jostle Sam too much. He paused a second and checked Sam over one more time. Still breathing steady. Still asleep.

This one had been way too close. Way. Too. Close. The words kept playing on repeat in his head as they had for the entire day’s drive. Dean frowned, his eyes going soft and watery. With a sniff, Dean unbuckled his seat belt and opened his door, grabbing his wallet out of his back pocket while he got out of the car. He closed the door gently, more so than he normally would bother with and made sure he had the right ID and credit card to match before heading inside. At the office door he stole one more look at Sammy before ducking in to rent a room for a few days. They had earned a break. A mini-holiday. Just until Sam got back on his feet. Then they could go home and bunker down for a while. Maybe have a crappy action movie marathon with all the trimmings. Really live it up for a weekend before jumping back into the fray.

Room key cards in hands, Dean got back into the Impala and stared at Sam for a moment, briefly torn. Wake him now or wait until they were parked in front of the room? Did it matter? Not really. Dean closed his door without being too careful this time and took a hold of the wheel with his left hand while with the right he palmed his brother’s knee. Warm and solid just like it ought to be. “Gotta wake up, Sammy,” he said, giving the knee a squeeze. His hand slid up his brother’s thigh of its own accord and Dean let it sit there a second absorbing some of that wonderful body heat. When Sam didn’t stir, he gave him a couple quick taps to the leg to spur him on. “We’re here, Sleeping Beauty.”

Sam jerked awake and groaned, wincing at his own sudden movement. He blinked, rubbing his eyes as he carefully sat upright. “Dean?”

“Got us a room for a couple nights,” Dean explained, slowly driving off to find their spot. “Thought we could take it easy for a bit. Get you well.”

“I’m fine,” Sam mumbled, running his hand down his face.

“I know,” Dean replied, going along with that ridiculous assessment. He barely held in an eye-roll. After all these years he knew better than to try and argue outright with his little brother. That damn stubbornness saved their lives all the time, but it also annoyed the hell out of him sometimes too. Dean threw on the charm and smarm. “But we’ve both had a rough go the past twenty four hours, so a few days relaxing in a motel with some good, old fashioned pay-per-view will do us good.”

Sam huffed a laugh, then grimaced, one hand going to his stomach. Dean’s playful smirk lost a little bit of it’s sparkle, seeing Sam in pain. His eyes went to Sam’s abdomen, then his face, then back to the parking lot. “Yeah, okay,” Sam muttered, his words tattered around the edges. He swallowed, his mouth obviously dry.

Dean’s face went flat. He kicked himself for not stopping along the way to get them some water. Plus, Sam was really in pain if he wasn’t even going to argue at least a little. The pain meds he had gotten at the clinic must be wearing off. Dean pushed on the gas and scanned the numbers on the motel doors. He found their room and pulled into the nearest parking spot. Soon as he got Sam settled in for the night, he’d make a supply run. Stock up for the next three days of rehabilitation. He held out one of their key cards. “You good to get in on your own?”

“I’m fine, Dean,” Sam insisted, some of his natural brattiness coming out. He took the card Dean offered without another word and started to unbuckle his seatbelt.

The corner of Dean’s mouth curled up into a half smile. “Just asking, princess,” he quipped. “I’ll get our bags. Why don’t you head in and see what they got on offer. Classic Skinemax will put some color back in your cheeks.”

“Dean,” Sam whined, half exasperated and half amused. He rolled his eyes and shook his head, a faint blush rising to his cheeks nonetheless. A full smile spread across Dean’s face. Sam smiled at him, his face full of fondness. “Shut up,” he grumbled, pushing open his door.

Dean watched, still concerned but happy too, as Sam took his time in getting his ass out of the car. Dean waited. If he offered to help Sam would complain some more and wave him off, but every nerve in his body was honed in on Sammy, watching his every movement. Once Sam got his long limbs out and shut the door, Dean snapped into action.

He killed the ignition, yanked out the keys, got out, closed his door, opened the trunk, grabbed their overnight bags, slammed it shut and locked up the whole thing in the time it took Sam to amble his way to the room and open their door. Dean was quick on his heels, holding the door open for Sam once the great lummox passed through despite carrying everything. Sam, meanwhile, flicked on the lights. “Nice place,” he pointed out. Dean shrugged. So maybe he had splurged a little. Instead of the most basic two Queen beds, he had opted for two kings. And a microwave, and mini fridge, and coffeemaker. Basically what amounted to the deluxe suite around these parts.

“Only one in town with WiFi,” Dean lied, shutting down any chance of a debate. He really did not want to have to wrestle Sam into a three-day vacation. He needed bed rest and Dean was damn sure his little brother was going to get it. Sam nodded and headed further in, shuffling his way towards the beds. No rebuttal and no agenda other than going straight to bed. Dean walked inside and placed the Do Not Disturb sign on the doorknob before closing the door and locking them in for the night. “I knew my nerdy younger brother would demand internet access, so he could read articles about tax law and politics and other boring stuff like that.”

“It’s not boring,” Sam countered, tired but still a younger brother. “It’s important.”

“Of course, of course,” Dean facetiously placated while depositing their bags on the luggage rack. Sam wandered to the left hand bed and gingerly reached down to pull out the bedding. Dean hovered, at the ready. Sam got one corner free and most of that one side then gave up and slowly began to sit. Dean strode over and immediately finished untucking the rest of the sides.

“I got this, De,” Sam complained, hissing as he lowered himself down.

“Just making sure,” Dean replied. He yanked the covers out from under his brother as quick as he could and pushed them aside so they could be in easy reach. Once he got to the other side of the bed, he nabbed both pillows and stuffed them directly behind his brother’s back so he would be propped up. Sam didn’t comment on that, but Dean could feel his ambivalence even without him saying anything. He held out his hands so Sam could use him for balance if need be as he turned to lay down. Sam didn’t wave him off, but he also didn’t take Dean up on his silent offer. He gradually lifted one leg up onto the mattress without having to move too much.

Dean saw Sam’s grimace coming a mile away. “Here, let me.”

“I’m fine,” Sam reiterated, his breath huffy with strain. Despite his protests, he went a little limp and Dean swooped in. He crossed back over to Sam’s side and gently eased Sam’s long legs up onto the mattress and out to their full length. Sam sighed, wriggling to find a comfortable position. Dean sat at the foot of the bed and without any prompting started untying Sam’s boots. “De, you don’t have to—“

“Hey,” Dean interjected, all jokes aside. He looked Sam square in the eye. “Lemme take care of you a little, huh?”

Sam bit his lip, whatever masculine rebuke he had at the ready dying away under Dean’s determined expression. He nodded. Dean did the same then went back to taking off his brother’s boots.

The laces were a bit crusty with blood and mud, but Dean untangled them. Then holding the back of Sam’s shin, Dean gently tugged the boot off. Sam took a steadying breath. Dean paused. On Sam’s signal Dean helped him off with the other boot, then placed them on the floor by the bed.

“There. That wasn’t so bad was it?” Sam shook his head, his long hair pushed back behind his ears. Dean grinned and went for the socks. Sam curled his toes. “My feet are cold,” he said quiet and feeble like a little kid.

“Okay.” Dean grabbed the sheets and blanket instead. He draped them over Sam’s legs and tucked them in. Like he used to do when Sammy was a kid. The you-are-not-getting-out-of-bed-without-my-help obvious. He got the bedding up to Sam’s waist, then helped his brother sit up and get out of his jacket one arm at a time. “They give you a list of antibiotics?”

“Jacket pocket.”

Dean fished for a second and came up with the folded print out from the clinic. He unfolded it and started skimming. “What about painkillers?”

“On there too.”

“I’ll get ‘em in the morning,” Dean proclaimed.

“I need a bath,” Sam said, leaning into his pillows like a storybook princess. His eyes already fighting to stay open.

“Tomorrow, Sammy.” Dean stuffed the care instructions into his back pocket and smirked. “I’ll get a bucket and a sponge.”

“And a sexy nurse outfit?” Sam quipped, a sleepy smile on his lips.

“You bet, Sammy. The whole nine yards. Might even get a sexy chick in here to wear it.” Dean stepped up to Sam’s side and helped bring the sheets up to Sam’s chest. Sam let him, doing nothing but pull his arms free and settle them on top of the blanket cocoon.

Dean’s heart clenched seeing Sam so pale and weak. “You gave me quite a scare there for a minute, Sammy,” he whispered, brushing his thumb along his brother’s forehead like he used to do when they were little.

“Sorry, De,” Sam mumbled, a contented sigh escaping as he drowsily leaned into his brother’s soft, warm touch. He closed his eyes.

“Not your fault, Sammy,” Dean assured him. On a whim he couldn’t deny, he leaned forward and placed a kiss on Sam’s forehead. He froze in place, shocked at his own actions. Sam hummed softly. Dean got up in a flash and stepped back only then realizing he was still holding Sam’s jacket. He looked between his brother and the jacket and murmured, “Night night, Sammy.”

Sam mumbled some sounds but then he was out like a light. Again. Dean watched him sleep for a moment, relief and shame and need all warring in his chest for pride of place. He clutched Sam’s jacket tightly, then brought it up to his face. The jacket was still warm from Sammy’s body heat and Dean took a deep whiff. It smelled of hospital, that sterile antiseptic stink, and faintly of blood, but also of Sam. That pure, working-man’s musk he knew as well as his own hit his brain and his chest relaxed.

His Sammy was alive. That’s all that mattered. That’s all that ever mattered, really. Something clicked in his head. A jigsaw piece sliding into place, a perfect fit and necessary for the whole thing to make sense. Sammy. It was always Sammy. And it always would be, Sammy as long as Dean was alive. He didn’t need anyone else. No other soul than the one he shared with his perfect baby brother.

It wasn’t anything he hadn’t already thought or said as much out loud, but that haunting uneasiness regarding that simple truth was gone. As was the shame. Sammy was his world. Point blank. How many times had he proven that to himself, to Sam, and pretty much everyone they had ever met? Sammy was his whole world and his world was alive and needed him. What more could he ask for right at this moment?

[mimithings97]

7:41pm Pt.2 (M)

FuckBuddy Tae wanting a taste of you early in the morning

Warnings: SMUTTTTTT. Tae just wants to lick you all over. Like SPIT!

A/N: Follow on from the 7:41 FuckBuddy Tae with the spitting kink. Same Y/N but can be stand alone’s if you want. Again, zero excuses as to the dirt I’m spewing. Actually black swan Taehyung is my excuse, he needs to STOP. 

Taehyung’s adamant he drew the short straw last night. You called him over, all sultry and seductive with the pictures on snapchat to match, but followed through with a mere one round. Call him selfish, but his mum always taught him to be an overachiever and, fighting his way through the cold on a Tuesday evening for a one pump chump kind of booty call, left space for selfishness. 

It’s why he wakes up hornier than usual. Or maybe it’s your warmth next to him and the feeling of your dip in the side of the bed. Or maybe how the sheets are cast far away from your body because you can’t stand the summer heat, so you’re in all your naked glory. Either or, his boxers are tight and he doesn’t even need to feel himself up to get to full mast. 

Your smell is all over him from last night, as well. The pillow he nestles into whilst still in the thrones of sleep is too. He follows it until he meets the source. Your hair, graceful in its splay, and lit with morning sunlight from blinds left untouched. He’s no romantic, and neither of you are relationship material for one another, but you look like a home he can get lost in right now.

His idea of such intimacy, however, doesn’t come in the form of soft spoken pillowtalk or light trailing touches across your hip. He will admit his fingers do twitch at the thought, though. His lips seek you instead. An overwhelming desire to taste you and taste you again. That damn smell. And your damn nakedness.

It has him lapping at the junction of your neck which you normally crawl into because you’re ticklish like that. But you merely stir, still lulled in sleep by the ambient noises projected from the slit where you left your window open. So he takes his share. Tasting from neck to shoulder. From shoulder to ear. The occasional nip of his teeth at skin just so he can confirm to himself that you’re real, wholesome and so fucking soft.

Soft enough that he keeps his touch light when he decides his hands destination is your pussy. Maybe with a quick detour so he can pinch at your nipples. They’re hard. Been exposed to the light chill of having no covers or protection for quite some time. His mouth has to busy itself at your ear so he doesn’t succumb to the desire to suck one nipple harshly and play with the other harsher. 

“Taee.” It’s a whine. An impatient one though that tells him you’re not to be roused from your slumber. 

