#library punk show

[multimikedc]

Pit during the Teen Mortgage set at a DC library show.

[briannacarmel]

Okay. Time for a new pinned post.

My name is Brianna Carmel. I'm a 25-year-old musician (mainly a vocalist) and DIY show promoter from Sacramento, CA.

My main project is a sadcore indie pop band called @bloomingheads, consisting of myself and my dear friend Josiah. We have been active since late 2018, and released our debut EP in January 2021.

Our biggest achievement so far is probably opening for Crywank on their first US tour, at The Starlet Room in Sacramento.

My personal favorite show we've played that there is footage of, is the going away house show we played for our dear friend Autumn (Otto) Sky Hall, who moved to Pennsylvania near the end of last year. This is me gushing about how much I love them as a segue into the first song we ever wrote.

Our next show is on January 29th at Cafe Colonial, opening for King Strang, with our friend Ash Bricky as another local opener. You can buy presale tix here.

I also recently joined Josiah's main project, a chiptune folk punk band called Little Tiny Knife (formerly known as Wayne Jetski). There's technically three of us, but our bassist Jim is currently away doing Real Adult Things™️. He's a cool dude tho, we share a birthday.

Here are screenshots from a video @xahferd took for us, during our most recent show at The Hatch in Stockton, CA.

I can't quite put into words how much finally joining this project means to me. Like, I have a fucking Wayne Jetski tattoo. Josiah's music is the reason we know each other, I've genuinely loved it for years and it's the reason I asked them to start Blooming Heads with me. I've never earned a spot in a band I love before. It's truly an indescribable feeling.

Here's a video of us playing with Jim during a Halloween show last year. This song is called "Long Division." Josiah was a target employee, Jim was bananarchy, and I was... A spooky doll girl...??? Idk okay I was just vibing with makeup

I'm also a solo artist when I'm not busy with anything else--I like to call myself a singer-songwriter with a folk punk soul. I've been writing on my own for fun since 2014 or so.

Here's a live session I did at Warm Robot Studios, inside The Library of Musiclandria, to promote my single that I released in September, "Skeletons."

My most recent release, "Building Blocks EP," was released on Bandcamp Friday in November. There's only proper live video of the first track, "Alone Again." (Shout-out to High House!!)

The EP is made up of three tracks, and can be found on spotify, bandcamp, and many other streaming services.

And, last but not least, yes, like I mentioned at the beginning of this post, I am a DIY show promoter. If you've ever been to a show in the Sacramento-area with "916 Growth Gigs presents" on the flyer, that was me. My main venue connects include The Colonial Complex (Cafe Colonial/The Colony Sacramento), The Library of Musiclandria, Golden Bear (21+), and the occasional house show or acoustic show at a park. I am on a hiatus of sorts for the moment, but plan on dipping my toes back in soon.

If you're a fellow DIY musician, especially if you're touring thru Sacramento, let's be mutuals! Even if I can't book you, I love making new friends. 🥰

[august--and-everything-after]

Where do you guys go to meet people?

[dandelionjack]

it’s that time of night again lads

[emeritusterzo]

using the death of collision as a justification to spend my money unwisely in collecting old wrestling tapes and dvd’s

[em-b-sides]

Need a girl that's just kind of a weird little freak

[overexciteddragon]

Punk is whatever the state fucking hates so I'm sorry to announce to the functionally conservative but contemporary punk isn't leather jackets and punk rock from the 2000s, it's hyperfemininity, it's transsexualism, it's kinky leather harnesses, it's polyamory, it's Black female rappers, it's reading books from the library, it's pirating media, it's sharing your Netflix and Prime and Spotify passwords, it's patching up your thrifted clothes with cute embroidery until they're in tatters, it's "borrowing" groceries from corporations that make up inflation that doesn't exist, it's supporting small weird freaky artists on Etsy instead of buying the newest Official™️ boring low effort promotional image enamel pins, it's drawing and writing the raunchiest most disgusting and freaky porn you could possibly fathom, it's showing off your tits or top surgery scars in public, it's cis women packing and cis men tucking, it's dykefags and fagdykes and boylesbians and girlgays, it's paying for OnlyFans of trans people fisting themselves, it's making up new genders and sexualities and romantic orientations and editing whole new flags for them, it's refusing to label yourself for the gratification of a government that wants to know under what misspelled drafty legislation they should legally kill you

Punk is being/supporting whatever the state currently fucking despises and wants to burn off the face of the earth, not whatever you think is Punk Aesthetic. If you wanna be punk just to look like you were born in the 80s instead of actually BEING PUNK by supporting the degenerates and the freaks and the sex workers and the BIPOC and the transsexuals and the faggots and the dykes, burn your fucking $800 corp bought leather jacket because you're not Hobie Brown you're just a fucking poser.

Punk is fighting the system beside the ones the system is fighting against, Punk isn't a Pinterest moodboard.

[solarpunkbiologist]

Ways to Solarpunk-up your neighborhood

The "punk" part of solarpunk is, of course, defying societal norms and governmental laws in the name of building a better future.

Isee a lot of great things happening, such as community gardens, climate protests and more and more people going vegetarian/vegan etc. I took a walk around my neighborhood yesterday to find things that I like about my town. I love to see people planting fruit trees in their garden. I love the little shops in their driveway/front yard with their harvested crops, homemade jam, fruit juice etc.

