mysteriesmuse

[mysteriesmuse]

[mysteriesmuse]

oh the outrageously outdated and frankly useless “love quirk” family a romantics comedy and action movie gag — there’s nothing like it for taking a relationship from amicable to please-let-the-earth-swallow-me-whole on speed run.

which is precisely where shouto todoroki found himself — frantically hiding behind the kitchen island for the thousandth time, trying to keep some obstacle between you and himself. It had simply been an internship patrol gone wrong, the whole way back to the agency you’d refused to extricate yourself from his arm. The loathsome freak setting off some kind of love-inducing attack against him. Now, he’d run frantically behind the counter — the abnormal gleam in your eye threatening to do something to him you’d regret. He knew you wanted to jump his bones — which was frankly making him a touch delicious in that thing between his ears that he can’t happen to name right now because his motor functions were glitching out. But he wasnt going to let what you wanted to happen happen under these circumstances.

He braced himself on the counter hand gesturing to you, “No.”

Shouto’s body shivered, as he let go of a long suffering sigh, “I am not letting you whore yourself unto me. You are my friend and I respect you and your autonomy way too much for this, so until you calm the hell down we will not be so much as holding hands.” This seemed to only elicit a loud whiny pout to which Shouto furiously ran his hand through his disheveled hair in response. He could not keep playing this game of get away. . . . and that’s when an awful idea entered the chat — truly his brother Touya would be proud.

Which is how the rest of his classmates walked up to find shouto todoroki lounging on a beach chair in the front of the 3-A lawn. a pair of sunshine yellow striped party shades throw on, a white cotton button cover up — unbuttoned, plain ol’ khakis and flip-flops. A little worn paperback copy of “101 Traditional Japanese Love Stories” that he had releaved from the library for the foreseeable future and a lemonade (pink little paper umbrella included) in hand. His extremities were covered in tanning lotion and the condensation of the lemonade had made his fingers pruney as he turned each page — his right hand clutched in your feverish delirious grasp. Your eyes shone brightly (and unnaturally!) as he intoned the onslaught of different poems and love songs — somehow the artistry of it keeping you satiated. . . . plus he may or may not have somehow convinced you to dress warmly so that he could safely entrap you in ice. But Shouto had taken the opportunity to gently place a hideous floppy hat on and an endearingly ugly smear of sunscreen across your nose.

Kirishima, Mina, Jirou, and Froppy passed by the front walkway to the dorm all giving out greetings to him along the line of “umm hey todoroki?” “Uhh why is y/n glowing pink? And, why is she encased in ice? And, uh — why are you out here having a beach day with her in the middle of September? Wait did she get quirked-up?” Shouto took a long sip of his lemonade letting you reach out and ruffle his hair before your needy clammy little quirk-fever hand clasped his again, “our classmate y/n saved me from a very embarrassing quirk attack in our joint internship patrol.” they all slowly nodded taking in y/n’s appearance — it was definitely a little concerning.

“— oh shouto please do go on! my heart beats only to accompany the angelic melody of your voice.” “ahem,” a white arched eyebrow peaked over the hideous sunshine-y glasses, “and that was the moment that the icy hare came at last to court his princess after his unbelievable trials . . .”

[mysteriesmuse]

Keigo’s favorite way to rest with you has to be this. The curtains let the hazy reflections of the falling sunlight ping-pong across different corners of the apartment. inside Keigo lounges on the couch with a new episode of his favorite documentary series on. the low humming of the AC blows cool air in to combat the grainy summers humidity that lays just beyond the flimsy sliding door to your balcony. And you, his little lovely chickadee lay contentedly sprawled out with him. A lazily little baby bird on his couch, but he can’t help but admit how lovely it is. How comfortable and weirdly domestic it feels as his favorite narrator goes on about evidence that the Mesopotamians may have alluded to humanities quirk development in a new series of unearthed pottery shards. he lays face first into the couch a “summery” throw pillow curled under his chin and his other hand dipping in a bowl of Doritos on the floor. meanwhile, you’ve taken up residence in your very small, but not impractical apartment directly on top of him. the soft fabric of your tube top leaving and letting the soft curvature of your body to melt against the sensitive downy base of his wings, your elbow digging into oh so slightly into his shoulder blade but the little lip glosses kisses you’ve left to that spot more than makes up for it — and nothing before has ever felt so cozy as you mumble, chin in hand, in response to their findings on the screen. Keigo can feel the quiet weight of you pressed against his own bare spine cradled by the protective nest of his cozy wings. And his jaw has never felt so fucking tight as when you lazily comb your fingers into his drooping wings. The big red predatory feathers absolute traitors as they preen in your touch and Keigo can’t say much in his own defense as his heart beats rapidly and a familiar pressing serge of blood rushes lower still.