“Shhh, just let me.” But he’ll persist. 

He cups where you’re bare and warm, wet also, because maybe he insisted you went to sleep stuffed full like a chistmas turkey, but he’s all the more happy, now, that he did. He gets the lubrication he needs to tickle around your clit in perfect cirles - almost a game to see when he slips up. He’ll know because you’ll whine.

The sheets crumple under him as he shuffles into your back, skin to skin, and his boxers, under the strain of where he’s stiff, find a home between your cheeks. He’s sensitive. So damn sensitive from a pent up night that he moans a lick up the side of your neck. Wet. A path of saliva he’s happy about.

“Urgh, sleeping Tae, just get yourself off without waking me up.”

He doesn’t care that there’s no romance, no intimacy in your tone. Not when he’s got a handful of your pussy and a cockful of your bare ass. 

“Kiss me first.” Yet he’s selfish and in dire need of your lips. It’s the taste. 

“Kiss my fucking ass, you bitch, I’m sleeping, already told you.”

But the way you rock into him a little, lay a claim on his boner by moving back and forth, has him smirking. It’s hot when you’re all denial in your words, but your body. just. can’t. help. itself. 

“I’ll kiss your ass if you ask nicely. Promise.” He means it. He promises he’ll duck under covers just for a taste of your hole. His insides tighten at the thought. And he thrusts, just a little, but enough he’s biting your neck again. 

He hears you laugh, and then suck in a little too much air to still find the humour of it all. Not when he slips his thumb shallow into your pussy.

“Wet little cunt.” It’s deaf on your ears, he knows, but he’s not here to sweet talk you into submission because he knows you’ll give out anyway. No, he narrates for his own purpose. 

You groan out when he sinks his thumb further and he swallows his own moan down into your jaw. “Talk shit about being asleep but your cunts beggin’ to be filled.” 

He’s so damn dirty. Horny and filthy. It has you being chipped away bit by bit as the sleep on you fades and his boner digs in a bit deeper.

“If only you’d keep up on your promises.” You’ve lent into the way he laps at your throat, now, and Taehyung knows he’s stolen you from where you were hiding. You’re his for the taking if he plays his cards right. 

“I could, yeh. But where’s the fun in that, baby.” 

He’s played the perfect hand it turns out, luring you through words and the push and pull at all of your sensitive spots so that you’re fastening a grip on his hard on and steering it in line with where you gush. 

Taehyung’s very in tune to your incentive. Perhaps all too quick to jump on the train because his thumb leaves you gaping just as quick as he’s got a cockful of that same hole. 

“Urgh, I hate you.” 

Keep saying that, is all he thinks. It does wonders for his ego having a girl too much of a slut for him that her words can’t keep up with her body. And your body’s writhing all over him. 

“Yessss. Wet. Deep. Fuckk.” He’ll make home in your pussy because it’s that damn tight. Tight enough he becomes senile every time. “Could fuck you all day, jesus.” And spouts the most shit. 

“At this speed, yeh, christ Tae.” You’re having a dig, as per usual, and he’s not going to let it be one of those rare occasions where you’re allowed to run your mouth. Not when he’s this horny and wanting to have you just ‘shut the fuck up’ unless it’s his name on your breath.

So he resolves the matter. Finding pleasure in how you’re silenced when he gets a good grip on your throat, and buck back into one of his thrusts also. 

The sun is high enough in it’s morning glory that he gets a good sight of the pleasure written on your face, mouth agape and struggling for air and your breast spilling from left to right as he puts your cunt through its paces. 

“Fucking kiss me.” Is what he thinks out loud. And you have no choice but to oblige. But it’s no kiss, not the conventional kind anyway. It’s Taehyung with a filthy tongue that paints the outside of your mouth and occasionally catches between your lips. 

He picks up his pace when you moan at how he licks from one corner of your face to the other. He just wants to be all over you. Call him an animal, but he can’t help that he’s some kind of primitive when he’s this deep in you. 

“I want to cum in you.” He spells out. Desperate and wholesome. “Really deep in you, baby.” 

Shit. It’s a name for you that is only dragged out of the locker if he’s really struggling to keep tabs on his sanity. You’d claimed the first time he used it, it wasn’t degrading enough, so he opted for other routes. But there’s a few times where he’s too damn lost at the sight of you sucking him in whole, or tasting you deeply that he finds himself calling out for you with zeal.

“Yeah? Please.” 

Urgh, ‘please’. He’s a sucker for the silk you speak. 

“Tell me how much you need it, baby.” 

Your eyes are at their whites now that he’s heading home, fast and hard and without reserve. 

“Fucking neeedd it Tae. All of it.” 

“Shitting hell, yeah you do, slut.” And with his new found pace, a pile drive reaching up into your throat, you’re loud. 

“Pleaseee.” He lodges two fingers into your mouth for the sake of how fucked out he is. It’s probably a possession kind of thing. To have him in every part of you. He unconsciously makes you choke, too. 

“Fuck, tighten like that again and I’ll cum.”

You gargle. 

“Open your eyes baby. Look at me, fuck,” and you do it, but barely, with the need to shut your eyes tight and just take the orgasm in it’s load, fighting at you. But you obey. He watches your eyes glisten and mouth drool as you follow the darkening of his gaze. 

You scream from somewhere under his fingers as he tightens his hold so you’re flush against him. 

Quick, sharp hits, deep into you and your cervix. 

It has you so fucking undone, and he knows because you cry. Eyes pooling and drowning at the strain of watching him follow. 

“Fucking hell, Y/N, oh my god,” he’s shocked at the power that overtakes him, “oh m- holy fucking shittt.”

He can’t help when he sticks his tongue down your throat as he cums at the same time, juttering messily both with his hips and tongue. 

It’s so damn hard. A band snapping somewhere. A fire down to his toes. The fucking visual of you crying and quaking even though it’s the first thing in the morning. 

In the tresses of his orgasming state he kisses you wholly. 

“You’re amazing, fuck. All day. Want this all day.”

“Mmm,” he’s deaf and probably rightly so, because he doesn’t want to know whether you’ve reciprocated his drunken incentive. A lustful exploration of the boundaries of whatever the fuck you two are. But you seem unabashed, at least, still quivering, and lapping at his tongue as he does yours. 

Always so damn messy. 

“Cumslut.” 

His head spins.

“Says the guy who can’t get his fucking fill. It’s 7 in the damn morning, Tae.” True. 

“You provide your pussy, who am I to say ‘no’?” Also true.

You draw yourself away so his dick falls flaccid onto the mattress, a sad awakening to the day, especially when you look as though you’re headed straight back to sleep. 

But, instead, he’s left a little wordless when you’re turned, naked again, with the sheet kicked away, and grabbing at the skin of his back so he’s drawn closer. An intimate kind of closer. He thinks maybe he should out you.

But you beat him to it. 

“Hmmm, I’m amazing aren’t I? You could fuck this pussy all day yeh? All yours apparently.” 

It’s his words spouted back to him, carelessly. But now he knows you noticed him drunk on your sex, he might just be blushing. 

[dwaynepride]

Text Message

Summary: Tony DiNozzo is stuck at work, so reader starts texting him.

Words: 2,082

Warnings: kinda saucy but nothing bad

Tags: @jrenn10​ @dressed-up-just-like-z1ggy​ @ms-allenbrown​ @ikbenplant​ @dylpickles1267​ @diaryofafan17​ @specialagentlokitty​ @stanathanxoox​ @pageofultron​

Notes: wrote this in a single night uwuwu i hope y’all like it. feedback would be gucci

Tony hasn’t been this focused - this concentrated - in a while.

His hands are perfectly steady, like stone; the envy of artists. Heartbeat slow but hard. He’s barely breathing, hardly daring to take too heavy a breath for fear of undermining everything he’s done for the past hour. Tony’s eyes are focused like lasers, never wavering from his target. Everything outside of his immediate vicinity fades into background noise. Nothing, no one, is so important to drag the agent out of his focus.

The palms of his hands are sweaty, but it doesn’t matter. Tony knows he’s kicking ass, a little nervous sweat won’t change that...

Suddenly, his phone makes a noise, alerting him about a new text from somebody who isn’t aware of Tony’s achievements. His focus snaps, and he jumps in surprise at the sudden alert. He remembers, half a second too late, that he should keep his shock under wraps.

But it’s too late. The surprised jolt of his hands causes a complete collapse of the impressive house of cards that Tony has built over the past hour. It spills over his desk, cards fluttering to the floor, and he can only watch with annoyed anguish.

Tony snatches up his phone, mouth dropped open to prepare his barrage of complaints to poor McGee about the person who ruined his house of cards. The probie is the only person in the bullpen, so he will be subjected to hearing the bitching of the senior agent.

Though, seeing your name light up his screen did curb Tony’s frustration a bit. It always had a way of doing that. Cards forgotten, Tony opens the text just as fast as he can:

         when are you coming over? ;)

The text prompts a wide smile over his face. It was hard to remember being annoyed about the broken house of cards; you were thinking about him. More importantly, thinking about the loosely-made plans he made about coming over tonight with a bottle of wine and a movie that, frankly, he doesn’t care about. It’s been longer than Tony would like since the last date you shared.

Unfortunately, the case they’re working on took a critical turn. Tony doesn’t think he’s ever seen Gibbs this wound up; not in a while, at least. That fact tugs his smile down as his fingers move to reply:

         Might not be able to. really busy.

Tony hits send, and then keeps his eyes on the screen. You don’t answer right away. Guilt tugs at his chest, making him frown with a furrow of his eyebrows. You seemed really excited about getting some time with him, and Tony just up and brushes off those plans. He wouldn’t be all too surprised if you were mad at him.

He sets the phone aside, straightening up in his chair. Maybe if he works extra hard, gets a lot more done than anybody else, that would warrant him leaving before midnight. And just as Tony sets his sights on the computer screen, his phone chimes again.

“Are you even working, over there?”

Tony’s head snaps up at the sound of a very annoyed-sounding McGee. The younger agent is looking over with a frown, and Tony just scoffs at the accusatory question. “Of course, I am. It’s called multi-tasking. Maybe do less talking and do more working, okay?”

Still, McGee had something of a point. If Gibbs catches him texting you instead of working, there’ll be a bent in the back of his head. So Tony sets the phone on vibrate before going to open the text.

The fact that you were still texting him meant you couldn’t be too upset, right? Though, Tony doesn’t feel much better at your message:

         :(

Alright, maybe you were upset.

Seconds later, a second message follows the frowny face:

         but i really miss you.

Despite the guilt gnawing at his belly, the second text doesn’t make Tony feel as bad as it probably should. Maybe he’s just starved for affection or something, but it felt nice to be missed. To be thought about all day. He doubts his fish are capable of missing him.

He’s about to respond with a sweet, saucy message. Tony is usually good at stuff, like that. Something that’ll make you feel better. Something to get you to forgive him.

But then he receives a third message. A photo, actually. Of you, wearing one of his old Ohio State shirts. And the length of your bare legs tells him that you aren’t wearing any pants. In fact, from this angle, Tony wonders if you’re even wearing anything at all, besides his shirt. There’s gotta be some special reason why you decided to take the picture.

And his second thought is very simple; ‘oh shit, that’s so fucking hot.’

Tony pulls his phone against his chest, head swiveling around in case of eavesdroppers. If there was ever a time that Gibbs would show up behind him, it was now. But there was no one around. And McGee was too focused on his work to notice Tony. Against his chest, the phone vibrates, and a thrill of excitement follows it. He carefully pulls his phone away to see the message.

It’s another picture. The hem of his shirt is at your navel now, showing off a delectable little pair of blue lacy underwear that he didn’t even know you owned. Tony had made it his mission to be well-acquainted with each and every pair you had, so how did this one fly under his radar?

Regardless, the picture nearly has Tony drooling at the mouth. He had to call you. Right now. He doesn’t know what he’ll say to you, per se. Maybe a cross between scolding you for distracting him so easily, and praising you for how fucking sexy these pictures are.

He stands suddenly, and the noise his chair makes attracts McGee’s attention. As Tony is quickly walking past his desk, phone to chest, the younger agent is frowning at him once again. “Where are you going?” He asks bluntly.

“To the bathroom, McNosy.”