Public art

I love this artist, who, every few weeks, puts up a new string art piece. It's weird and I doubt the local government likes it. I'm friends with the artist's neighbor, and she says that they want to "decorate the town with art". That's a pretty punk statement that I definitely can get behind. It certainly is fun to see what the artist has come up with every time I walk past.

Mini libraries

Mini libraries can be found in every neighborhood. People place them in their front yard. This one has a little bench with it too. I love it so much. Access to free books, all day, everyday, almost everywhere. Tell me that isn't such a solarpunk initiative. They've sprouted up the last decade like weeds and I couldn't be happier.

Give & take cabinet

What's a better way to show your community you care about them than a give & take cabinet. Clothes, shoes dishes, menstrual items, shampoo and more. I'm planning on tidying up this cabinet soon and adding some stuff of my own. As someone who is pretty tight on money myself, I'm very happy to see a way I can get stuff I need if I'm in a pitch.

If you want you can give it a twist, you could consider making a tools library or a food cabinet as well.

Let's take care of each other and take care of our planet! We can build a kinder, better future if we tried. Love and Peace��☮🌍

[heatherholes]

i get that the lack of individuality is the appeal of bimbofication for many. but what i like to see, personally, is all the wonderful different types of girls learning their place. their unique personalities kept but warped. the most obvi example is the nerdy weeb girl who loves hentai and ahegao and slutty cosplay, the desk pet gamer girls. unlike some less interesting misogynists, i don’t think they’re faking their interests for male attention. they just don’t know how to express themselves any other way and that’s super hot!

i wanna see it everywhere. the horror fanatic watching shlocky b-movie rape scenes like they’re porn. the girl who loves cars getting bent over the hood. the ren faire attendant dressed as a tavern wench. the tabletop gamers and larpers doing mediaeval fantasy, getting treated medievally. the skater chick who laughs loudest when a girl face-plants, the metalhead demanding you name five albums. the goth who draws a pentagram on the floor and kneels naked, thinks of her punishment for eve eating the apple and whispers ‘hail satan.’

barstool type girls are a favourite of mine. you know, they watch football, eat wings, are all too happy to go to strip clubs and participate in the locker room talk. who proudly proclaim that they’re not like other girls, they’re one of the guys because they put on a sports jersey, while still looking every bit the bleach blonde fucktoy. still pretending she doesn’t know how to shoot pool so he can show her.

and the gym bunnies with an intense discipline and determination; are strong physically and mentally. what motivates their commitment to self improvement? looking good for men, of course! she’ll work herself to the bone keeping toned for you and won’t whine for help hauling the groceries. let her tell herself it’s because you respect her strength if it makes your life easier.

similar are the boss babes, hyper productive and entrepreneurial. proud to have her own money, apartment, car, small business. she’s a big believer in splitting the bill on dates. why? she heard men don’t like gold diggers. she doesn’t want him to think she’s putting out cause she gets something out it. she’s not doing it for anything but him. whether or not she expands her “online brand” as a pornfluencer into onlyfans will depend entirely on him. he okays it, but only for a split of the money? wow, now she’s the provider. how empowering!

that’s to say nothing of the actual girl bosses. the salaried power player at a fortune 500 company. what does she do there? discourage employees under her from going to HR, cut funding for the women in business initiative and giggle at sexist jokes to show she’s a team player, mostly. she has the economic freedom to do anything, a career she fought tooth and nail for, a spot in the c-suite someday. she’s a winner, not a trophy. she’ll give it all away once a man further up the ladder knocks her up.

well, what about the marxist punk yelling no gods, no masters? no way she’s gonna submit to a man. no, but she’s gonna suck dick for the communal spirit and promote collective ownership of her holes.

the shy girl into art and literature? her love of culture gives her unique insight into the history of male supremacy. everywhere she sees herself through the eyes of men. not just any men, creative geniuses. in the museum she looks at the ancient vases that use the same iconography to depict marriage as rape. from the nude statue of a goddess to the painting of a peasant girl — both are objects, never the subject. in the library she reads the taming of the shrew and thinks, who am i to argue with shakespeare? quietly, she lets her dreams of being an artist die and resigns herself to the life of the muse.

tldr: cater to the male gaze and serve patriarchy but most importantly be yourself

[aithusarosekiller]

Why do people act like smart Barty and cool Barty have to be one or the other

Can he not be both?

Are you not allowed to be alt and clever?

Do my hair dye, sense of style, and facial piercings cancel out my A* grades? Nobody warned me of this

Give me barty who sits for hours on end with Dorcas making his own punk clothes and shouting about hating the ministry then showing up to class with his green streaks of hair and gauged ears and getting 99% on everything without listening to a word of what was said

Give me the barty everyone is intimidated by in the corridors just sitting silently in the library chewing his quill and researching a brand new incantation

Counter-culture doesn't mean stupid 🙏

He's me and I am him

[trashymouthgremlin]

Miles hearing some of Hobie's music and being super excited. They exchange music sometimes, and Hobie really likes stuff like Start a Riot by Duckwrth and Shaboozey, and a few other songs from the first movie, and Miles really gets into the British punk songs Hobie shows him.

They start expanding their music library to share more songs with each other every time they catch up. The figure out a shared Spotify type playlist across dimensions.