[mysteriesmuse]

the sun beat down harshly and you’d been taking shift running around and entertaining the little creatures. Izuku sat back in a lawn chair watching as the little cousins slowly migrated away towards the house. The rest of your extended family chatting among themselves. Next to him was another lawn chair, your summer tbr that you were excited about laid forgotten in the indent shaped like your rear. Izuku sat, his own book propped up in his hands, serving no purpose as his eyes wandered just over the top of it. There you were in the thick green grass with your parents dog running about in circles smiling angelically as the little furry guy followed you around. His tongue lolled out of his mouth and tail wagging as he followed dancing circles around you — biting and chomping angrily at the streams of water in the rotating sprinkler. honestly, the ferocity reminded him of his childhood friend Kacchan, a similarly angry guy with a loud mouth. Izuku absentmindedly scratched at his bicep the thick muscle curling unneath the gentle scratch of his fingertips. You looked ethereal over there. Out on the lawn content by a sprinkler and a furry friend. Letting out breathy joyful laughter as the dog followed barreling into your knees — the mud making your knees shake as it slid between your toes. you squealed each time it did. You’d left your sandals forgotten in your wake when the little boys had hauled you up. They sat dry and hidden carefully in the long strands of grass underneath your chair which sat unaccompanied next to him. Instead all you wore was a nerdy pair of swimming bottoms — the skort kind that flounced around your thighs just right. And a mismatched bikini top underneath an old white tee of his that you’d lazily snagged on. The fabric with the katakana ‘summer shirt’ faded from one too many washes. The too big fabric clinging to you translucent to reveal the curved shape of your modest cut bikini top. Izuku could make out the green fabric really well by now. The thick little green knot visible by the base of your neck — caressed by a messy ratty ponytail of knotted wet hair. The smile of your face way too bright. Especially when your eyes found his own and you’d innocently crawled into his lap getting him soaking wet as your lightly sunburnt limbs circled around his neck and chest kicking your feet idly as your furry pal sniffed curiously at them.

Izuku inhaled, his book dropped into the grass, the scent of sweet summer grass and wet dog clung to air as he held you close mouth ghosting over the shell of your ear. He green eyes lazily watching your toes clench at the action a huff of laughter escaping his chest, “all I said was you need a shower hun’ you kinda smell like dog.” you shake your head and sheepishly laugh, wet fingers gliding through his green curls. He instinctively leans in to the shivery cool touch of your skin and all he can wonder is how it would feel to have your fingers glide through his hair with the biting cool press of metal against his albeit admittedly sensitive scalp . . . and that was probably the first time your boyfriend Izuku Midoriya conceded silently to himself that you were the one for him. the only one for him.

[mysteriesmuse]

