#fair bit noisier lets be real

[tinygayproductions]

yknow, i think cat sitting is the closest ive ever gotten to living on my own

[trashytummiez]

Shamrock Slammers

Felt like making a really self-indulgent Harley and Ivy fic for yesterday.  X3

“Do ya think they use shamrocks instead’uh hops fer Shamus’?”  Harley Quinn asked when she dropped a twenty four pack of Shamus’ Shamrock Slam ale down on Poison Ivy’s coffee table.

Ivy took a bottle for herself and lobbed one to Harley who caught it but nearly fumbled when she did.  “No.”

Harley pouted.  “Then that’s false advertisin’!  That’d be like sayin’ Shamrock Shakes ain’t made with real shamrocks!  We oughta sue the pants right off their heads!”

Ivy stared like she wanted to say something about Harley’s favorite shamrock shakes but she didn’t want to risk breaking the poor young blonde lady’s crazed heart.

“Shamrocks, hops, there’s no arguing with the results, Harl.”

Harley shrugged.  “Eh got me there, Red.”  She skipped over to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle opener to pop her top loose.  Ivy used a vine from her arm to just squeeze the bottle cap off instead.  “Happy St. Patties Day, Red!  May the Easter Bunny finally find his four leaf clover!”

“I think I’ll drink to that,” Ivy said and clinked her bottle against Harley’s.  Then both young women took their bottles to their lush lips and guzzled their contents down.  

Ivy downed her drink at an impressive rate but her focus was on Harley.  She watched her slender pale throat throb repeatedly with each rapid gulp she took and saw the contents of her upside down bottle vanishing down Harley’s throat at a truly impressive speed.  In no time at all Harley finished her first bottle with a hearty sigh and grabbed her second bottle to down at the same breakneck pace.  Ivy had just finished hers with a huff and grabbed herself another bottle with her vines.  

She started drinking but was obviously distracted watching Harley chug away.  Harley already finished her second bottle and got to work on her third with scarcely any pause in between safe for the time it took to actually grab and unpop her bottles.  Before Ivy knew it the clutter of empty beer bottles besides Harley began to add up.

The petite bleach-fleshed blonde was downing her drinks so quickly she might’ve almost given Killer Croc a run for his money in a drinking contest.  One bottle after another was drained down her throat like this was nothing for her.  And the wet and audible gulps Ivy could hear emitting from Harley’s throat with each bottle she guzzled down caused Ivy’s cheeks to redden up.  

But not as much as that big rumbling burp Harley released after finishing her latest bottle.

BEEEEEEEEEEEEHUUUULLRRRRAAAAAAAAHP!!!!

Harley thumped her chest to get another one out and smacked her lips with a satisfied sigh.  Then she was right back to drinking more beer.

It was an amazing display that Ivy could watch over and over again.  Of course Ivy was no slouch herself in that department.  She was getting a good amount of beer in her at an impressive rate too.  So much that Ivy maybe should have considered eating something beforehand first.  Though her power at least gave her a higher tolerance for alcohol than normal humans.  It didn’t stop her from feeling a little tipsy the more she drank though.

Some ways in Ivy huffed a little and blinked groggily from being buzzed.  “Wow, didn’t think I drank that much,” Ivy admitted then hiccuped loudly.  She covered her mouth and blushed with a light chuckle then looked back at Harley who was downing who knows how many bottles this point in.

There had to be at least over a dozen bottles finished by Harley alone.  How she could drink so much without enduring any alcohol poisoning was beyond explanation.  But Ivy wasn’t interested in that.  She was far more interested in the impact all that beer had on Harley’s tummy.

Harley’s pale bare stomach was sticking out and looking a fair deal bloated from all that beer giving her a textbook beer belly.  Ivy could hear it gurgle from so much alcohol swishing around inside of her girlfriend all at once.  The sounds Harley’s belly made caused Ivy to swoon over it.

After finishing another bottle Harley set the empty bottle down with the clutter and belched loudly and heavily.

HAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUURRRRAAAAAAAAAHP!!!!!

Harley was so bloated with liquids sloshing around inside of her that her belly actually rippled with her burp.  Ivy’s face was going almost as red as her hair with that one.  Especially when Harley sighed loudly and patted her belly and caused it to slosh with her patting.  