[the-kr8tor]

hey i was wondering if you could write a fic about the reader teaching Hobie how to roller skate?? It’s so oddly specific but i can imagine him just struggling with it and it’s funny to me. Plus my dream date is to teach someone how to roller skate 😭. Thank you so much. Also please remember to take breaks and rest. I lysm and appreciate all the effort you put into ever story ❤️

What a cute prompt! Thank you for requesting!! And I will!! You're too sweet ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.2 k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (except for a mention of Hobie being tall and brief mention of clothes), cw food mention, set in Hobie's 70s dimension, FLUFF

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Being a part of the spider society has numerous Perks— Free therapy if you're willing to wait months for a single appointment. The cafeteria providing three meals a day to starving spider people from all walks of life, (and dimensions) not to mention the unmatched camaraderie with your fellow spiders. That alone makes all the jet lag from traveling through dozens of multiverses, and all the aches and pains that comes with being bitten by a radioactive spider. But, there is one thing that trumps all of those perks, and that's hopping to your partner's dimension for a not-so-quick date at the roller rink.

Hobie didn't take much convincing, especially after showing him your timeline appropriate outfit to him. His dimension is practically stuck in the 70s, filled with groovy psychedelic colours from the top to bottom. And of course there's the leather jackets that you've grown accustomed to just by being with Hobie. Hell, you especially love those leather pieces like the one you're wearing now. You went all out with your outfit, researching the trends back then with a splash of punk looks that had Hobie almost melting the second you stepped out of the portal. You fit in, to say the least. But after all the research and countless hours in the library just scouring for history books and life in the 70s, they don't compare actually being there and seeing it with your own eyes.

A glorious disco ball hangs in the ceiling, twinkling lights dancing around the funky, swirly and fluffy walls of the roller rink. Everywhere you look there's a burst of colours, and there's no lack of laughter ringing above iconic disco music you've heard before.

Smiling, you sit on a bench, eyes turned upwards at the sparkling lights twirling around the whole place. Hobie kneels before you, insisting to tie your rollerblades for you, citing that if it's not done well you could fall over and smash your face on the polished granite. You of course don't refuse, loving how much he dotes on you when there's no mission to rush to or a certain Spiderman breathing down his neck.

Patting your foot, Hobie calls your name above the blaring music. “How's the weather up there, lovie?”

You tilt your head, chin tucked on your clavicle, admiring how handsome he looks under disco lights with his piercings and eyes shining. “How long have you been waiting to say that to someone, huh, tall guy?”

He takes your unlaced rollerblade, pushing it in your socked foot and then propping it up on his knee. He's smiling all through it, happy to indulge you even for a quick moment without anyone to kick or web up. “Believe it or not, I've said it a few times.”

You fake a gasp, and he chuckles at your antics while he ties a ribbon. “Someone is taller than you?! I thought that was impossible!”

“You're impossible.” Hobie's hand remains on your ankle, hand rising up to cup your knee, thumb drawing circles around your tights. Leaning up, he holds your hip with his free hand, pushing you down gently to meet him halfway; which you gladly let him guide you.

Beaming, you peck his nose and the space between his brows. Earning a soft chuckle from him. “Says the one kneeling before me.”

“Which makes my comment correct.” He follows suit, kissing where your Cupid's bow lies before standing up shakily on his rollerblades. (That he hides with his nonchalance.) “C’mon, let's get this over with before I change my mind.”

Taking his helping hand, you pull yourself up, effortlessly standing on the wheels. “It's not too bad, I promise. Even little kids get it right after a few tries.”

He raises a pierced brow. “Those little kids aren't as tall as me and don't have a reputation to keep.”

You poke his side, “I've seen you backflip off of Rhino's head. Roller skates are nothing compared to that. Besides, no one you know is here to see you fall flat on your ass.”

“You won't film it like last time we went ice skatin’?” He can't help but ogle you under the light and amidst the bright colours.

Leading him towards the rink, you hold his hand, slowly inching your way inside. “I promise I won't take videos this time.” He huffs in reply as you guide him to the shiny floors. “It was for personal use anyway.” You mumble to yourself.

Hobie immediately holds onto the railings next to him the second his feet leaves the carpeted floors and onto granite. His knees are bent and shaking while he tries to keep his balance on the wheels. “Love, why'd you let go?!”

Giggling, you reach for him with open arms, rolling towards him. “I didn't! You did!”

Panic spreads through him unlike all the times he has fought countless villains as his rollerblades smack loudly on the floors as his feet skidaddles in place, struggling to even stand up. After reaching for you, your six foot three baby holds onto you like a life raft. Long arms grasping with none of the cool nonchalance he usually exhibits.

“Do you want me to get a training cart for you—?”

“No, I've got this.” Hobie straightens up, hand holding on to your jean pocket as if he wasn't whining a few seconds ago.

“Oh okay—”

“Don't let me go this time.”

“I won't, Hobs. Maybe try moving your legs?” Smiling, you roll around the rink as he uses you as his personal guide while he barely moves his stiff legs.

His eyes roam around the rink where people of all ages whizz past him without a care. He looks over to you with a new found determination. If those children who are barely five years old can skate like they own the place, he too can do it. “What do I do now?”

You don't laugh or giggle at him, instead, you help and support him throughout the lesson like you promised him when you suggested the date. Hobie picked up on the skill real quick, quicker than he did for ice skating. Maybe the music helped him, or maybe he really wanted to impress you this time instead of the ‘baby deer learning how to walk’ he exhibited earlier.

After a while he's already skating around you. A bit wobbly but his form makes up for it. Hobie thanks his spider senses and balance for not stumbling and crashing into another person.