what if there was one more hero student taken on the world hero missions . . .  the grueling trip back from the mission was not lost on you or any of the boys.  it was late, or early, or rather simply something hazy. something in between where the folding ridges of the quilted kakebuton calling your name and the dappled sunlight in the horizon simply agreed.  and despite the aching muscles or the singed bits, or the maybe slightly broken things the lot of you simply stepped up into the welcoming ryokan.  you watched as your new acquaintances? colleagues? friends? each deposed of their shoes at the entrance.  Bakugou, the explosive blonde and partially deaf one, miraculously stooping down to peel off his leather shoes by fishing around the squishy part of the achilles before deftly setting them together side by side.  Todoroki, the moody son of flame hero endeavor, hastily toe-heeling it out of his sensible sneakers. A pair of ridiculous ‘dorito’ branded socks peeking out from the indoor slippers.  And Midoriya, the most aggressively anxious and analytical and insanely powerful nerd you’d ever met, just fiddling nonsensically with his red laces. the broken fingers in his hands not quite helping — getting a silent helpful hand by the blonde explosive one.  And you, you’d snuck in beside them, bracing yourself against the wall and quickly toed off your flats looking small and delicate as you set them on the shelf next to the mens large sized shoes.  the three future pros all nearly hero sized already.  Todoroki had already begun silently moving his things, claiming a spot. Another, burrito blanket souvenir, draped around his drooped shoulders as he unpacked a few things.  Bakugou staggered along the ryokan hall feet-slapping the tatami with a grumpy ‘tch’ from that obnoxiously loud mouth of his. Midoriya scrambled past muttering something along the lines of ‘take it.’  And so you didn’t argue.  the grey shadows through the papery shoji doors on either side of you made things simple. The pounding headache behind your eyes unhindered. It was all unimaginative shapes. The broad and tapered form of the explosion god. The stacked and stocky form of the wielder of One for All. The smooth long musculature of the ‘icy hot’ hero. The short curves of your own outline.  the same simple features not hidden by your skintight mission suits.  and you’d imagine that one would fall asleep instantly. that after saving the world you might all be able to sleep. that jet lag and time zones would come to claim you.  but sometimes shadows do not reveal simple forms. sometimes they reveal hidden shaky shapes that lurk on the edge of our subconscious, which is how you hear the grassy scratchings of the mattresses, the shikibukan, sliding across tatami mats.  “a little further.” “nah icy hot move yours here.” “if you insist.” “kacchan. todoroki-kun, shh.”  the same raspy whispered voices of the young men you’d spent near every waking minute of the last month with wake you up. Your eyelids moving with that crusty creaky precision. Your cheekbone smooshed against the unbearably lukewarm corner of the pillow. Your mouth open all dry and cottony, you wipe the drool with your sleeve. You stare at them, squinting in the dark.

they move quietly-ish. Quiet enough that you don’t think Endeavor or the other pros down the hallway can hear them.  their figures all overlapping in the sleepy enigma that is the nature of jet lag. you shakily move to your feet. fingertips brushing against the wooden walls. the old grain of the wood threatening splinters as you do so, gliding smoothly against the tatami until you can clearly see them. 

they turn frozen. nearly caught off guard before seeing their token female colleague standing in the hallway. todoroki can’t help but notice the way your shirt collar lazily droops past the bare slope of your shoulder as you lean against the wall. midoriya can’t help but notice the little signature pop of your seemingly favorite color, if your hero costume was any indication, on your delicate little feet shifting awkwardly in the dim light. bakugou can’t help but notice the all too familiar nerdy glimmer of a robust night retainer in your mouth as you unintentionally hiss out, ‘what’s going on?’ between plump lips. the lowering of their guards instantaneous. 

and they can’t resist beckoning you in — only if you want. only if you’re comfortable — into their home-away-from-home ritual. and so they poke and gasp and hush and groan as you join their little childish pile. 

a smattering of shikibukan and kakebuton all the tatami floor covered wall-to-wall with bodies, and downy cushioning.

positioning yourself in a comfortable place where you’re maybe less likely to get squashed or smacked in the middle of the night. curled with your barely friends bodies against your front and back. the quiet gentle press of limbs, of arms and biceps and legs and the annoying press of your cold toes into somebodies calves. the richeocetting “lub-dub’s” of heartbeats thudding throughout the room. and you can see now why their mission brief information was so deliberate and thoughtful. why your mentors gave you warning that they’d work together well — but may not openly accept a random non-classmate, as much as they were to accurately acknowledge your skills and role in the mission. 

although you can’t help but think that the intel given on them was wrong because here in the haze of a frightening missions aftermath, you were comfortably pressed together in their makeshift fort. in their three musketeers ritual. in the midst of the orange, green, and dual-toned heart of it. 

[mysteriesmuse]

you’re hot, uncomfortable, and pinned to the mattress by 170 pounds of pro hero who’s nose is smushed into the side of your neck, mouth agape, breath fogging warm onto your cheek.

you’ve been awake for a while now, plotting the least disruptive escape route for your very full bladder.

when you move, keigo lets out a low, pitiful whine and slides his hand across your stomach, palm splaying flat just under your bra. “where’re you goin’.”