For once, that’s all he’s willing to say to McGee. He doesn’t want to chance an argument when there are more important things to deal with. Tony tries to walk as normally as possible to the men’s room. But just as soon as he’s through the door, he’s bending over the check the stalls. Pleased to find them all empty, Tony quickly flips the lock before leaning his back against the door and pulling his phone back out.

And he admires the pictures for a second (alright, it was easily at least five entire seconds) before his fingers move to call you.

It rings much longer than it should. You had to know he’ll be texting back or even calling you; this was purposeful. You were teasing him.

Finally, the ringing stops when you pick up, and Tony can’t stop himself from holding his breath. “Hello?” Your voice sounds so innocent. So sweet.

Like hell.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“What do you mean, Tony?”

“Don’t play dumb. The pictures?”

There’s a small moment of silence, and Tony can practically hear his own heartbeat in the silence of the bathroom. “I found your old Ohio shirt, and I just thought you’d wanna know,” you reply. Such a weak excuse.

“Yeah, uh huh. And where’d you find it? My closet? Because it’s always been there.”

Suddenly, you erupt into an adorable little fit of laughter. And despite himself, Tony’s smiling at the sound. He almost doesn’t want to go back to being so serious. “Seriously, sweetheart, I’m trying to get some work done.”

“So you don’t like the pictures?” You ask him. There’s a sharp contrast to your tone; it has a faux little disappointed tone to it.

And Tony doesn’t buy it. His eyes give a roll. “Well, it’s not that. It’s just...I’m trying to work. To finish up a case. And you’re making it a lot harder for me to concentrate.”

“So you do like them?” Tony can hear your shit-eating grin through the phone.

He sighs. Lowers his head to look at his shoes. “Yeah,” he mumbles.

There’s more laughter, from your end. Tony’s suddenly glad he locked himself in the bathroom. “Alright, I’m sorry for sending them,” you really shouldn’t be sorry, “but I just wanted to give you some, I don’t know, initiative?”

“Yeah? Initiative for what?”

“To come over tonight,” you answer. And then you’re shuffling around; Tony can pick up on the lack of teasing in your voice, compared to when you first picked up. “I know you said you’re busy, but I haven’t seen you in at least a week.”

Has it really been a whole week? Probably, for all he knows. There’s just been so much going on, and Tony’s still busy with a case. He’ll be damn lucky if he can get back to his desk without Gibbs waiting there for him with a fresh headslap and a Gibbs Glare. “Okay, you’re right. How about this weekend, we can-”

“No, Tony. Tonight.”

“I don’t know if I can.” Those words have never been more painful to get out.

Finally, you let out a slow sigh into the phone. And Tony finds himself leaning his head into the phone for your next words. He’s just hoping you wouldn’t be too mad at him. “That’s okay.” It is? “But I don’t know if I’ll still have this pair of underwear by then. They’re kinda old...”

Oh no. Not the lace.

Tony knows you’re playing him like a fiddle. And it’s definitely working. “Sweetie...”

“I’ll see you tonight, Tony.”

The call clicks off. It’s quiet now, but the way you said his name has Tony worried that he’ll be just a little too excited to walk back to his desk as if nothing’s happened. His mind is swirling with the conversation he just had, and then wonders if there’s any way in hell he can get out of work for the rest of the day.

A knock on the bathroom door drags him out of his thoughts. Tony immediately unlocks the door and pulls it open, only barely giving the nameless agent a nod as he pads out and makes for the bullpen.

If anything, Tony is just thankful he can’t see the terrifying swath of silver hair anywhere.

He turns into the bullpen, still juggling a couple options of escape. And he barely hears McGee when the younger agent speaks up. “Everything okay?” He asks.

“Fine,” Tony answers curtly. And then he stops, shaking his head, and glances back to McGee. “Actually? No. Nothing is okay. Nothing will ever be okay ever again.”

He continues to his desk and slumps down into the chair, angrily swiping off the mess of cards. But Tony can still feel the gaze of his fellow agent, and when he looks up, McGee looks more than a little concerned. So he gives a huff. “Something really, uh....important came up. Something that I really can’t miss. But I’m stuck here,” Tony explains.

How will he possibly make this up to you? It’ll cost him a pretty expensive dinner. Maybe a weekend away from DC...

“I can cover for you.”

McGee’s words has Tony’s head snapping up in attention, eyes wide and blinking in surprise. He sits up straight in his chair, regarding the probie with a bit of caution. “Don’t give me hope, McGee. I don’t think I can take it, right now,” he warns lowly. If this was some kind of prank, Tony may just die.

But McGee just rolls his eyes and moves his chair to face Tony. “Look, if it’s really so important, I’ll just tells Gibbs you got sick or something.” He stops, suddenly worried that he’s being too nice. So McGee turns back to his computer with a frown. “Besides, I don’t want to listen to you complain all night.”

Tony doesn’t even care about that last comment. He’s too full of joy to care. But somehow, perhaps through years of his intense training as a federal agent, Tony is able to keep a lid on his excitement. He’s able to stand and gather his things without so much as a boyish grin on his face, despite the temptation of one. 

“Thanks, Probie. I owe you big time.”

In his joy, Tony feels like waltzing over and kissing McGee to show his thanks. But he doesn’t.

He’s saving his kisses for you.

[swlbarnes]

More Like Home - Jack Kline x Reader

Summary/Request: @previouslyforgotten requested:  Hi! It’s me again. I was wondering if you could do a someone x reader fluff where the reader is decorating her room in the bunker because she thinks it’s too bland and the man of men of your choice help? Preferably Dean or Jack? But you can pick whoever:)

Pairing: Jack Kline x Reader

Word Count: ~3.6k

Warnings: none!! fluffy fluff with jack and the brothers!!

A/N: okay so when given a choice i tend to choose jack, and im sorry, so i tried to put a smidge of dean in there as well! i hope this is okay, thank you so so much for the request!! i love your ideas so much, they’re so soft :)

BUY JACK’S SCENT HERE!

It didn’t feel right. No matter what you did, or how you moved the existing items around, it just didn’t feel right. Going on two years of living at the bunker with what Dean had deemed Team Free Will 2.0, you began to realize just how drab you seemed to feel in your given room. While the golden numbers adoring the door, addressing it as room 17, were always a welcoming sight after a long hunt, you couldn’t help but want… more from the interior.

Sure, you had your fair share of sentimental objects. Your guns and knives were displayed proudly on one wall, always well within reach and easy to dismount if the need to use them arose, which it so often seemed to do. A few pictures cataloging your travels with the boys littered the space, along with your notebooks and other hunting materials scattered about. This was nice, and offered a great reminder that this place was where you slept, but it still didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel like home.

You lay on your back, arms and legs spread out like a starfish pondering this exact idea the day that the bunker’s resident Nephilim, Jack Kline, decided to pay you a visit. Your door was already open, but he made a point to stop at the threshold and tap his knuckles against the wooden slab to alert you of his presence. “(Y/N)?” He called to you in question. You made no move to get up, and simply let out a low hum in response. The sound of shuffling footsteps grew ever closer. “Are you alright?”

A sigh escaped your lips at this query. Now, how were you meant to respond to that? Were you okay? In theory, perhaps you were doing just fine, but this answer just didn’t seem to suffice for your mind. So, instead, in a rash decision making moment, you blurted out a simple, “no.”

This seemed to be the wrong answer. Hardly a moment passed before Jack was pulling you up into a sitting position, his eyes wide in panic as they scanned you for any visible injuries. “What’s wrong? What’s happened? How can I help? I want to help, let me fix it!” He blubbered on without end. His hands pressed against your cheeks and he turned your head every which way in an attempt to spot the problem. 

“Jack,” you tried. He continued on. “Jack,” a bit louder this time. His voice grew in volume as well, incoherent gibberish of worry at this point. “Jack!”

Finally, he froze in place. Then, within a moment’s notice, his hands were gone from your skin, and a fresh blush swept up his neck and along his cheeks. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I meant to say, uhm, what’s wrong? And… how can I help?” 

You furiously fought against the smile tugging at your lips, but in the end your expression won out. A bright grin plastered itself across your face. “I’m actually okay, Jack. You don’t have to worry about anything, alright? I’m okay,” you reassured the nephilim. Even still, his crystalline sapphire gaze ran along your skin in a fervor.

“You’re sad.” This wasn’t even a question, but instead a statement of fact.

“I wouldn’t necessarily say I’m sad, per se,” you tried to ease his tension somewhat. The celestial being was having none of this, and swiftly caught on to the ambiguity of your words.

“But you’re not happy.”

Your nose wrinkled in thought. The nephilim was smarter than he ever dared to let on, and definitely more observant than your fellow housemates saw him for. “I’ll be okay, Jack. I’m just thinking, is all.” 

The boy pulled his legs up onto the bed, crossing his legs over each other criss cross style to face you fully. Comfy sweatpants covered his legs and a soft knitted sweater adorned his torso. Even in the summer months, the bunker could be quite cold, and there was only one reason that you never asked Dean to turn the heating up. As long as the air retains its usual chill, you get the pleasure of seeing a comfortably soft Jack Kline all year round.

Jack reached down and plucked carefully at the fabric of your comforter. A scowl formed on your face at the sight of the thing. It was the same tan sheet that adorned the beds in most every bedroom. It wasn’t special. It wasn’t yours. This room wasn’t yours. Everything was just a constant reminder of that fact.

You had to say, you truly envied the brothers’ abilities to cope in an environment that was so out of your comfort zone. Sam, though you know he had started out his time at the bunker in denial that it would ever become his home, had come around in previous years and began adding personal touches to his own space. The television was an important part of his room, usually playing some of his favorite movies or the local news station to stay updated on current happenings. His favorite books lay scattered on every conceivable surface. Room twenty-one was Sam’s and only Sam’s. Dean’s room held even more of his own personal touches. From the stereo concealing a hefty collection of vinyl records underneath it to the guns adorning the wall to even the countless family photos both taped to his walls and leaning haphazardly against various objects on his desk, room number eleven was undoubtedly the home of one Dean Winchester. 

But room seventeen? It could belong to just about anyone. You had hardly changed a thing since moving in. Most of the room remained in the same pristine state the Men of Letters had left it in all those years ago. It might as well be some random hotel room, capable of housing just about anybody at any time. It wasn’t yours. 

“Jack,” you spoke up suddenly, your mind set. The nephilim peered up at you in question. “Do you want to go into town with me?”

The boy’s brows furrowed in confusion, but he nodded all the same. “Can I ask why?”

Turning to the boy, you cast him a smile. “I’ve gotta make this house a home,” you hummed. Glee dripped from your words at the prospect of finally doing this. You were finally going to make this room your own, and no Winchesters were going to stop you.

-

Sam and Dean let the pair of you go relatively easily. That is, Dean ceased his interrogation once you assured him that you weren’t taking the Impala, driving the point home by jingling the pair of keys in your hand: keys that undoubtedly belonged to the ‘67 Ford Mustang you had brought back to the bunker after having fallen in love with the thing on a hunting trip to an old used car lot. You pocketed some cash and a couple of fraudulent credit cards, and you were on your way.

“So,” Jack began as he buckled the seat belt around his waist, “what exactly are we doing?”

Fair enough question. You hadn’t actually said your plan out loud. Jack was simply excited to spend time outside of the bunker (plus, the fact that it was with you was a real bonus in his eyes). You began to explain as you revved the engine to the old muscle car. “My room is just so… drab, you know? I want to make it feel more like home. So, you and I are going shopping!” The boys eyes lit up at this. “We’re going to go out and find some decorations and maybe we’ll paint the walls and everything. It’s gonna be fun!”

His feet shuffled in excitement. You had a feeling that, had you the ability to see into the boy’s mind, you would see a flurry of thoughts about how he had never been shopping for decorations and renovations before. That much would be true. The hunter’s life didn’t have much time for simple pleasures, so the fact that you were able to give Jack this little glimpse into a normal life sent your heart aflutter.

The ride into town felt shorter than usual, likely to do with the company you kept and your own choice of music permeating the air. Jack’s head bobbed along with the beat of the song flowing from the radio. Your hands smacked in tandem against the steering wheel, which the nephilim quickly likened to the eldest Winchester’s own driving habits. You poked your tongue out at Jack in retaliation, reaching out to turn the volume up to block his words out. 