You're all tired out after the exercise. Head placed on his shoulder, arms looped around his middle as he's the one guiding you this time while you two skate mindlessly on the shiny floors as the skating rink dies down for the night. He blows air in your ear, waking you up.

“Thank you.” Hobie affectionately pecks your brow, you hum in content. “You've got some patience in you, love.”

“Nope, you're just a fast learner. And you're welcome, thank you for indulging me.”

“You chose well.” His eyes smile, hand splayed over the small of your back. “Next time it's my turn to pick the place.”

“What do you have in mind?” Tilting away, your hand snakes up from his back to his nape, kneading softly.

“It's a secret, innit. For now,” he skids to a stop, hand still holding on to you. “you need to see some food that your dimension hasn't seen in decades.”

Your eyes widens, gasping. “So much food that shouldn't be in jell-o.” You're already unlacing your rollerblades.

[briannacarmel]

I played the Sacramento Songwriter Circle Showcase this month. I even played a @bloomingheads song.

Here's a lil highlight reel, and a promo for the next BHeads show (Cafe Colonial on Jan 29th, opening for King Strang).

Shout-out to SSC and @luhansihadin for having me, and to Musiclandria for providing a space for musicians! 🥰

[jolapeno]

ello ello ✨

what's this? well, my good friends, jo has moved to a MAIN BLOG. i've been putting this off for ages, but i finally decided (as i have drabbles, gifs and some love back for this place) i wanted to make the lunge. so. I CAN NOW FOLLOW YOU AND BE MOOTS, SEND ASKS AND LOVE ON YOU AS MEEEE.

now, admin wise:

-> fakejolapeno will be deactivated in a few days -> old jalapeno is now @jolalibrary

this will remain as an archive for my old work, repost for a little of announcements as people realise i've moved AND the main thing is my new library for fic recs so you lovely lot can still find awesomeness

i feel so happy, everyone. i feel like this is what i needed! love you

i am afraid of losing my beloved, so i'll tag some of you below to spread the word, show you my awesomeness. but, if i miss anyone i am so sorry i can only tag so many.

@goodwithcheese @luxurychristmaspudding @secretelephanttattoo @moonlitbirdie @javierpena-inatacvest

@kedsandtubesocks @wordywarriorwrites @missredherring @saradika @perotovar

@maggiemayhemnj @yopossum @fuckyeahdindjarin @myownwholewildworld @amanitacowboy

@imaswellkid @intheorangebedroom @quinnnfabrgay-writes @copperhalfcent @thundermartini

@toomanytookas @msjarvis @agentmarcuspike @prolix-yuy @laughing-in-th3-purple-rain

@morallyinept @ozarkthedog @iamasaddie @schnarfer @iknowisoundcrazy

@thelightandtheroses @thetriumphantpanda @hellishjoel @sizzlingcloudmentality @guiltyasdave

@littlemisspascal @pedgito @pedrorascal @auteurdelabre @punkshort

@oonajaeadira @mrsmando @pedropeach @covetyou @flightlessangelwings

@toxicanonymity @absurdthirst @javier-pena @sawymredfox @wannab-urs

@whocaresstillthelouvre @mothandpidgeon @julesonrecord @angiewatson @vie-is-punk

@iamskyereads @pedrit0-pascalit0 @chronically-ghosted @survivingandenduring

@harriedandharassed @whatsnewalycat @purplerain04 @yxtkiwiyxt @sin-djarin

[captainmera]

Any HC’s on how abomination magic specifically works?

I DO ACTUALLY - OH MY GODS, I DO ACTUALLY!

Because it's clearly different than plant magic! It's not earth magic, even though it's some sort of... soil. Of sort. And Amity says she had missed it when she returned to the demon-realm.

So WHAT IS IT?

Now, I think a big point of what could-have-been season 3, is that MAYHAPS Amity would be much less helpful in magic. Giving Willow space to be "the strong/powerful one" and thus their friendship could have a continued arc.

But it's just one of those big question marks of; Is that intentionally something that only exist in the demon realm? If so, what point to the story does that serve? And if not - what difference is it to plant/earth magic at all?

I genuinely can't answer that.

Anyhow, let's identify what it is that could make it different from plant magic.

My headcanon, based on the little I can scrape together from the show's world building and plot direction.

I deduce that abomination is very specifically made out of grime and slime, like, the sort of thing you'd scrape away to make something clean again. Dust, muck, flakes, waste, dead skin, carcass, slags, mould, rot... Things that would make you feel Oh yeah, that's very boiling isles-esque.

So, dead and gross things.

Plant magic is making things grow, turns and moves the earth, terraforms.

And abomination is kind of an opposite.

To me, this makes sense. Since Darius is on the good-guys' side, and Terra is on the bad-guys' side. Putting these two seemingly similar but actual opposites against one another makes thematic sense.

it also makes aesthetic sense, since we see in season 3 that the TOH-Crew make the aesthetic choice to give Luz a typical villain aesthetic and the collector the typical hero aesthetic (pastels, round stars, childish happiness, etc).

Willow vs Amity would have been a cool fight to see, or, if not a fight. At the very least see Amity try to calm Willow's growing emotional storm (ah, pun!) Which they were rounding up for Willow in season 3.

This is a side-track, but all that they put in episode 2 of season 3, I feel were things they always wanted to give resolution to. I know a lot of fans are ???? about boscha and kikimora getting a lot of attention, but specifically Boscha - with Amity, and Willow. I get the sense that they had much more in store for the hex girls friendship than what we got. But alas. They sho-horned what they wanted in there and maybe forgot that the audience doesnt have the knowledge of intent as the crew does. So it comes off as a bit "why did this get attention instead of X thing?"