“kei,” you groan. “i have to pee.”

“no you don’t,” he mumbles, nose nuzzling into ur collarbone. “you think you do, but it’s fake.”

his fingers creep under the waistband of your shorts to rest on the dip of your hipbone. not quite anywhere inappropriate, but it isn’t exactly helping your case. “i’m keeping you warm. relax. let the pee reabsorb.”

“baby, that’s not how any of that works.”

“you’re cozy. you smell good. everything’s perfect.” he kisses the spot just below your ear, even licks it a little. “if you get up, i’ll die.”

“you can survive thirty seconds.”

he opens an eye. “bold of you to assume i want to.”

there are three cups on the nightstand. one still has a teabag floating in cold water. the other two — one from yesterday morning, one from the night before — have fingerprints smudged down the sides and tiny dust rings under them. you keep meaning to bring them to the kitchen. he keeps promising he’ll do it.

“keigo. let me go. i’m serious.”

“you’ll come back?”

“yes.”

“you promise?”

“yes..”

“love you,” he says sleepily. “stay a little.”

you purse your lips. “i’m about to flood the bed.”

“you’re being dramatic,” he slurs, eyes shut. he burrows his face deeper in your neck and rubs his foot against your calf. “stay. i was having a nice dream.”

“i’ll come back.”

“i’ll forget what you feel like by the time you do.”

“you’re such a little freak.”

“yeah?” he hums, barely awake. “you love this freak.”

you finally manage to peel his limbs — and feathers — off of you and sit up. you shuffle to the bathroom in your sleep shorts and a wrinkled shirt (his), rubbing at your eyes. when you flip on the light and glance back, he’s standing in the doorway.

more sleep than person, boxers crooked, hair flat on one side. his eyes are closed, forehead resting against the doorframe like he might fall asleep standing up. one wing drags behind him, and the other twitches like it’s still deciding whether or not to stretch.

you raise an eyebrow. “seriously?”

“jus’ makin’ sure you don’t fall in.”

“i’m not six.”

“you’re sleepy. you might slip. it’s dangerous. tile’s cold. corners are sharp. i’m being responsible.”

“i’ve been peeing by myself for like, twenty years.”

he doesn’t budge.

you do your business while he stays planted in place. a man deeply committed to making sure you don’t disappear in the 45 seconds it takes to pee. cute..?

when you finish and wash your hands, he finally stirs.

he finds your hand in the dark hallway. his fingers thread through yours, and you let him pull you back toward the bedroom, barefoot on the wooden floors.

“c’mere,” he rasps out, lashes stuck together.

you crawl in beside him and he drags you down no trouble. his leg is immediately back where it was, hand sliding back under your shirt like it never left. the other flops over your ribs and stays there.

“i was cold,” he mumbles.

“we were apart for two minutes.”

“longest two minutes of my life.”

[mysteriesmuse]

imaging the hilarious possibility that a teacher girlie and ends up teaching some of the students from the work study licensing nonsense in the future and just ends up flipping their shit when they hear their students reference their favorite hero “FIVE WIENEES” I mean like first skibidi toilet and now this??!?! AKDHJAHDWJJSJWKAIHS

[mysteriesmuse]

your girl graduated college today with her bachelors!!! 🥳🥳🍾

[mysteriesmuse]

Teacher Midoriya Sensei headcannons!! 🤓📚

📚Midoriya Sensei who has spent so much of his young life here that all the other teachers still just call him Midoriya or Deku on email or in the halls.

📚 Midoriya Sensei who in the teacherworkroom always looks like an utter nutcase; muttering to himself, lifting the entire freaking PRINTER to find a pen that rolled away, crying over every. single. #worldsbestteacher mug in the cubbies. 📚Midoriya Sensei whom is wayyy too chipper in the mornings with his energy drink of choice. The other teachers secretly cooing over their young prodigy and also turning in the opposite direction bc they DO NOT have the energy to hear about the current hero rankings or talk lesson plan.