Shopping with Jack was more fun than you could have even imagined it would be. He had such a wonderful reaction to every new thing he experienced, and it was clear that he wanted to soak in every aspect of human culture he possibly could. He was practically bouncing on his heels by the time you made it to the lighting section of the local hardware store. The way the seemingly endless aisle of lamps and lighting fixtures reflected in his irises made it difficult to maintain a casual facade, and you soon found yourself reaching out and grabbing his hand as you made your way through the store. This was normal as ever to the boy, who gripped your hand back just as eagerly and tugged you towards the mirror section.

Choosing a paint color was quite an adventure as well. Jack took this entire ordeal very seriously, especially after you explained to him how your current living situation made you feel. The discomfort you described was utterly unacceptable in his eyes. If a new coat of paint on your walls could alleviate that feeling and make you feel more at home, then the boy was going to do his best to make it the best paint color you had ever seen. That’s why you ended up standing in front of the display of paint swatches for around an hour before he finally allowed you to make a decision. It was all worth it in the end, especially once the paint mixer buzzed to life and Jack’s soft gasp sounded from by your side. He didn’t stop talking about how pretty the colors blending together was on the whole car ride to your next stop.

Item after item got checked off the list inside your mind. Picture frames, a new comforter, fresh pillow cases, professionally printed photos of yourself and the rest of the team, wall art, a soft new rug, little desk ornaments, and basically anything that popped into your mind that would make the space feel more like you. Jack even took it upon himself to buy you both matching art pieces, claiming that he wanted to have a piece of you in his own room to make sure you always felt like you were together. It took all of your willpower not to tear up as he happily placed the framed photos into the shopping cart. 

You arrived back at the bunker just as the last rays of daylight peeked out above the horizon. Jack, of course, insisted on carrying as many shopping bags as he could possibly fit on his arms. He was half angel, he reminded you, therefore weight wasn’t a big deal whatsoever. This made the unpacking process relatively simple, especially once you walked past Sam and Dean and the pair begrudgingly stood up and shuffled through the halls to follow you into the garage and help you with the rest of the bags.

“What’s all this for?” Dean’s voice called with a grunt as he readjusted his hold on the box containing your new nightstand.

You twirled around on your heels so you were walking backwards down the hallway, now facing Dean and Sam. “I decided my room was too… blah. Not enough me, not enough like a home. So, Jack and I went out and bought some stuff and we’re going to redo it! Painting the walls, new furniture, new pictures, the whole shabang. You guys wanna help?” You beamed at the pair of brothers. They shared a questioning look with each other, both shrugging before turning to you and agreeing. 

“Where’d you get the money, anyways?” Sam queried with a furrowed brow. You turned back around and cleared your throat in a bit of an awkward fashion. 

“I might’ve… stolen a couple of debit cards. And also a little credit card fraud. But it’s okay! Because when are we ever really gonna go back to those stores anyways, right?” You passed it off with a chuckle. The beginnings of an argument about how we don’t do credit card fraud this close to home and if you need to spend money in town then at least get the money legally arose from behind you, but it was too late. In a split second you picked up the pace and dashed off down the corridor towards your own room.

-

“No, no no no, not like that,” Dean corrected, reaching out and grabbing the paint roller from Jack’s hand. Only moments prior, the boy had tried to repeatedly press the cylinder against the wall in an attempt to apply the paint. This resulted in a small patch of globular paint right smack in the center of your wall. Your hand pressed firmly against your mouth in an attempt to fight back your laughter.

“I’ve never done this before,” Jack muttered in protest, his cheeks a bright crimson red due to his clear embarrassment. He peered over his shoulder at you, causing you to force back your amusement and offer him an encouraging smile.

“Okay, just… like this. Roll the paint on. That way it’ll be even, alright?” Dean demonstrated how to roll the paint onto the surface properly for a few strokes before offering the roller to the nephilim once again. Jack took the item with a newfound desire to do this right, and he continued to paint the wall in exactly the way that Dean displayed.

Sam emerged from the hallway empty handed, having just arrived back from wherever he decided to put your belongings while you started your renovations. At the moment, the entire room lay barren and empty, save for the paint cans and plastic lining protecting the floor from rogue paint. A thin layer of sweat made the taller brother’s hair lay flat against his forehead. He had done most of the heavy lifting so far. You found this amusing, seeing as Jack’s outlook on carrying heavy items seemed to change so drastically over the past hour or so. It occurred to you that it likely wasn’t the action itself that changed his mind, but perhaps there was an ulterior motive behind his kindness with you. The thought alone made you smile to yourself.

“You’re doing great, Jack!” Sam praised the boy, causing him to perk up significantly. Jack flashed a bright smile as he continued to work. 

Painting didn’t take quite as long as you expected. With the extra two pairs of hands, that meant each of you only had to focus on one wall. Soon enough, the walls were completely coated in your chosen color, and it was time to let them dry. You all took a break to eat dinner, which was filled with conversation about what you wanted your room to look like once it was complete. By the time you finished eating, the paint was dry and you were ready to move everything in. 

Strangely enough, Dean seemed to be the most hellbent on getting the “look” just right. Jack listened to whatever you said and wanted to a T, and Sam leisurely nodded and complied with your wishes as well. Dean, however, seemed to have a vision of sorts. Each time you explained your idea, he would interrupt you with a pitch for a completely different idea. Some worked, and you actually quite liked, others you ended up shooting down immediately. 

You worked all through the night, sharing stories and jokes as you went along. None of you seemed to feel the effects of the all nighter you ended up pulling. The atmosphere seemed too perfect to destroy with even a single yawn or complaint. At one point, as you and Jack worked on putting your new sheets onto your old bed, you couldn’t help but grab one of the pillows and toss it at the back of Dean’s head. Sam seemed to hold back his laughter to the best of his ability as his brother turned around with an all-too-serious look in his eyes. Within seconds, the eldest hunter grabbed the pillow from the floor and leapt up, charging at you with the fluff filled item held over his shoulder in preparation. A screech left your lips, and you bounded over the half made bed to cower behind Jack. And that was how not only Jack’s first pillow fight, but the first ever pillow fight in the bunker began. 

Your phone screen read 5:02 AM by the time you put the last touches on the space. One last flattening of the comforter, a quick check that the pictures on your desk were turned just so, and the final addition: a gun tucked carefully underneath your pillow. That was all it took for your room to be complete.You turned to the brothers and pulled them both into a hug. You expressed your true gratitude for their willingness to help you at such short notice, and for such a long period of time. Dean insisted that you owed him a new flannel for the fact that a splotch of paint was now visible on the fabric of the one he was wearing, but he retained his easy going smile all the same. Sam wrapped his arms around you and gave you a comforting squeeze, reminding you that he would always be there if you needed him for anything. And with that, they bid you adieu. 

That left just you and Jack in your newly completed room. You made your way over to your reclaimed bed and flopped down on your back, a soft smile adorning your face. A few seconds passed, and you peered over to where Jack still stood, simply watching you in wonder. You offered him a smile and patted the space next to you. He wasted no time as he, too, lay down atop the new sheets. A moment’s silence overtook you both, but it was far from uncomfortable. It felt like more of a mutual understanding. Like nothing need be said, because everything was already understood.

In a moment of surging self confidence, you reached over and grabbed his hand in your own. Your fingers laced together out of pure instinct. Just like back in the store, he reciprocated the affection immediately, even giving your hand a quick squeeze to show that this was okay. 

“Thank you,” you whispered into the tranquil atmosphere. The shuffle of fabric let you know that Jack had readjusted his position to be facing you without needed to see him at all.

“For what?” He asked you, his voice carrying the same soft tone as yours. He, too, clearly sensed the importance of this moment, and what it meant in the grand scheme of a hunter’s life. Moments like this don’t exist for hunters. Lives like this aren’t possible. But maybe, for just one second, you can pretend. Maybe you can pretend that this is a home, and that this is possible. Maybe you can pretend that your life can have something this good in it.

“For everything, really,” you began quite simply. You gazed blankly up at the empty expanse of your ceiling, wondering if Dean would ever let you live it down if you decided to put up those little glow in the dark stars. “I haven’t felt like this was my own space for… so long. It’s always felt like I’m just a guest, and that this is temporary. I keep waiting to have to pack up and leave for the next place. I even started avoiding this room altogether just so I didn’t have to face that feeling anymore. But after today?” You finally turned your head to look at the nephilim, only to find him gazing at you already with a look of pure awe. “You changed that, Jack. You helped me to make this something I can be proud of. I can feel comfortable and safe here, now. And I don’t think I would’ve taken that leap if I didn’t have you by my side.”

Slowly, the boy’s lips began to turn up into a smile. It wasn’t the smile he had been flashing all night. It wasn’t a bright, blindingly overjoyed grin that seemed to always split his face in half and fill the room with light. No, this smile was different. This smile was soft, and it carried the weight of everything the pair of you weren’t sure you should say. It was all you needed to see, and you let your head fall back down onto the soft sheets beneath you. 

The silence stretched on, but it didn’t matter. No words needed to be said for you to realize what you learned that morning, just as the sun began to color the sky a soft pink and the birds awoke with their song. This was a home, and it was your home. This was not temporary. This was your family. And this wasn’t pretending. You deserve the happiness and the love of that moment, basking in the relief of finding where you belong. You had found the good you needed, and you were going to hold onto it for as long as you possibly could. 

[akaluan]

Erich/Kisuke/Alexis: Soulmate AU + Character in Peril Part 9

Erich tugs at the cuffs of his uniform as he ducks out of his tent and scans the camp. He promised Degurechaff that he would rest, but… there was only so much lazing about and cuddling with Alexis he could do before he became restless, especially in their current situation.

So… he won’t do anything official, but surely there’s no harm in wandering the camp and checking in on his men. He’d been too out of it to really get a feel for the camp when they arrived back after that last raid, so now is as good a time as any.

Alexis takes her place at his side, fully armored and wearing her grey Quincy uniform, and shoots him a small smile as they set off, wandering through the camp without much of a destination.

He introduces her to their remaining officers as he goes, making sure everyone knows who she is and that she’s permitted within their camp; all it takes is one easily startled guard seeing an unrecognized person, and…

Erich considers Alexis’ outfit, wondering if he should get her some marking, some indication that she’s with him. Something that his men already know as part of the army uniform, maybe…

He’ll have to think on it.

“General!”

Erich pauses and turns, looking back at the man striding to catch up with him. “Major Schwarz,” he greets his subordinate. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes sir, everything’s fine,” Schwarz says as he comes to a stop and salutes. “I was just surprised to see you out and about after Colonel Degurechaff told us you were taking the day to rest.”

He arches an eyebrow and says dryly, “There’s only so much of the same four tent walls a man can take, Major. I’m just showing my wife around, nothing that Colonel Degurechaff can take offense at. Speaking of which… Alexis, this is Major Ivo Schwarz, the commander of our infantry battalion when I am otherwise occupied. Major, this is my wife and soulmate, Alexis von Rerugen.”

“Hello, Major,” Alexis says with a kind smile and a small nod.

“A pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” Schwarz returns with a nod of his own, then gives Erich a faint, amused smile. “The Colonel and Major Weiss are currently speaking with our supply-master if you want to avoid her for a while longer, sir.”

“Thank you, Major.” He’s not entirely certain if ‘avoiding Degurechaff’ is warranted or not, but if she’s busy he probably shouldn’t bother her. She’ll tell him what she discovers later after all, there’s no need for him to watch over her shoulder as she does her job.

Schwarz’s smile grows a bit larger at Erich’s non-answer, and he tilts his head slightly, a sly gleam in his eyes. “Not sure how you feel about gambling, ma’am, but I did hear that some of the off-duty officers are meeting at the back of the mess tent, sir.”

“Would one of these officers happen to be Lieutenant Serebryakov, by chance?” Erich asks, amused but also exasperated by the idea that people still try to gamble against Degurechaff’s adjutant despite her streak of luck.

“There’s more than one reason the stakes were set low,” Schwarz all but confirms.

Erich sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, already knowing exactly how the game is going to go. But on the other hand, Degurechaff did tell him to take it easy; joining an officer’s game of cards — even if most of the remaining officers are well below his rank and he normally wouldn’t — certainly counts as ‘taking it easy’.

Alexis nudges him with her shoulder and arches an eyebrow at him in question. “Problem, love?”

“No, it’s just… Lieutenant Serebryakov is quite adept at cards. That anyone is still willing to play against her surprises me.”

Schwarz snorts. “Lieutenant Serebryakov has the devil’s own luck. We’re just waiting for it to run out.”