Okay anyway back to biz.

The fashion direction and aesthetic of the Demon-Realm is, to me, like if you took a fantasy renaissance fair and slapped cheap halloween decor on it. Jester hat? Glue some fussy spiders on it with fangs. A colourful vest? It has batwings and eyeballs for buttons.

This is important, actually!

Alador has abomination magic, and Amity's dad, he is aesthetically designed to look very much like a stereotypical it's aliiiiveeee crazy scientist. But with the mellowness of a tired workaholic dad.

Amity's mother has oracle magic.

Together they make evil steam punk science. In a show that canonically built it's catalystic event on a brother murdering his brother and is haunted by his ghost, while trying to ressurect copies of him that he also murders.....

You cannot look me in the eyes and tell me that the protagonists love interest's magical ability has no visual direction that connects the two. And I will tell you why I'm right.

Visually we are guided to connect Amity's parents. Look at their factory, at aladors lab, look at how it's pleading us to look at their manor as a typical gothic horror. (mind you, their home is also one of the few buildings that doesnt have eye-motifs on it, and instead has a star/moon symbols. The only other place I can think of that does is the library and the collector disc & Titan tower.)

Amity doesn't use abomination magic in the human realm. Not even in the fight against Belos. There's... something purple, for sure, a kind of smokey bomb-attack thing. But no abomination.

Amity has used other non-abomination purple magic before too, when she caged Luz at the knee to keep her safe. A cage, much similar to what Odalia can do.

Which means that PERHAPS Amity knows, and can, use oracle magic.

If we are to take Amity's comment on Camila saying "you were really holding back in the human realm, huh?", Amity says "maybe a little"

And she calls it slime.

So perhaps it is something that also exist in the human realm too? But she didn't use it in battle. Or maybe this comment is to referr to that she had to hold back on her preferred magic style, because there wasnt much of this *particular type* of slime.

Meaning she'd be forced to use oracle magic? And maybe have an arc where she reclaims that magic. It would also be more useful to the gang, since they would be going through a story-line of uncovering Belos' past in Gravesfield's history.

Her mixing both oracle and abomination magic, I feel, would also bring forth more purpose to the episode where a basilisk invaded the school.

The whole purpose of the episode was to show that you should be allowed to have more than one preferred magic - but NONE of the main hex-squads ever dabble in that. Making the episode somewhat purposeless - but if Amity gets to reclaim oracle magic as her own.. I feel like this would tie into the thematics of GOLEMS.

Abominations already are designed to look like golems. But the real life folklore dabbles in re-animating clay with LIFE. Much like a zombie, or what have you. Grimwalker, anybody? no? Just me? Very well.

I feel that would have been a perfect story segway to put pressure on Hunter and Luz hiding that Hunter is a grimwalker. The more they find out about Philip, the closer the pieces would be put together. Drrrraamaa~!

I have a feeling Amity and Gus would become closer, as illusion magic would be very useful to them all as well, moving amongst humans. Perhaps this would play into Willow's insecurities that we see her having in season 3.

Which, also, by Amity and Gus becoming closer (Amity being closest to Luz, Gus with Hunter) this would also put pressure on their secret. And the two of them would have insight, being the twos confidants. Leaving Willow, again, a little to the wayside - giving more fuel to her arc of trying to overcompensate with being the strong friend, as she slowly disconnects a bit with the group and her emotional turmoil grows.

ANYWAY.

I think abomination is meant to be something that Amity would combine with oracle magic. Something that would be fundamentally different than if you combined oracle with plant magic.

Perhaps there are more layers to Belos wanting the magics to be apart. Clearly, mixing magic doesn't only make a witch stronger, perhaps their creativity is the only limit to what a witch could do.

What if you oracle a ghost into a clay figure? What if the human version of abomination is hardened mud (clay), or metals like steel (coal and iron), what then? DUNNO. Sky's the limit. Write a fanfic.

That's my headcanons and thoughts on abomination magic, anyway.

[melon-fodder]

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: college setting, fem-bodied reader, mentions of a toxic ex, stalking, reader is Matsumoto’s stepsister, shorter reader, clothing described, first meetings, cunnilingus, reader is in a vulnerable place okay, we aren’t judging, dirty talk, reader’s pussy described as “pretty”, “sweet”, “chubby”, Hiragi’s POV

Note: this will either be a fun standalone or part of a bigger project. It depends on the flow as I keep writing more. For now, I hope you enjoy this intro~

Is this Hiragi? I’m Yodai’s sister. He said I could call you if I need help on campus.

Hiragi reads the text message a couple times, wondering if this is an introduction or a cry for help, but before he can ask, three dots show up beneath the first message.

I think my ex is stalking me.

Well, that answers that. Straight and to the point.

Getting up from his seat, Hiragi grunts to his curious friends, “somethin’ came up,” then strides out of the café and to his bike.

Yeah it’s me. Library right?

He doesn’t wait for a reply, just shoves his helmet over his head before pulling out of his parking space. The university campus is only a few minutes away, but that’s more than enough time for some creep to climb the steps and corner someone in a dark alcove—specifically his good friend’s sister.

There are only a few cars in the lot, late night studiers or maybe profs trying to get shit ready for tomorrow. It’s a little past nine, and most of the lights of the main building are turned off.