📚 Midoriya Sensei who spends too much time FULLY devoted in the professional development meetings. He has no idea what ANY of the acronyms are, but he’s got the spirit he’s just really confused. but god dammit if he asks another singular clarifying question on course standards, assessment evaluation, and/or lesson planning someone will knock him out. 📚Midoriya Sensei who gets wayy too into the first-year tour because he remembers falling in love with this place when he was a student 🥹 📚Midoriya Sensei who has class president and vice President write the announcements on the board because his hands ache so much by the end of the day those broken bones really add up eventually 📚Midoriya Sensei who never outgrows his notebook habit and just embraces it fully as a teacher. All his students are terrified of quirk analysis day bc he brings out dozens of TEXTBOOKS on each of their quirks. like how did the man have time for this?! does he have a social life??

📚Midoriya Sensei who’s test scores are all over the place the first semester because the kids led him on too many tangents so they never cover all their material on time 😭😭

📚Midoriya Sensei who’s limited classroom management techniques range from a) politely-to-impolitely telling his students to “lock in” b) giving his entire lecture while standing on top of his desk with a yard stick c) calling and threatening to bring in Explosion Murder God Dynamite for their next training session. 📚Midoriya Sensei who kids grew up with him on the news all the time so they routinely meme him from iconic news footage reels their favorites are

“SMASH!!!” in response to literally anything bc they think it’s so weird

Mission com marco polo except it’s “bones?” “broken” “boNEs?” “bROkeEn!” and the teacher livefeed makes him cringe 🫠

the most strangled pubescent PLUS ULTRA!! they can muster

little hand yapping 🤏�� everytime he gets started on a tangent

and most recently a menacing “you. will. be. my. friend.” curtesy of a recent Hero Shoto interview

[mysteriesmuse]

did this inspired by this twitter post lol https://x.com/sillybeehades/status/1919009724772544621

[mysteriesmuse]

hilarious head cannon there’s got to be a point where a lot of the 1-A kids had to grow their hair out for hero costume upgrades like mirio. this HAS to be like a common young hero arch. let’s be real having AT LEAST one classmate grow out their hair for a costume in hero school is a cannon event 👏 hagakure, kirishima, shoto, and maybe even mina would all totally benefit from it! hell I can also see izuku trying it bc why not??

[mysteriesmuse]

OBSESSED with the hero’s summer sweetheart girlie y/n like she’s exciting and vibrant and so so lively when they’re on break there’s something that makes this man just want to stick around and bask in here warm presence. she rides around along these dirt roads in the back of an old pickup truck hollering and snorting and screaming with her mates. she’s spotted early in the morning with her sweet cup at the local spot pretty lips pursed around the drink. she’s got the prettiest plush thighs peaking out of frayed denim shorts and the smattering jingle of anklets and brackets adorning her. she walks around town and gets greeted warmly by everyone she sees. she gets pestered by the children to read stories and answer silly pesky questions and she’ll answer them all. curt and polite and yet so well with kids and the teenagers whom always pass by in michevious groups whom miraculously stop to talk and laugh her ear off. and it becomes so easily clear why there’s this odd feeling in his chest. why there’s this awkward lump in his throat. why the subtle brush against your sun-kissed skin makes his spine jolt. why even the silhouette of your figure or the flitting softness of your voice makes his heart sing. why it’s so easy for him to finally lean in an embrace your touch in the middle of the forest on a hot and stormy day as the sky breaks havoc and realises this huge dark steamy curtain of warm rain.

[mysteriesmuse]

oh my god I love this so much!!

midoriya sensei !

[mysteriesmuse]

douxie is the character ever. he's hundreds of years old. he's 19. he died. he came back because his dad (who also died) said no. he's an orphan. he's the apprentice to the most renowned sorcerer of all time. he has multiple customer service jobs. he gave himself permanent memory loss. he was introduced with the most weird vibes that make him seem totally different than how he actually acts in every subsequent interaction. he has a cat. he's in a band. he is constantly prioritizing the safety well-being of everyone around him above his own. he's even British.

[mysteriesmuse]

if you have a niche sport/job/hobby it’s your sacred duty to make the most specific incomprehensible AUs with the characters you like. no more coffeeshop aus no more college aus you have to put those guys in a microbial lab. your fave is a high school english teacher. that show is about bowling now sorry. THIS IS MANDATORY!!!