Erich arches an eyebrow at his officer, amused by the turn of phrase considering Degurechaff’s most well known moniker. “You might be waiting a long time for that.”

“It’s a small price to pay for the chance at some of her stash,” Schwarz says with a grin. “Just a suggestion, sir. There aren’t enough officers left to make a really good game from just the people off-duty, so they’ll probably let you in.”

“Better I break the rules than them, hm?” Erich asks in amusement, then slants a questioning glance at Alexis. She plays cards, but whether she’ll want to play with officers under his command or not…

“Well, if that’s an invitation, I’m certainly interested,” she says with a nod to Schwarz.

“More the merrier, ma’am.”

Alexis hums and leans into Erich a bit. “If you don’t mind, husband-mine…?”

“We certainly have time. Thank you, Major. Will you be joining us?”

“Not quite yet,” Schwarz says with an apologetic smile. “Got a bit of work to get done first, and a report to write up for you to look over later, sir.”

“Let me know if you need anything from me,” Erich says, receiving a nod in return, and steps aside to allow Schwarz to continue on his way. He watches the man go, thinking on his words; if there aren’t enough officers with free time for a good game of poker…

Alexis nudges his shoulder to draw his attention back to her. “Set it aside and let your subconscious work out a solution,” she tells him. “Let’s go see how badly your men play, shall we?”

“They play terribly because Serebryakov is going to be there to make them all look terrible,” he tells her dryly, even as he turns to head towards the mess tent. He knows exactly where the game is set up, because he’s neither blind nor forgetful; it’s a common enough spot for people to gather and has been since the beginning of the war.

Not exactly how he expected to spend a few hours but…

There are worse ways to pass the time.

***

“Four’s a bit light for a game, isn’t it?” Erich asks lightly as he rounds the carefully arranged stack of crates and takes in the small table with Serebryakov and three others from Degurechaff’s magic battalion around it. As he expected, Serebryakov already has a small pile of tokens at her side while the others have less, but the stakes look harmless enough.

(It’s even carved wooden tokens instead of coin, so he can politely pretend that nothing against the rules is going on.)

“Sir!” all four say as they hastily scramble to their feet, cards forgotten for the moment.

“As you were. I’m not exactly on duty, right now,” he tells them, pleased when at least some of the tension leaves their posture. He gestures to Alexis and says, “Major Schwarz mentioned that the game was a bit empty and suggested we might join.”

Serebryakov blinks and looks up at Alexis. “You play, ma’am?”

“I’ve been known to,” Alexis agrees.

The four exchange looks, and Erich can tell they’re debating whether to let them in; it’s awkward enough with their commanding officer ‘asking’ to join, but a civilian as well? He wouldn’t be surprised if they found a way to redirect him somewhere else; Serebryakov is cunning enough to pull it off without seeming like that’s what she’s doing, but…

“Alright!” Serebryakov says cheerfully, dropping back into her seat and picking up her hand of cards. “We’ll deal you in next round, then! Ah… but I guess you don’t have any tokens, do you sir?” She hums and eyes the pot in the center, then her stack of tokens, and nods decisively. “I’ll give you some, then.”

“Thank you,” Erich says as he pulls a chair out for Alexis and then settles into a second, leaning back to watch the last of the game play out. At his side, Alexis watches with sharp eyes, amusement-interest-focus growing as Serebryakov continues to trounce her opponents with a smile.

It’s over before very long, with Serebryakov showing off a hand made of four tens and a jack, winning her the pot. She rakes it in and quickly stacks it up, even as Koenig gathers the cards and begins to shuffle them.

Serebryakov slides two stacks of tokens to him, another two to Alexis, then sits back with a pleased smile. “Here you go! We’re playing five card draw, one token ante, five token maximum per bet or raise, no limit on how many raises happen.”

“I’m surprised at how low that is,” Erich says as he picks up the cards dealt to him and considers his hand; a pair of sevens and little else of value.

She shrugs and flashes him one of her brightest — and most dangerous — smiles. “It’s standard on any game I’m part of, though I’m not sure why…”

Neumann, sitting on Serebryakov’s other side, scoffs and sends Serebryakov’s stack of tokens — still large despite giving some to both Alexis and Erich — a pointed look. “I wouldn’t know why,” he says dryly as he arranges his cards in his hand.

“Me neither,” Grantz agrees as he eyes his cards and then everyone else, gaze skipping half-nervously over Erich. “Guess we’ll never know.”

Alexis laughs at their easy banter. “Pass,” she decides after a moment.

“Pass,” Erich agrees, not yet willing to bet on a single pair.

Grantz sets two more tokens in the pot and leans back with a smile. “Well, I’m going to bet.”

Neumann huffs a laugh and sets three tokens in, shooting Grantz a challenging look as he does. Serebryakov easily puts three in as well, Koenig shakes his head and folds, and then it’s back to Alexis, who shrugs and tosses three into the pot.

“Fold,” Erich decides as he tosses his cards into the discard pile and sits back, unwilling to face off against Serebryakov while relying on luck.

(He’s going to need enough of that tonight as it is, he doesn’t need to push it here for a friendly game.)

Amusement-warmth-exasperation filters through from Alexis, and he counters it with fondness-anticipation-just wait as he watches the game move on and Koenig deal out replacement cards for people.

This time, Alexis bets and Grantz folds, and then Serebryakov bets and Neumann folds and then—

Alexis grins. Raises the bet higher. Meets Serebryakov’s gaze and arches an eyebrow in challenge.

“I’m good,” Serebryakov announces as she matches Alexis’ bet and then lays her cards out, showing a full house.

Alexis hums and lays her cards down, her own, slightly higher ranked full house on display. “My match this time,” she announces as she sweeps the pot to her under the surprised stare of the four Lieutenants. “I believe it’s my turn to deal?”

“Oh—right, sorry,” Koenig says as he shakes his head and gathers up the cards to pass to her along with the dealer’s token.

She takes the deck and begins to shuffle, talented fingers making the motions look effortless, and Erich spots the other three men sharing a concerned look as they realize that Alexis’ statement of ‘I’ve been known to play’ is actually an understatement.

She deals the cards out and sets the deck aside to pick up her hand as everyone sets a token in the pot.

Erich makes his bet — he has a better hand this time, though he suspects it’s not a winning one — and waits.

It goes much the same as last round; quick and easy bets and matches, Neumann dropping out immediately, replacement cards that don’t work for him at all, and he’s out again.

The rounds continue. He loses more than he wins because between Alexis and Serebryakov most of the luck has already been stolen, but that’s alright. The longer they play together the more relaxed the four magic lieutenants become and the easier the banter comes. It’s good in a way he hadn’t known he needed, this casual connection where people aren’t looking to him to solve all their problems.

He still bows out when Schwarz shows up, passing his much-depleted stack of tokens to Alexis and moving his chair so he can sit closer to her and give Schwarz some space. He’s never been the best — or most interested — in card games, unlike Alexis, so having someone take his place is no trouble. It’s almost a relief, in fact, because now he can sit back and just enjoy the atmosphere without having to concentrate on anything.

Degurechaff was right; already he feels more like himself instead of a tangled mess of emotions.

(A day to do what he pleased was exactly what he needed.)

(He almost feels ready to face the Reaper once more.)

(Now if only he knew what to do about the war…)

[au-tumn-al]

So after 110 hours, I finally beat Persona 5 Royal. Before going into complete FFVII mode, I wanna lay out all my thoughts.

Blah, blah, blah, spoilers for everything under the cut.

To start off, I loved Royal. The gameplay was so much fun and it felt like such a natural evolution from vanilla P5. Probably my favorite change was what wad done with Baton Pass. Trying to pass to your entire party was very fun and very satisfying, especially if Joker got the ×4 or even ×3 and got to abuse a possibly charged Hassou Tobi lategame. It was pretty broken, but I don't mind things being broken once you go to the effort of figuring things out. Speaking of broken things—

Showtime attacks are super cool. I didn't know what to think of them at first because of how stupidly strong they are, but after I got to some harder boss fights where doing about 1k damage per attack would only get rid of about a small fraction of the shadow's health, I wasn't complaining.

(Also, I never actually got to see Joker and Violet's showtime. Oops.)

The fact that the damage scaled like that was really good, especially once you get into the third semester where party members have severe and colossal damage moves and even healer Morgana can do 150 damage per basic attack without buffs on an enemy without debuffs. The enemies' damage output remained kind of sad though, but uh....you can't win 'em all ;;

To finish showtime talk, Joker and Crow's showtime was heccin' great. I never skipped it. It was Batman in my animu JRPG so it was 10/10. It also did way more damage than most of my party members' showtime attacks so ey. It finished off that Yoshitsune request boss too with around 2.4k damage so I'm obligated to like it. On that note, how is showtime damage calculated? Do certain showtimes do more damage, or does it just depend on the offensive stats of the party members using it?

Technical damage was beefed up too, and I probably should have tried to take advantage of it more than I did but I never figured out how to make technical damage reliably knock an enemy down. I know that there was a way to do it but I never figured it out. Yes, yes, I know it was because I skipped tutorials but everything else was so busted, I never felt the need to go back and read said tutorials. I did read that book about technical damage though in-game, but it just added more technical combinations.

Onto other changes though, it could have been because I was playing on hard, but status ailments became about 10 times more useful. ...Actually, no, it was definitely because I was playing on hard, but even so, I felt like more bosses were weak to them when compared to P5. They went back to being mostly immune to them, especially in the new semester, but during and before October or so, status ailments became invaluable. It could have been because I sucked that much, but my party members, and even sometimes Joker, would get left with double or even single digit HP by near everything, even if I debuffed and buffed. Queen got regulated to a forget bot, but man it carried me through some boss fights. ... i.e., Kaneshiro's fight. Well, that and Mona's confuse.

I liked the Will Seeds too. They were a fun way to kind of change up the palaces and for me to hunt down. Even though yeah, they are pretty broken (especially with the accessory you get from the 2nd palace being able to get rid of elemental weaknesses for whoever has it equipped, not to mention the ability to give charge or concentrate to another party member), I still can't say I used them over my SP adhesives most of the time. I used the one that got rid of elemental weaknesses on Crow, but that was just because I could only use him and Joker at the time and did not want enemies to get another move on him to get another chance to hit either of them.

The changes to Mementos were amazing. Like the rest of them, they were pretty busted, but still. Amazing. I feel like I'm in the minority with this, but I didn't mind Mementos. In fact, I kind of liked going through the grind of going through it. Although...tbf, I kind of liked Tartarus too. Its 264 floors were a bit much, but I liked being able to turn off my brain, put on a podcast or YouTube video in the background for me to listen to then go through Tartarus in one or two in-game nights.

Back to Mementos, collecting stamps and flowers for Jose was fun, and being able to change the cognition for Mementos was busted. Since you can get EXP from auto-killing, you get over-leveled very fast. It doesn't help that you have to backtrack floors for stamps since they randomly generate, so you get even more money, experience, and items. On the bright side though, no, I didn't need to wander around singing "I've Been Working on the Railroad" with Mona and Skull for an hour and a half trying to find the materials for the Eternal Lockpick (which was renamed in Royal to Permapick ... I guess???)

Because of the changes you can make to boost item, money, and EXP gains, Mementos became the prime grinding area. Even more than the card shuffle thing in P3. Since you got so much EXP from ramming shadows even without leveling up EXP gain. I put all my stamps into getting more items and money until I couldn't anymore and I had near max every single crafting item, and never had to worry about the cost of anything ever. Combined with the money gains from killing shadows, you can also pick up sellable treasure from the item cubes in Mementos and it can end up selling for well over a million yen. So getting to max didn't even require Joker abusing the confuse status ailment or abusing the shadows with "You can do better than that."

I didn't mind the Mementos music, even when I was playing the game without something else playing for me to listen to, but now that Mementos does have new music, yeah, I realize now how much better it is. I wouldn't listen to it alone like I would Rivers in the Desert or anything, but it was a nice change. I listened to one of the songs before the game had its western release and didn't like it all that much, but actually playing the game while hearing it made me actually like it.

I got to level 99 though before the game was over. It made it so Joker and Crow were able to tag-team the Reaper then kill it in 3 turns. I had thought that trophy would have been a lot harder to get lol. It was pretty weird seeing the Reaper in such clear lighting though due to the new Mementos area though, I have to say.

Onto the bosses though...