Yeah, how’d you know?

Your bro told me you work there. Omw up now.

He takes the concrete stairs two at a time, easy considering how long his legs are, all the while scanning his surroundings. There isn’t anyone lurking in the shadows that he can see, but who knows who might be sitting in one of the cars outside?

The glass doors aren’t locked even though they probably should be, so Hiragi is able to walk right in, scanning each sign—lab, tutoring—until he reads ‘Library’ and follows the arrow pointing down the corridor.

It’s dim inside, the only light source coming from the lamps that hang over the checkout counter, and underneath, bathed in their soft glow, is a single figure.

Hiragi clears his throat, and you nearly fall out of your chair, “Jesus—” eyes wide with panic when you spot him.

“Just me,” he assures. Like that’ll do anything. It’s not as if the two of you have ever met before. You only know of each other because of Matsumoto.

Your voice is a little shaky as you take in a few deep breaths and question, “Hiragi?”

He nods, moving slowly toward the counter so that he doesn’t scare you even more, knows he doesn’t exactly look welcoming in his leather jacket and ripped pants, not to mention the fading bruise on his cheekbone.

He’s surprised at the fact that you don’t look any more inviting than he does. From what Hiragi can see, you’re dressed in a dark t-shirt partially covered by a rolled up flannel, and your hair is tied into two messy buns. Your lips look bright but raw, like you’ve been chewing on them, and there’s smudged makeup around your puffy eyes.

Stop staring.

You don’t look like you should be working in the college library; you look like you should be making drinks in a dive bar or at some no-name punk show. You look like the type of girl Hiragi might try to impress.

Not that it matters. He’s here for one thing: keep you safe as a favor to your brother.

“Thanks for coming,” you finally sigh, sliding out of your chair and bending down to grab your bag from under the counter. “I know this must seem so lame, but I swear I’ve seen Yuki’s car pass by, like, six times.”

“Not lame,” Hiragi tries. “Dude sounds like a creep from what Matsumoto’s told me.”

“Creep doesn’t even do it justice,” you mumble, slinging the old backpack over your shoulder then reaching to turn off the row of hanging lights. “Fucking psycho is more accurate.”

Yukinari Arima—Hiragi was already a little familiar with the guy just because of previous scuffles. When he heard his friend’s sister was dating him, he was a little caught off guard. Matsumoto has been the fun-loving type for as long as Hiragi’s known him, but letting his sister hook up with someone like Arima? Definitely not in his character.

“I’ve tried to get her to break up with him, but all she does is call me a hypocrite and shut me out.”

“She came home cryin’ again today. Wonder what that fuck-ass did this time.”

“If he ever lays a hand on her, I swear to God I’ll kill him.”

Hiragi gets it. He understands being protective over the people he cares most about.

And when you round the corner in your scuffed up Converse, tighter-than-hell leggings, and smile up at him— “seriously, I really appreciate this, Hiragi,” —he can easily see how you bring out that big brother instinct in his friend.

“Not a problem,” Hiragi shrugs. You lock the doors from the inside with an Allen wrench, and he tries not to not to admire the shape of your ass as you walk around. He usually doesn’t notice things like that when first meeting a girl, but the subtle sound of your leggings swishing with every step draws his attention without his permission.

Fuck’s sake, dude. She’s Matsumoto’s sister. Don’t be an idiot.

“I owed him a favor anyway,” Hiragi adds. You peer at him suspiciously while you both make your way out of the building.

“And, I’m that favor?”

Your eyes are still a little red from what must have been your crying earlier, but they still twinkle with something a little playful.

Trouble.

“Guess you could say that.”

You laugh quietly, but it dies when you reach the parking lot and your focus shifts to your surroundings. There’s nothing but a few parked cars, Hiragi’s bike, and some litter that the wind catches and pushes along the ground.

A dog barks in the distance, startling you, and you actually squeak when Hiragi puts a hand on your shoulder.

“Easy. M’not gonna let anything jump at you.”

A shaky breath leaves your chest and you steel yourself, apparently believing him, and walk the rest of the way to your car with a little more confidence. It’s a little hatchback, nothing modded except for the speaker system that starts blasting as soon as you turn your keys in the ignition.

“Not in that headspace anymore,” you mutter, the familiar rock song fading when you quickly twist the knob.

“I’ll follow behind to make sure he isn’t tailin’ ya,” Hiragi says.

A laugh gets caught in your throat, and he matches your expression—curious, eyebrows raised— “you, a scary guy, are gonna follow me home… to make sure another scary guy… isn’t following me home?”

“I—” Hiragi pauses. Doesn’t make much sense when you put it like that, but still. “Gotta pick your poison, I guess.”

You nibble on your lip again, now sitting in your driver’s seat while looking up at Hiragi from below. The thoughts that churn in his head are… weird. Not like him.

Matsumoto really should have warned him about how damn pretty you are.

“Fine. But only ‘cause I’ll need you to know where I live if he ever shows up there.”

“You don’t have to justify it to me,” Hiragi chuckles.

Your expression turns serious again, voice a little sad when you tell him, “you wouldn’t believe the things I’ve had to justify these last couple years.”

Fair. You probably haven’t had a guy, aside from Arima or your brother, anywhere near your home in a while, and your ex doesn’t seem the type to appreciate other men spending time with you.

Hiragi doesn’t know what to say to that. The only response he can come up with is an honest, “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

He watches in absolute horror as tears well up in your eyes, but you turn toward the windshield and away from him before things can get too awkward.