[mysteriesmuse]

“Are you sure it’s such a good idea letting all these trolls and wizards into your home, Claire?” Jim asked. “Not really,” she whinced. Tonight Claire had given herself (and Jim) the task of preparing a full course for their guests. There between them lay a notebook with a list for tonight: The Guacamole Queen’s special guac and chip recipe, thrifted silverware, chorizo tacos, socks generously “donated” by Coach Lawerence via Steve, and the infamous Camelot-meat-pies that they tried while time traveling (she’d and Jim had been working for months to perfectly recreate the recipe). So far they’d gotten through with the guac, socks, and silverware . . . if some baby brother would stop eating all the appetizers.

Claire swatted at NotEnrique’s arm as he snatched another a sock from the bowl on the kitchen island. “Hey—!”

Brother and sister shared a look across the kitchen. “— anyways as I was gonna’ say, yous’ was only blamed two times— but now that the fleshbag mom and dad are in the know there’s no reason we can’t move our meetings to a cushier joint than your basement.” “Alright, alright that’s fair,” Jim conceded, “but I better not get blamed for ruining the Nunez house.”

“Again.” he added. “If anything goes wrong! I was never here!”

“Trust me, Jim. I think this will be really great for our friends. Where else are they going to get to talk about this kind of stuff? Plus imagine what kinds of lives they’ve already led. I mean,” crunch, “— Douxie is over 900 years old,” satisfied she slung another chip into the fresh guac and passed the bowl it in front of Jim. “I mean, we don’t know how old Blinky and Arrrghhhh! are, but they have got to be much older than that. I mean hosting this event is the least I can do after everything they’ve done for us.” Jim swallowed, almost choking. “You know I’ve never thought to ask . . .” He shook his head, “if anything starts to get out of hand with these magic geezers then you’ve got your trusty troll hunting boyfriend here!” “Uh-huh and if my parents ask?” She teased. Jim looked into his girlfriend’s big brown beautiful eyes and rounded the countertop to place the chips and guacamole out for their guests, “then I was never here!” And that’s how it ended up being immortal game night at the Mayor Nunez’s house . . . ————— From their kitchen hideaway the host couple waited barricaded behind the kitchen island as their guests poured into the living room enemies, allies, mentors, friends, and ultimately family. SCRABBLE went off to a smashing start . . . Nothing quite like explaining, validating, and bickering over each. and. every. single. word. as Latin, Spanish, trollish, and now alien-ese was added to the mix by Stuart. (Of which none of the others would let him use.) Douxie’s girlfriend defended a word by demonstrating the spell on him as Strickler and Blinky firmly argued that it wasn’t a word. It was. It was a nearly useless parlor trick spell that swaps your bellybutton from an inny to an outy. Fun. NotEnrique started to secretly eat Blinky’s, Stricklers, and Douxie’s vowels to hault their winning scores — until they caught him. “Oi kid, that’s bad form!” “Indeed, perhaps if you’d surrounded yourself with books you’d be as good at this game as us scholars!!” And eventually ARRRGH fed up and overwhelmed by the constant slew of words and fighting passing over his head ATE the board . . . (Blinky was in the led.)

—————— MONOPOLY was simply a bad idea . . . Blinky kept doing math while wildly gesturing with all four of his arms the entire game thus, smacking Strickler and Draal in the face, and was WAY too into being the bank teller. Nomura and NotEnrique had somehow managed to gain a three quarters monopoly on the board (and turned evil again) — despite the wizards subtle magical money laundering, which was only fueling the math god fire that possessed Blinky because as it turns out Jim learned from Claire that “Duplications spells are child’s play!”

and everyone was eternally suffering from the whole corner taxation, lots of groans and growls and glowing eyes, but Jim and Claire couldn’t help but snicker as they watched from in the kitchen. “No, Draal and I are not selling our yellow square, not after you ate the last of the meat pies!” In the end the changlings prevailed against Arcadias mighty hero’s and as if defeat wasn’t enough . . . they bragged the rest of the evening. —————— By Deya’s grace, The Voting Game, seemed to unfurl at breakneck speed. Perhaps it was because they all felt better after a quick snacking interlude courtesy of Chefs Jim and Claire. Who would be the last person on the shore if everyone was skinny dipping? Naturally Zoe won without question although a few ringers for Stuart as someone they wouldn’t want to skinny dipping with — rude! “I’m not that smelly am I?” a frantic shout of “yes!” came from the group. “yes, and I don’t even know you that well,” Zoe sighed pinching her nose, “which to be clear, is the only reason I wouldn’t be skinny dipping with all of you.” “yeah, she’s rather informal about her bathing.” Douxie added. Which earned him a proper elbow to the ribs, “Ouch!” “Shut. Up!” Which person would come back as a ghost? “Mordrax’s Miracles! ARRRGH my friend, you’ve already done this!”