I loved the changes to the bosses (except the 5th one but that's just because I hate everything about the 5th palace, even if Royal did make it about a million times more bearable).

Kameshida having cognitive Shiho and Mishima as helpers for the boss fight was such a good change, and made him about that much more hateable.

Madarame's boss fight in vanilla P5 was the hardest boss in the game for me, even on normal mode, but it was made so much easier in P5R. Madarame didn't bring back his painting form, but instead brought back elemental versions of himself specifically so the player can abuse Baton Pass. Baton Pass combos are extremely satisfying to pull off, so I enjoyed it immensely. Honestly, having that as the second boss in the game was so much of a better decision than what was in P5. That, or I'm still salty about all the deaths I had from fighting him the first time.

Kaneshiro was definitely harder, and I was a little stuck when he called his cronies out to guard him. Mona and Queen using confuse and forget while Skull and Joker attacked Kaneshiro made it a lot more bearable though. I also kept using spotlights on Joker so the enemies would attack him. He had Shiki Ouji equipped and they only ever did physical moves when my status effects missed, so I was never at risk for losing the fight. ... And then of course Skull and Queen finished it off with a showtime attack after Mona got yeeted.

Sphinx mom was a lot easier. I didn't know that the right dialogue choices made it so Oracle would guard you until someone told me, so I was sitting there surprised at how much easier it was lol. I did get stuck at the end though because it didn't look like I was damaging it. I thought Oracle needed to bring back the crossbow so I just kept buffing and healing. It took about 10 minutes for me to get bored and start attacking it again and it turned out I could attack it, but it was just that sphinx mom's HP wasn't visually moving before eventually going down. Joker still used Shiki Ouji which had learned an immunity to wind so. Easy victory (ignoring the part where I'm a dumbass).

I switched to easy mode for Okumura. I just did not care at all. I hate his palace, I hate the music, and the enemies could range from being easier to kill than the enemies in the first palace to being a pain in the ass, so I wanted to have it be over. If I didn't have an unreasonable hatred for the 5th palace though, I probably would have liked the change. It was challenging without being complete BS, at least much more challenging than how it was originally in P5. Having the enemies run off though did get pretty annoying when I was trying to beat it legit but I was just so done at that point, it was more on me than the game lol.

Part of the reason why I was so eager to get through Okumura's palace though was to get to Sae's palace. Because I love Sae's palace, and just in general, the entire month of November. It has amazing story bits, still the height of P5's story if you ask me, a great palace, and Whims of Fate is one of my favorite tracks from P5's OST. Sae's boss was even changed to when she spins the wheel, whatever element it goes to, she uses that element and her resistances would change. I loved that, and it was extremely fun to take what you more or less should have learned about enemies' attacks and their correlating weaknesses and use them for a boss fight. So much better than the original where you don't need strategy at all other than "hit her hard lol."

Shido's boss fight was changed to be super climactic. They made it easier for the sake of Joker being able to confront the dude that got him a criminal record and directly ruining his life, and I can't complain. It felt amazing to 1v1 him. The game fixed the possibility of being screwed by it by having him attack in a certain order like the twins do in their special fight, so that was nice at least.

Yaldabaoth's boss fight was the same. Still easy enough, as long as you're careful. Or...not careful but extremely lucky. I wasn't able to finish it off while it was charging up its almighty attack, but my entire party ended up dodging it so it didn't even matter lmao. Now that I think about it, it very easily could have been because of that one Will Seed accessory that makes you dodge attacks but... I don't care. I was still super lucky I didn't get wiped and be forced to start the fight over starting from the Holy Grail.

The new boss... Uhm... It was taking way too long so I ended up cheesing it with Haru's third persona's new move that basically makes you invincible for a turn halfway through the fight. ^^; Noir was a Vault Guardian bot, Queen just healed and took advantage of one of the tentscles' nuclear weaknesses to Baton Pass to Crow when she could, and then Joker and Crow did all the work. Crow's third tier persona's almighty move kicked ass and you know what else kicked ass? Hassou Tobi abuse. The other 2 phases weren't even really fights, so at least that kept it from dragging too much, despite all the phases it had.

When Joker and the boss had that punch-out fight though, I lost my shit. I was laughing so hard I started to cry and my back was hurting. I don't even remember why I thought it was so funny, but I was laughing my ass off. I couldn't even press X to get Joker to punch because I was laughing so hard. Right before it happened, I joked to my sister that a tutorial would pop up and suddenly the gameplay will have the controls from that P4 fighting game and you have to learn that in order to have one last showdown. And then I got the prompt to punch. Then Joker punched. And I started laughing.

11/10 would punch Adam Kadmon man again

On the topic of the new stuff though...

Kasumi/Sumire/Violet was pretty fun to use but badly, badly overshadowed by both Joker and Crow, at least during boss fights. She offered to join the party before Shido's palace and she really should have joined then. Maybe she would just be absent for the Mementos dungeon & Yaldabaoth/Holy Grail boss fights, but she should have been there for Shido's palace. I liked her wanted gimmick of being the crit'er, but when you get her, Mona's third tier persona learns an AOE Lucky Punch, Joker already has high crit, and I would always baton pass to Crow because of his severe almighty AOE ×3. Plus, the way I built my Joker with practically exclusively two personas, Yoshitsune and Kuguya Picaro, he was already the phys and light attacker except with the addition of being able to have an auto-concentrate at the start of every fight (I have no idea why—it's something with Yoshitsune but idk what it is), the charge skill, Yoshitsune's nature of tripling the effect of charge, and the additional electric damage. She should have been a party member before the new semester. Obviously this isn't the case for everyone, but for me personally, I didn't often find use for her, especially since she can't do colossal or even severe magic damage. She is a very good physical party member, but again, Joker already covers that better than any other party member can, including Skull.

Crow was a great party member though. I used him in every request and boss fight after I got him. I was a little salty he couldn't switch back and forth from Loki and Robin Hood but I suppose if he did, he'd make Violet even more obsolete lol. I liked Loki while playing P3, so I'm glad I was able to use that persona again. He had Debilitate which was amazing. Queen learns Checkmate when getting to the third tier persona, which is an AOE version of it, but honestly, whenever I was fighting a boss that I thought needed it at that point in the game, I didn't need it to be multi-hitting. Plus, it costed about 90 SP and no way I was using that over her healing, defense buffs, and nuclear damage.

But anyway, back to Crow, I loved using him. He basically turned into my almighty damage dealer, even with his somewhat weaker magic, at least compared to his strength stat, but considering the final boss fight, it was extremely helpful. It did take up a lot of SP, but I had 5 Somas, a ton of SP restoratives, and had basically asked Kawakami to make me either curry or coffee every single night I was able to, so I pretty much had an infinite supply of it.

It helped that P5R made Akechi a much more likable character too. I liked him all right in P5, but didn't find him all that sympathetic, and thought that the characters treating him so sympathetically was extremely jarring considering all the horrible shit he did (which includes making orphans of both Haru and Futaba). That still kind of holds true, but since you can actually build a social link with him outside of the story, you can see more of his character and it improved him in leaps and bounds. Not to mention that his 8th confidant rank was....something else ^^; having a section of the new story too with just Joker and Akechi, (and kind of Sumire too, but mostly just those two) was awesome. I loved seeing them team up to punch Adam Kadmon man in the face. Plus, having more time with him in the Phantom Thieves without pretense had him going "I am surrounded by idiots" basically the whole time he was there. Like—I even felt disappointed that Akechi was actually dead and he didn't survive. That's a huge improvement over from me wishing one of the dialogue options was "fuck you lmao" during his death scene at the end of Shido's palace when he asked the Phantom Thieves to promise him to change Shido's heart.

For Sumire though, she had a good character arc. Like her gameplay though, she was badly overshadowed by both Akechi and Maruki. Even still, I liked her character arc and everything, and her social link. Even if I ended up liking Kasumi more in the end anyway rip

That's kind of all I have to say about her, oof. She was good, but other elements took attention away from her pretty badly.

Maruki though... Maruki was amazing. He was a fantastic antagonist because I got to punch him in the face, his palace was amazing, I loved the music, the different sections were cool, and I even liked the color maze bridge puzzle thing. I definitely wouldn't like it so much if I ever replayed it, especially if I try to get that final Will Seed, which wasn't hard, but did take kind of a while, but I don't think I will be so it's not a problem.

He had such good motivations, and the fact that he didn't ever actually hurt anyone other than when he punched Joker in the face made him really sympathetic and redeemable to me. At the end of the day, all he actually wanted to do was make people happy and not have to suffer, and was willing to destroy himself in order to achieve it. But just like with every belief, it went too far and he took away people's free will and ability to pick for themselves. The kind of moral question about the entire thing was very interesting, and I kind of wish it was more further addressed. There should have been Sojiro or some other character that was perfectly happy in Maruki's alternate reality so they could challenge the Phantom Thieves in a way Maruki wasn't able to. Still, what was done was really good and I liked it a lot.

...

Even all that said, I have no idea why the hell Joker could not use Satanael. There was such a perfect opportunity to use it once Maruki evolved his persona to Adam Kadmon, a giant persona. Hell, it was still small when compared to Satanael. It's after beating Yaldabaoth so Joker should have access to it. It would have been epic to be able to use a giant Satanael in a normal-ish boss fight. I'm sure there are some explanations as to why, but the game never mentions it or even acknowledges Satanael so it doesn't count and I'm still bitter. The writers forgot that Joker has a persona literally as big as a cognitive god and that kind of broke some immersion for me. Immersion completely went out the window once Joker and Maruki started punching each other but STILL. Satanael's not that great a persona, but having it show up in the story again would have been so awesome to use a persona about as big as Shibuya more than once.

Hardly comparable to my beef about Satanael, but I wish that while the party members were acting as Phantom Thieves, or at least while they're in the metaverse, the names on their text boxes would change to their Phantom Thief names. There's no reason why they didn't, especially since the characters exclusively use their Phantom Thief names to call each other anyway. It's not a huge deal or anything, but I would have liked it.

I loved Royal, and totally think it's better than P5 vanilla. Its new semester kind of takes away from the superb ending of the vanilla game, but the new stuff still makes up for it. Don't get me wrong, you can still get the original ending from the vanilla game in Royal, at least I'm pretty sure you can, but it involves you missing out on all the new content, including Violet as a party member and getting Crow back, plus Joker's showtimes so it's not worth it imo

I wasn't actually looking forward to the game when it was announced, or even planning on getting it, but I had the Phantom Thieves' edition pre-ordered for me as a Christmas present so I wasn't going to...not play it lol. I'm extremely glad I got it though, even if I otherwise wouldn't have, and now that I have finished it, I'm very happy with the game. The gameplay's improved by leaps and bounds, and the new content was all amazing.

... And I got to punch Maruki in the face.

I did end up getting the platinum trophy for Royal too, so despite the Phantom Thieves den thing, I don't see myself going back to it, at least any time soon. It was an amazing experience, but I can set my sights back to FFVII now lol.

...Although, I did hear you can fight the twins and Lavenza so uhhh maybe i won't be shelfing it so soon—

[ohmsservice]

Double Os Over Ice

Q hated Christmas.

No. Scrap that. He _loathed _Christmas.

“Fancy some punch, Sir?” R stood next to him in a Santa hat looking entirely too festive.

He didn’t want punch. Punch something maybe…

His smile was strained. Despite his feelings about the season he wasn’t about to take it out on his staff. “No thank you, R. Perhaps later,” he replied, returning his attention to his laptop.

“Oh by the way,” she said, smile encroaching those pink cheeks while she reached into the back pocket of her pants suit to hold aloft a red envelope.  “This arrived for you today.”

Q looked at the thing like it might be carrying a transmutable disease. “All scanned and checked out,” she said cheerily, thrusting it under his nose.

He took it tentatively. No one ever sent him post, let alone something resembling a Christmas card.

“Any word from 007?” she enquired innocently, sipping from her mug.

“Not a peep,” said Q, “it’s been nine bloody days. If he’s not dead already, I’ll kill him myself.”

He put the card next to his laptop when he heard the lilting voice of Eve pointing in his direction. “Aren’t you going to open it then?”

R and Q turned simultaneously. “Why, Miss Moneypenny. You look very Christmassy!”

Q rolled his eyes. “Surely M has something to say about you parading around Six wearing a tinsel scarf and…” he paused squinting at her hair. “Is that mistletoe?” Eve leaned forward to kiss R on the cheek. “Does that answer your question?” Eve said, grinning smugly. R was blushing, and grinning like a loon.