Jesus, when’s the last time a dude was nice to you?

“It’s not far from here,” you state. “I’ll drive slow.”

Hiragi will be able to keep up no matter how you drive, but he doesn’t bother saying so. He’ll just follow your lead.

Student housing is not what Hiragi expected you to be living in. Small, modest, cheap. At least it’s not shady, though, many of the unit lights still on inside.

“I tried to tell my stepdad that dorms were fine. Not like I need a lot of room, but he said I deserved privacy,” you say as you walk with Hiragi to your front door. “It was probably a blessing. I don’t know if I’d be able to handle all the eighteen-year-olds.”

He’s not planning on going inside, just wants to make sure you get in safely, but you pause after unlocking your door and ask, “do you mind sitting with me for a sec? I’m just… I don’t know. Nevermind.”

“I can stay,” Hiragi answers. “It’s okay to be kinda shaken up. Break up wasn’t long ago, was it?”

He follows behind you, crosses the threshold, no idea what he’s getting himself into.

“We did the on again off again shit for a while. The final split was a couple months ago, but it wasn’t until he found out I was moving that he started getting…”

“Scary?” he offers.

You nod. “Texts and calls from burner phones. His friends conveniently popping up around town. And I swear I keep seeing his stupid car everywhere. Maybe I’m just being paranoid.”

“What kinda car does he drive?”

Rolling your eyes you describe his Nissan as ‘obnoxiously loud’ and ‘modded to hell and back’. “It’s hard to miss.”

Hiragi stays in his place against the door, not wanting to impose. He glances around at the parts of your apartment that he can actually see—beige walls, wood flooring, small couch that doesn’t look broken in yet. The tiniest kitchen he’s ever seen is tucked into a corner, a ladder off to the side that leads up to what’s probably your sleeping space.

It feels cramped to be honest. Decent for a single college girl who spends more time on campus, but Hiragi feels more and more claustrophobic the longer he stands here. Then again, the tightness in his chest might have nothing to do with the apartment and everything to do with the way you’re staring at him.

He can’t read your expression entirely. There’s curiosity there, and… appreciation, he thinks. Admiration?

Attraction. That’s it.

You’re attracted to him.

Which really does not bode well considering Hiragi has been struggling to keep his eyes to himself.

“I have a weird question,” you state, and he swears his heart drops into his already upset stomach. “It’s embarrassing and cringey, but I figure I’ve already made myself look like some stupid girl who can’t defend herself and—” You ramble, and he lets you, watching you get flustered all by yourself before you finally blurt, “do you think I’m pretty?”

Hiragi blinks.

“Sorry. It’s just been a long time since anyone—and you’re a guy, so I feel like you can make that judgment ‘cause I don’t know, I just don’t feel like—”

“Definitely.”

You stop mid-sentence (was that even a sentence?) and get all doe-eyed again.

“Yeah?”

Damn, Arima really did a number on you.

“Yeah. I shouldn’t really say anything since your brother would kick my ass—or he’d try to—but,” he stalls, distracted by the vulnerability that’s been etched into you. “You keep lookin’ at me like that and I might have to show ya how pretty I think you are.”

He’s not sure where that last part came from. Absolutely did not mean to say it out loud, but now it’s there, and he can’t take it back, and this is not how Hiragi expected this night to go.

You’re slow to smile, like you’re still a little in shock, but when your lips start curling they don’t stop until you’re grinning sideways at him.

“Better be careful saying things like that to a girl like me.”

Hiragi pushes off the door, takes one long step to stand directly in front of you. You’re a good bit shorter than him, enough that he has to tilt his head downward to keep eye contact, but it’s cute the way you have to crane your neck to look at him.

“Yeah? What kinda girl is that?”

Fuck. Fuck. He isn’t supposed to want you. He told Matsumoto he would keep you safe from the pervy assholes around here, and now he’s acting like one of them.

“The kind who’s had to fake all her orgasms for the past three years.”

His dick twitches at the idea of you cumming at all, and Hiragi reaches up, hooking a finger under your chin to bring your face even closer to his. He doesn’t lack confidence by any means, but it’s rare that he’s this bold.

Something about you, though… the nervous babbling or your ass in those leggings or the way the word ‘orgasm’ flowed off your tongue so casually…

“Poor thing,” he murmurs in a low voice that makes you shiver for him.

Your gaze flits to his mouth for a moment, meets his again, and then you whisper, “show me how pretty you think I am.”

Your cheeks are hot under Hiragi’s palms when he grabs your face, crushing his lips against yours in a fevered kiss he could never have predicted.

You whimper immediately, clutching the collar of his shirt before frantically shoving at his jacket.

Oh, you need this, don’t you? You need someone to scratch that itch your ex never could.

Hiragi shrugs out of the leather then walks you backward toward your couch, his tongue sliding against yours as he maneuvers you to sit on the armrest. You tear your own jacket off, arms flying up when Hiragi starts pulling your shirt off. The bra you have underneath is made of soft material and does nothing to hide your hard nipples. He unclasps it with one hand, feels you smile into the kiss.

“Had some practice, have you?”

He smirks, “a bit.”

You yelp when he shoves you, sending you falling back onto the cushions so that he can get to the waistband of your bottoms and pull. You shimmy to help him, and once they’re off Hiragi is ready to spread your legs and feast on what’s between them only to find your knees locked together.