“True. Have already.” “So do we choose to choose another bloke or do we go with the obvious?” “Well are we picking someone in our history that is already deceased or are we picking amongst us here in the room?”

“I’d say we pick from in here.”

“If that’s the case then . . .” The entire living room glanced over to the kitchen. ARRRGH said what they were all thinking, “Jim.” “Lively.” “Ditto.” “couldn’t have said it better me’ self. okay next — “

Who started a rumor that isn’t true, but everyone thought it was? An overwhelming amount of 5s. The culprit emitted a nervous laugh. “So come on, lay it on us wizard boy.” “Hisirdoux, don’t even think about it!” Archie growled from his spot on the top of the chair. Douxie laughed as the gang shouted in a frenzy. They quieted, “I am guilty as charged, but for what I can’t say. It would corrupt your sense of reality.” His familiar grinned back at him. “Precisely because you all believe it to be true.” He added with a nod. “A CONSPIRACY!!” ————— Eventually they forgot about the games (Blinkys conspiracy conniption diverting attention) and simply talked.

The card and board pieces forgotten on the board as they all munched on churros brought by Stuart, and watched a pie brought by Strickler courtesy of the Trollhunters mother. There was something cathartic and simply invigorating as sharing their life’s before they meet these predestined allies! Blinky spoke about the early Americas and his unfortunate near-death experience with a buffalo a month into life in the new world. And ARRRGGHH shared how he saved him — that time — and 17 other times just from buffalos alone in the new world. “They were a serious problem amoung troll kind in the early days!” “Just Blinky.” Stuart went on about the absolute best side of the space race story. Strickler and Nomura sitting on the ends of their seats with the most receptive feedback, nearly yelling like it was all a great big soccer match. And not, in fact, a great big scientific milestone. Draal and the trolls gave an interesting and disgusting angle on of one of the best underground prohibition bars which caused Arch and Douxie to sit up perk up. “—so you’re telling me as a customer I was unknowingly drinking glug? I’ve been in the food industry for centuries and this doesn’t pass any laws!” “Pretty much.” And at the end of the night when the apple pie he brought sat sadly and predictably untouched Stricklander commanded the room. A dark and twisted tale of his time teaching and unknowingly working alongside a decorated detective as he uncovered clues about the towns most infamous murder (not to mention the only real human inflicted murder). No one knew Arcadia Oaks High had such a deep true crime history. “It began to get increasingly difficult to remain undercover as a channeling in the Janus Order as Detective Miller investigated at our school. And each Tuesday like clockwork I would stay up listening to the radio in the evening as I worked to help keep the pieces of the story that got tangled in with us away from the public eye. Now one night I had discovered that . . .” Even Claire had slowly migrated from the kitchen as the gang gasped and laughed at Stricklers amazing story. She stood next to her magic teacher by the arm of her couch and NotEnrique passed her a greasy churro where she stood.

Jim could only chuckle and smile watching, as his girlfriend simultaneously took a bite out of her churro in one hand and petted Archie with the other to soothe her nerves. Jim stood in the kitchen still. This was home. Aliens, Trolls, Wizards and all. Douxie leaned back and peered past his girlfriend. He waved him over. Jim stood beside Claire before a healthy serving of churros was shoved into his hands. His soon-to-be stepfather indulged in the crowds reaction. Jim bit into his churros. . . “Now, as you guessed, the bureaucratic decision of using goblins to destroy evidence was a terrible idea. It wasn’t in my jurisdiction, nor would it have been my decision . . .” The welcome taste of cinnamon and sugar danced on his tongue; this was a good idea after all.

[mysteriesmuse]

I just gave a mini facelift to some blog and master list formatting stuff and im so proud!! 🥹