“Anyway, I just came down to deliver these,” she said, popping a bag of mince pies in R’s hand to distribute to the minion mass, “and to tell you to come to the bridge at 3pm.”

Q frowned. “Can’t. Busy.”

“Must. No argument. M’s given me carte blanche to boss you all around today.”

“Really?” R said, eyes bright and enthusiastic. “What’s the plan?”

“Just because it’s Christmas Eve…” Q grumbled.

“Precisely!” said Eve, with a brisk clap of her hands. “So hop to it, Q! No excuses. See you at 3pm!” she said with a curt tease, turning away with a twirl of her fingers in parting.

“You should just ask her out you know,” Q said quietly to R.

R sighed. “Way out of my league, Sir” she replied longingly. “Can’t wait to see what’s she’s got planned though!”

Q could. Q could wait until hell froze over. As if on cue and as though she knew he was thinking how to get out of the gathering, a message popped up on his screen.

Don’t be late Q. Remember. I’m an agent and M’s right hand.

A promise and a threat all rolled into one. Wonderful.

When 2pm rolled around, Q, who had been glancing with growing trepidation at the red envelope finally caved.

It was indeed a Christmas card, with a London postmark.

He took it out and stared. It had a photo of a kitten on the front, wearing a Santa hat looking like an anchovy wouldn’t melt in its mouth. The words “MEOWY CHRISTMAS!” printed along the bottom.

He opened it.

It turns out that Bond was capable of giving Q a headache even when not in the nearby vicinity.

“Equipment all present and accounted for. If you want it back, see you at the bridge by Six at 3pm.

Hugs and near misses, 007.”

Q calmly closed the card, feeling anything but. Oh he’d be at the bridge alright. The absolute nerve of the man…

The cold snap in London was hard and vicious enough to convince Q that climate change may be closer than even the experts thought. He wasn’t particularly fond of the cold, his thin layer of flesh doing little to protect his organs from its chilling bite. The inlet of water next to the river, because it was not especially deep, was completely frozen over. As Q and R made their way there at the designated time, Q glanced occasionally at his number one. “You know what’s going on, don’t you,” he stated. Her fake gasp told him all he needed to know.

“Really Sir! As if I’d keep secrets from you!”

“You may work with spies, R. Doesn’t mean you can lie like one,” he grumbled.

She was still beaming when they rounded the base of the bridge and Q was brought up short.

“Q!” shouted Eve, gesturing him over to where she stood amongst the Double Os who seemed to turn as one body to watch the approaching boffin. “So glad you could tear yourself away!” He squared his shoulders, determined not to buckle under the scrutiny of the intimidating bastards.

She thrust a starting pistol into his hands. “Would you mind doing the honours?” she asked, eyes twinkling. She made her way to the line of agents who’d in the intervening seconds organised themselves in a line standing on the edge of the inlet. She took position next to 004, Felicity Honour. 005 was there. And of course, 006 and 007. He just caught the end of whatever Trevelyan and Bond (the wanker) had been arguing about. As per usual.

“….you seem to forget, moy malen'kiy angliyskiy keks. I am Russian. I was born in this climate. It’s my home. You don’t stand a chance.”

“We’ll see about that won’t we, Alec? Scotland isn’t exactly known for its balmy temperatures either,” retorted Bond.

“Focus boys! Three circuits of the pond and no cutting corners!” barked Eve. She looked over at Q who was standing looking dumbly at the pistol. “When you’re ready, Q!” she called out.

R nudged him. Oh well, he shrugged inwardly. He was outnumbered anyway. May as well go with the flow. He held the gun aloft and pulled the trigger.

“And may the best agent win!” shouted R above the cheers of the small gathering of MI6 staff who had turned up.

“What exactly is it that they do win?” enquired Q, secretly hoping Bond would fall flat on his arse and embarrass himself.

“Oh,” said R airily, watching as Eve and Honour tried to trip each other up. “Just dinner this evening with a Q-Branch staffer of their choice.”

Q looked mortified. “What the—?!” he spluttered. “I never agreed to that!”

R, ever the plainspeakinug associate, didn’t hesitate. “Of course you didn’t but we all voted on it and I voted for you by proxy.” He was about to argue when R put a finger against her lips and he found himself silencing.

“Those singles amongst us have sod all of a social life as it is. Time to let our hair down. Sir. Even if it’s just for one night. And it is Christmas after all.”

Q sighed. Well, he may be a miserable bastard at this time of year, but he did promise himself he wouldn’t take it out on the minions. He turned to watch the agents on their second lap of the pond. Eve, light and graceful on her feet marginally held the lead.

He’d just have to make sure that whichever agent did take the prize, didn’t abuse the privilege.

Because it’s Christmas, and miracles do sometimes happen, Alec beat all the other agents to the punch, but Eve, the host with the most, always found a way to ease the pain of an arsekicking by a fellow agent of their prideful colleagues. The small group of panting, sweaty Double Os were standing across the pond, about 15 feet away from the group of onlookers. Alec was disagreeing with Eve about something, while pointing towards what appeared to be Q’s position. Bond was standing with his arms folded, looking smug while Eve was evidently putting Alec in his place. And it was then, when Alec raised his tone, Q and R caught onto the nature of the conversation.

“….. said any _any _Q Branch staffer, Moneypenny.”

“You’ll have to ask him yourself then,” she said primly, glancing Q’s  way to give him fair warning of what was to come. “If he’s not comfortable, don’t be a bully about it, Trevelyan.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Q mumbled under his breath. Of course, there were more than 40 staff under his care, but 006 wouldn’t settle for anything less than the top dog.

“Time nip this in the bud,” he stated firmly before moving to march across the pond towards the group.

Bond had fixed his steel blue, hawk-eyed gaze on Q while Moneypenny and 006 continued to banter. Q was halfway across before he realised that perhaps the actual centre of the pond might not be the safest place to be. After all, the agents had skated their little race around the outer edge, where the ice was considerably thicker.

And Bond, ever vigilant, was moving towards the Quartermaster before the sheet of ice beneath his feet had even begun to crack.

It wasn’t especially deep water, 8-10 feet at most. But was enough to immerse Q completely. The shock of the cold hit his system so hard that his body went into a moment of paralysis that felt like an eternity. He was only vaguely aware of the muffled splash above him and strong hands grabbing his waist to shove him upwards. Numb to the core as he was, he barely felt another pair of hands - Trevelyan’s - reach into the water to take him by his armpits and drag him up to the surface and onto the ice.

The next thing he hears is Eve barking orders about Medical and hot showers and bugger it all to hell if he hasn’t gone and lost his glasses to the murky depths. Felicity hauls him to his feet and Q finds himself anchored between the solid forms of herself and 006, shuffling him quickly across the ice back towards the looming safety of River House. R is hot on his heels, he barely feels her hand on the small of his back through his sodding wet parka and jumper but it’s there, doing what she can to reassure.

The cold feels as though it is gripping his very heart and consciousness is slipping away. The last thing he senses once they hit terra firma is the sensation of being swept into 006’s arms and hears himself mumbling in quiet protest. Good God, he thought to himself as logical thought departed from his mind, I am never going to live this down…

The cocoon of warmth in which he work up some hours later felt like heaven. The memory of the cold biting his bones fading in the cosiness of the blankets. He felt something pop into his ear and was about to bat it away when he realised it was Dr Jones, Head of Medical, taking his temperature.

_BEEP! _went the device. “All looks fine. Core body temperature back to normal,” he said with calm reassurance.

“Lost my glasses,” Q heard himself mumble. It was only a few seconds later, when he felt a gun-calloused palm against his own and the solid feel of his frames being pressed into his palm. Q slid up the pillow and put on them on, clearing the haze to reveal 006 and 007 standing on with side of the bed, watching him. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt suddenly a little too hot.

“You rescued them,” he whispered. Bond shrugged. “Eve made me. Said you’re blind without them.”

“Speaking of Eve…” Q asked, looking around. “She’s gone to yours to grab some fresh clothes,” Bond stated. “Can’t have you parading about Six in a terry robe now can we? Half the staff might get the crazy idea that it’s Christmas…”

Q allowed himself a small laugh, more relief at the warmth than anything else. “Thank you. For saving my glasses. And pulling me out of a watery grave.”

“I was just quicker of the mark,” Bond said casually, looking at Trevelyan would kept his peace during the exchange. “If Alec hadn’t been so busy arguing with Eve about winning your company for dinner this evening…”

Q - feeling suddenly emboldened by his near brush with death (OK. Maybe a tad overdramatic but still…) - heard, not without a slight sense of disbelief, the next words to tumble from his mouth.

“Well. Technically 006 did win the race,” Q said thoughtfully. “Though you did ruin a nice suit in the process of saving my sorry arse, 007.” He paused. “Ergo, logic demands that I take you both out to dinner.”

The look the agents exchanged was borderline shocked but quickly recovered. “I think we’d both like that very much, Quartermaster…”

This may in fact be the understatement of the year, but dinner, was a revelation.

Between the strength of their mutual respect - and Q would even go so far to say love - combined with the needling banter he observed throughout the evening, he was left in absolutely no doubt that these men could survive anything in the world of espionage that life could throw at them.

Bond was on his third martini and Trevelyan on his fifth vodka when they redirected their attention towards Q, who up until that point had been more than happy to watch and enjoy their playful interactions. Now he found himself once again the object of a focus that would have been flattering for anyone else, but unnerving for him.

“I think it’s time we heard a few stories from the life and times of our esteemed Quartermaster,” said Bond, leaning back in his chair and unbuttoning his jacket.

Q fingered the stem of his wine glass, which Bond recognised as a slight tick. He had observed the same treatment of his favourite mug when Q was talking to M in person or via comms.

He cleared his throat. “Oh my life experience pales in comparison I’m afraid,” he said with a smile. “Careening down the sides of mountains, jumping from planes and rescuing damsels in distress is a far cry from what I can offer.”

And with those words, Alec saw his opening and made his move.

“You underestimate yourself Quartermaster. Personally, I find you quite fascinating.”

Q chastised himself inwardly at the rising, betraying blush. “I find myself quite fulfilled with my work and my cats.”

“You know, I think he’s attempting to feign dull to try and throw us off, Alec,” Bond’s smile was blatantly sensual. “Would you like to know what we see when we look at you, Q?”

Q tilted his head in curiosity. Such a statement could only mean that he’d been under observation for some time. And so engrossed had he been in making his mark on MI6, had completely failed to notice. A Quartermaster’s mind is put together differently from that of an agent after all. He could hardly be blamed for missing the signs.

“I’m not sure—“ Q began, shifting in his seat.

Bond ignored him, Alec giving his fellow agent an encouraging nod before he continued.

“People like Alec and I? We don’t have many people whom we can trust in the world. For obvious reasons. It’s come as second nature to trust each other, having been through so much together in the field. But aside from M, there is no one within the walls of MI6 than we trust more than you.”

“When I watch you, I see isolation. A safe space you have created around yourself that no-one is allowed to invade. You fear intimacy as much as you crave it.”

“We want to share the trust we have in each other with you, Q. Let us in.”

And Q? Q was tempted. There was no denying his interest and attraction to the two men… But… he knew. Understood himself too well.

“No.” Q stood and straightened his jacket. “Thank you for a lovely evening, agents, but I think here’s where we call it a night.”

He departed. And Bond or Trevelyan didn’t try and stop him.

“Worth a shot, James,” said Alec as they both watched their retreating Quartermaster’s back.

“Never say never, Alec,” said Bond. He wouldn’t be the agent he was today if he turned away from a challenge.

And he always did so enjoy a challenge.

Three Months Later…

“Vy absolyutnyy ublyudok, Alec!”

James was back from a mission in Warsaw not twelve hours, and despite its harrowing circumstances, exhaustion and a deep, dreamless state had won him over. He’d fallen in a comatose state, alone in bed, not long after arriving at Q’s flat and woken up ten minutes ago, to find himself tied firmly to the bed frame. Not only tied by knots that he had himself taught Alec, but tied with the stockings Q had bought him for his own birthday.

Across the room, Alec had Q pinned to the wall, large hands clasping a slender waist, one leg between Q’s while he was currently subjecting Q’s collarbone and chest to a savage onslaught like that to which a lion would the rapidly diminishing carcass of a wildebeest.