“What? Gettin’ all shy on me now?”

He’s not gonna force you to keep going if you don’t want to, but fuck, his cock is already painfully hard.

“No, I just… it’s been a second. I’m not fully, um, scaped.”

Hiragi snorts. “I’m not some frat boy bitch. A little hair ain’t gonna bother me.”

You nibble on your lip but eventually start to relax. Hiragi speeds up the process, looming over you while pressing your knees apart, and when his eyes land on what you were so worried about, his mouth starts to water.

The cutest, chubby pussy he’s ever seen, already wet for him. You’ve obviously ‘scaped’ recently, hair past stubble but nowhere near the point of curling—not that he’s ever minded that—but your insecurities are stupid.

He tugs you toward him so that your hips are lifted against the armrest, exposing more of you to him. Hiragi spreads your folds with his thumbs and licks his lips.

“Look at this sweet pussy,” he groans, pressing the tip of a finger into your drippy little hole. “All this for me?”

You let out something between a moan and a cry, nodding awkwardly, and your voice breaks when Hiragi leans over you to look at your face, sliding a long finger all the way inside of you without warning. You can take it, he knows, already soft and slick so there’s no resistance.

“You don’t even know me,” Hiragi states, hushed and a little condescending. He doesn’t know you either, but he sure is ready to stick his dick in you.

Your eyes roll, back arching, and you clench around his finger. When he curls it the way he’s done many times before, stroking against your swollen g-spot, your jaw goes slack.

Arima really couldn't do this for you? What a fucking moron.

Hiragi knows you’re gonna cum for him. He’s gonna make you. And fast. He just keeps stroking over that doughy bundle, rubbing circles over your twitching clit, and sure enough, within a matter of minutes your thighs are tensing and you’re squirting all over his shirt.

He shoves his face against your pussy, nosing between your folds as he laps up the cum still leaking out of you, forcing more and more out with each thrust of his finger.

“Oh fuck, fuck—I…”

Sucking your clit into his mouth, he keeps fucking into you, adding another finger and abusing your g-spot. You wanted an orgasm, and you’re gonna get one. Squirting is fun and messy, but he wants to get you to climax—one of those full-body, toe curling, tunnel vision kind of orgasms.

When your fingers curl in his short hair, holding him in place, Hiragi makes sure to keep up his current pattern, sucks with the same pressure, flicks his tongue in tandem with the movement of his fingers, never changing his pace as he pushes you further and further to the edge.

You begin to undulate beneath him, and even though he was about to use his free hand to palm his aching cock, he uses it to hold you in place, humming when your legs tremble over his shoulders.

“I’m—I’m, ohh~”

Your breath catches as your whole body opens up for Hiragi, pussy pulsing, blooming like a god damn flower as you cum hard, pushing out cream and another stream of squirt while your hips move against his hand uncontrollably.

“There we go,” Hiragi praises, “fuck, poor baby just needed to cum, yeah?”

“God, yesss,” your voice is thick and shaky, and you shiver almost violently as Hiragi fingerfucks you through your orgasm.

When the last few waves wash over you, and you’re only jerking from aftershocks, Hiragi removes his fingers only to replace them with his tongue. He licks inside your creamy cunt, cleaning you like the fucking gentleman he is, leaking precum into his jeans as he tastes every part of your hole he can reach.

You moan so pitifully for him, breathless and cute, and when Hiragi finishes, he kisses your clit like he’s married to it, sweet and chaste.

Wiping part of his face on his shoulder, Hiragi leans over you again, smirking at your fucked-out expression. Your eyes are glassy, smile dazed and goofy.

“Feelin’ a little more relaxed?”

You giggle drunkenly. “Mmmuch more, thank you.”

“Any time,” he responds honestly because truly, he could eat that pussy all day every day.

Am I pretty? What a dumb question. You’re a fucking masterpiece.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve gotta get home and jack off ‘til my dick bleeds.”

Your snort is undignified and adorable. “You could always just fuck me.”

Tempting, but, “babydoll, if I fuck you in the state I’m in right now,” —he gestures to his confined, throbbing cock, “—I will hurt you.”

You groan like you want it, but Hiragi can’t. He would destroy you with how pent up he is now, would bruise every part of you and wouldn’t be able to stop. He probably wouldn’t even be able to pull out. Christ, to cum in that pussy…

“Call me if you need anything,” he tells you, helping you sit up again, eyes wandering to your bouncing tits. He wants to bite them, mark them up with his teeth and tongue.

Another time, maybe. Hopefully.

“Anything?” you play, displaying yourself while you stretch what are sure to be sore muscles.

Hiragi chuckles, “anything.” He pulls you into a long kiss, the kind that leaves him a little dizzy, and adds a mumbled, “just don’t tell your brother.”

He leaves after gathering your clothes for you, drives back to his own apartment at break-neck speed, jacks off so many times that his cock is raw by the time he’s finally satisfied.

Matsumoto is gonna be so pissed if he ever finds out, but it was kind of irresponsible of him to put Hiragi in this situation. You should come with a damn warning—caution tape tied around your neck in a little bow.

How is he supposed to focus on keeping you safe around town when all he can think about is tasting you again?

Of course, there’s always the chance that this was a one-time thing. You’ll wake up in the morning, feel better now that you’ve gotten what you wanted, tell Hiragi ‘thanks, but that was a mistake’, and he’ll have to agree with you because it was.

Fucked up as it is, he hopes you’ll make a few more mistakes with him.