Now fully awake (in more ways than one), the effects of the mission were kicking back in his mind and he was desperate for some - ANY kind of release to soothe the comedown. Bond closed his eyes against the sight of the two of them locked against each other, opening them again at the sound of Q’s breathy, shuddering moan. His head was pitched to the side, held in place now by Alec’s hand buried in his hair while he ravaged his throat.

Alec turned his head towards James then, shameless grin plastered across his face, releasing Q and giving him a moment to catch his breath. “Really James,” he tutted, “has the mission taken so much out of you you’re not even going to try?”

And that was what did it. James wrenched his wrist hard, bruising his flesh and causing a sharp rush of pain but tearing the stocking in the process. Alec moved swiftly towards the bed before James could free his other hand. He had him pinned beneath the length of his body though wasn’t going down without a fight bucking angrily against him. “Get the fuck off me, Alec,” he growled.

“Ask nicely now James,” Alec said teasingly, wrestling the exhausted agent, just as another breathless moan sounded behind them causing them both to pause in their battle for dominance. Alec rolled off Bond and both men took in the sight of Q, completely focussed on his own pleasure, one hand caressing his scalp while the other moved with a beautiful, steady rhythm against his cock. His eyes closed, head thrown carelessly back against the wall, both agents just watched for a few seconds more before Bond yanked his other hand free and rolled off the bed. In a few quick strides he was in front of Q, grabbing his occupied hand and dragging him towards the bed. Alec had made space and kept to the side while Bond, completely aroused, climbed on top of Q and with fuelled determination and purpose ground their hips together hard and fast.

Their climax was quick and dirty and beyond satisfying. Bond glanced to the side, his smug comrade, looking very pleased with himself. Bond pulled Alec into a kiss while a sated Q watched.

“Beautiful, fucking Cossak,” grumbled Bond, falling to Q’s side and pulling the boffin close against him, burying his face in his hair, content and soothed.

Missions would drain him dry, leave him cold and empty, but this.

This.

Again and again, Q and Alec pulled him from the cold, murky depths and reminded him to simply breathe.

[wrestlingisfake]

Double or Nothing preview

Been a while, hasn’t it?

Jon Moxley vs. Brodie Lee - This will be Moxley’s second defense of the AEW men’s world championship since winning the title on February 29.  Impressively, Mox is already the longest-reigning champion in AEW history, holding the title for an incredible 823 days over the past three months.

The story is fairly basic: on May 6 Lee sent his stable, the Dark Order, to dogpile Moxley before he demanded this match and walked off with the title belt.  Lee has lots of backup, but Mox is too stubborn to back down.

Brodie Lee was formerly known as Luke Harper in WWE, where he was usually a member of Bray Wyatt’s cult, the Wyatt Family.  After a 2018 biceps injury, he was used very sparingly, and requested his release in April 2019.  WWE used him even more sparingly, but finally let him go in December.  In January the Dark Order began teasing an unseen leader known as “the Exalted One,” who was finally revealed to be Lee once his WWE no-compete clause expired in March.

Lee played a cult member for almost all of his WWE run, but it seems like his  strongest impression of how cult leaders act was not Bray Wyatt but WWE chairman Vince McMahon.  Everyone at AEW seems to deny a direct parody--and for all I know it really isn’t intentional--but it’s not subtle how his on-screen behavior resembles accounts of Vince’s off-screen idiosyncrasies.  Which adds an extra wrinkle to the story, given Moxley’s very public, very blistering criticism of McMahon when he left WWE last year.

AEW has claimed this show’s card is mostly what was planned before the pandemic forced them to move from Las Vegas to a closed set in Jacksonville.  Even so, I feel like this would have been a very week title match on any of AEW’s previous pay-per-views, and it’s hard to believe they were really going to headline with this in the MGM Grand.  My gut says that under normal circumstances this match would be given away on free TV.  But these aren’t normal circumstances, so I guess you might as well do this now and save a bigger match for when fans are back.

I think there is zero chance of Lee actually winning the title, so the only question is how much Moxley will have to do to retain.

Chris Jericho & Jake Hager & Sammy Guevara & Ortiz & Santana vs. Kenny Omega & Hangman Page & Matt Hardy & Nick Jackson & Matt Jackson - This is being billed as a “stadium stampede” match.  A ring will be set up in the middle of TIAA Bank Field, the home stadium of the Jacksonville Jaguars.  I’m guessing the match will start in the ring, but the rules allow the wrestlers to fight anywhere in the stadium, so I’m not sure why it matters.  The match cannot end by count-out or disqualification, and falls count anywhere.

This feud started in October when Jericho recruited Hager, Guevara, Ortiz, and Santana to form The Inner Circle, to help him oppose The Elite (Omega, the Young Bucks, Page, and Cody Rhodes).  The two teams were set for a ten-man “war games” style cage match on March 25, but to give Nick Jackson paternity leave he was “injured” and Matt Hardy was announced as his replacement.  The match was scrapped altogether in light of the coronavirus pandemic.  On May 13, Jericho proposed issued a challenge to the Elite for this match.  Since Cody is already booked on the card, Hardy is subbing for him this time instead of Nick.

Most of the people in this match have wrestled very sparingly since AEW started running closed-set shows on March 18, although the Inner Circle has been back at full strength since May 6.  Part of the intrigue is that Page and the Bucks were off AEW television in over two months, so Jericho is suggesting that the Elite barely exists anymore.  Ring rust will almost surely be a factor, as Matt Jackson hurt his ribs doing a spot in his big return on May 20.  So even though this match features some of the best talent in the world, I could easily see it getting “bowling shoe ugly” very quickly.

It’s almost lost in the shuffle that this is Hardy’s first real big match since jumping from WWE to AEW and reviving his “Broken Matt Hardy” gimmick from Impact Wrestling.  Hardy was originally in this to support his friends, but it became personal when Jericho “killed” his beloved quadcopter drone, Vanguard 1.  It’s pretty clear AEW wants to build to a high-profile Hardy-Jericho match, but the coronavirus situation has probably screwed up their idea of when that can happen.

I’d like to see the Elite finally settle the score with the Inner Circle, but I can’t help but think this feud must continue, and putting the heels over is the easiest way to do that.  However, I suppose the babyfaces could pin someone other than Jericho or Hager without really resolving the feud.

Cody Rhodes vs. Lance Archer - This is a tournament final to determine the first person to hold the new AEW TNT championship.  Cody defeated Shawn Spears and Darby Allin to advance to this match.  Archer defeated Colt Cabana and Dustin Rhodes.  Mike Tyson will present the title belt to the winner for some reason.

TNT is the name of the channel that airs Dynamite in the US, so this is basically a modern take on the old television titles.  In the days before pay-per-view specials, wrestling TV shows were designed to build to big matches at untelevised events, with the idea that you had to pay for a ticket to see the real big shows.  In that business model, televised title bouts were somewhat rare, so a television championship would stand out for being regularly defended on TV.  There’s a lot of nostalgia for the concept, but nobody’s really come up with a good way to make it work in the modern era.  (Hell, I barely understood the point of the WCW TV title 30 years ago.)  I know AEW management feels strongly about avoiding the stigma of a “midcard title,” so I’m curious to see what they come up with here.

Archer has been built up very well as the biggest and most monstrous of the big monster heels.  He really needs to win his first big PPV match in the company to maintain his momentum.  But at the same time, Archer’s manager Jake Roberts has been a huge dirtbag to Cody’s wife Brandi, so that really needs to be avenged.  It’s really impressive how AEW can build these matches up with really simple things that defy one’s “this guy has to win” logic, which makes the match more exciting.  My money’s on Archer, but I have to root for Cody.

Nyla Rose vs. Hikaru Shida - Rose is making her second defense of the AEW women’s world championship.  Shida earned this title shot by winning a four-way match on May 13.

This match feels a little cold to me, probably because both women were absent from TV for about a month.  AEW’s women’s division has always struggled to be relevant but it’s been hit particularly hard by the pandemic.  Between travel bans and wrestlers electing to stay home, a huge chunk of the roster has been unavailable.  Nevertheless, Rose still comes across as a big dominant juggernaut, and Shida still feels like the babyface they’ve been saving for a special occasion, so it’s like everything worked out in the end.

Shida makes sense as the next women’s champion, but it feels too early.  Even though Nyla has held the title since February, her absence in April makes it feel like she hasn’t had enough time to really make it her own.  I have to pick Rose to retain.

Casino Ladder Match - This is a nine-man match, where the winner will earn the right to challenge the AEW men’s world champion.  Like any ladder match, an objective (a casino chip in this case) will be suspended above the ring, and ladders will be provided for the participants to use and climb; the first man to retrieve the objective wins the match.  However, participants will enter the match gauntlet style, with two men starting and an additional man entering every 90 seconds.  In theory, the match could end before everyone has entered, but I doubt it’ll come to that.

The plan a year ago was to make the “casino battle royale” an annual tradition at Double or Nothing, but I’m guessing that wasn’t feasible this year.  Social distancing guidelines and battle royales (battles royale?) don’t go well together.  Then again, neither do nine-person ladder matches, although it’s possible the gauntlet stip will help limit the action to two or three people in the ring at any given time.

Eight participants have been announced: Orange Cassidy, Colt Cabana, Darby Allin, Scorpio Sky, Frankie Kazarian, Kip Sabian, Luchasaurus, and (as a late substitution for Rey Fenix) Joey Janela.  It looks like the ninth entrant won’t be revealed before the show, which is actually kind of exciting considering how many hot free agents are available at the moment.  I’m not saying it will be one of the people WWE recently released, but it makes at least as much sense as using Billy Gunn or something.

I don’t have a strong sense of who should win, because the winner is probably just going to lose to Jon Moxley on a free TV match.  I guess the question is, who would be the best opponent for Moxley in that situation?  I’m leaning towards Darby Allin, but not much.  If the mystery entrant is any good, though, that could change everything.

MJF vs. Jungle Boy - There’s not much of a story here.  MJF was riding high after a big win over Cody Rhodes on February 29, but then he was out for about a month, presumably due to the pandemic.  He claimed he was sidelined by a devastating hangnail, but I don’t know if I buy that.  Upon his return, he was told he’d be facing Jungle Boy here, and he wasn’t happy.  Since then, they’ve been kinda teasing Jungle Boy’s buddy Luchasaurus against MJF’s henchman Wardlow, so we’ll probably get more teases for that.

Listen, I’m not saying Jungle Boy is going to target the pinkie finger that had the hangnail.  I’m definitely not saying Jungle Boy is going to bite MJF’s finger, or that MJF will sell it like he’s been shot.  I’m just saying that would be a really good idea that would be worth the full price of the pay-per-view.

But I have a feeling MJF will win anyhow.

Kris Statlander vs. Penelope Ford - This was originally going to be Statlander against Britt Baker, but Baker suffered a knee injury on May 20.  I’m becoming a big Baker fan (I mean, boo, she’s mean, but y’know), so it sucks that she’s sidelined.  But it’s kinda cool that Ford gets to step up here.  She seems talented, but she hasn’t been pushed too hard except as Kip Sabian’s girl.  Then again, I like Statlander’s alien hijinx too.  Can I just bet that all the wrestlers will have a good time?

Shawn Spears vs. Dustin Rhodes - The entire heel gimmick for Spears is that he hates Cody Rhodes, which isn’t so great since he only fights Cody once every few months.  Anyway, he got eliminated in the TNT title tournament by Cody, and since then he’s been giving Dustin shit.  When Dustin was eliminated from the tournament in a bloody match with Lance Archer, Cody teased throwing in the towel but didn’t.  So Spears is trying to make big deal about Cody not rescuing Dustin, and Dustin being a washed-up has-been.  I’m pretty sure Dustin is just going to beat his ass and that’ll be it.

Chuckie T & Trent Beretta vs. Isiah Kassidy & Marq Quen - This is scheduled for the pre-show.  The winning team will earn a shot at the AEW tag team championship.  So I guess that means Kenny Omega and Hangman Page have to do the title match soon, which suggests Page can’t immediately go back to hiding in the woods.  Maybe?  I mean, good for Hangman staying at home.  I’m just saying I don’t have a clue what’s going on in the tag team division.  Anyway, Kassidy and Quen are cool and they’ll be big someday, but it’s pretty clear that AEW thinks “someday” is ways off.  The Best Friends are the clear favorite to win, although an upset isn’t totally impossible.