She spent a moment rubbing her bloated beer belly up and down with a satisfied look on her face.  Then she grabbed another bottle and hiccuped which caused her tummy to bounce with the slosh of beer.  Harley covered her mouth and giggled drunkenly then tossed another beer bottle to Ivy.  “C’mon Red.  Still gotta finish up.”

Both women continued drinking though Harley was drinking way more than Ivy who was at around her limit by now.  Ivy was definitely more than buzzed by this point.  Her head felt a little lighter after a while.  When she pulled the bottle away from her lips to catch her breath Ivy had to stifle a burp beneath her hand.  She blushed and excused herself but Harley just responded with a huge burp of her own that only made Ivy blush even more for an entirely different reason.

They continued pounding their drinks Harley obviously more than Ivy.  The plant lady was feeling a little bloated herself after a while.  She placed a hand against her stomach and felt that it was pushing out against her jacket and feeling a lot tighter than usual.  Ivy had to stop drinking.  She instead set her half finished bottle on the table and sighed while rubbing her stomach with one hand.  “Ungh, okay I’m full,” Ivy moaned.  She burped into her fist a few times to try and bring a little relief.

Harley saw Ivy and giggled drunkenly.  “Nawww Red, yer doin’ it all wrong!  Ya gotta do it like this!”  She gripped her knees which made her bloated beer belly sag down slightly as it sloshed around.  Then Harley took a deep breath and belched like a trucker.

HAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRHP!!!!!!

Obviously that demonstration made Ivy melt inside.  “I think I need another demonstration,” Ivy insisted in an obviously goading manner.

It didn’t matter.  Harley gulped down some air and immediately released another huge burp that was shorter but way louder than the last.

BUUUUUUUUUURRRRROOOOOOHP!!!!!!

Harley smacked her lips and grinned drunkenly at Ivy.  “Ya see?  Nothin’ to it!”

Ivy bit her lip at the stimulating demonstration.  She stood firm with a bit of focus then took in some air.  The pressure didn’t feel the greatest in her stomach but Ivy followed Harley’s advice and gulped down some air.  When she felt like her stomach couldn’t take anymore Ivy grabbed it firmly and pushed out a pretty decent burp of her own that stretched on for a few seconds.

UUUUUUUoooorrrrRUUUUuuuuuuuuuhhhp!!!!

Ivy gasped then hiccuped.  She covered her mouth blushing and hiccuped again.  The red haired metahuman was gonna excuse herself but she could still feel some pressure in her stomach.  So instead of saying “excuse me” like normal Ivy held her belly and let out an even bigger burp.

HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHP!!!!!

Harley giggled and gave Ivy a thumbs up.  “Not bad, Red!”

Ivy was blushing but she felt a lot better after that.  “Haah, didn’t feel bad either,” she said rubbing her stomach contently.  It was still feeling heavy from all the beer she had drunk but a lot of the pressure had been taken care of.  Then she looked over at Harley’s rounder heavier tummy and placed her hands against it.  “That’s nothing compared to you though,” Ivy said longingly while her hands rubbed Harley’s belly up and down.

Harley moaned at the feeling stumbling a little from how drunk she was and grabbed another bottle.  She downed more beer while Ivy lovingly rubbed her rounded tummy.  Ivy could feel Harley’s stomach grow the more beer she chugged.  It was actually getting noisier beginning to gurgle and bubble away.  After finishing the bottle Harley hiccuped which made her tummy bounce a little.  Then she burped loudly again which made her belly jiggle in Ivy’s hands.

By the time Harley was done she was left a bloated burpy mess hiccuping repeatedly on the couch and sprawled against the arm of the couch.

Hic!

Hic!

“Uuuuuungh...HIC!  So fuuuuull...” Harley whined in her drunken stupor hiccuping again and again which kept causing her tummy to bounce with each sudden jerk.

“So drunk is more like it,” Ivy said.  She sat on couch directly in front of Harley rubbing her swollen beer-filled tummy.  Ivy looked over Harley’s round sloshy tum and was in awe.  “How can someone so tiny even drink so much without dying?”

Harley hiccuped loudly again and huffed out a drunken grin.  “’Cuz dyin’s fer dumb-dumbs!”

Ivy shrugged.  That was good an answer as she was probably going to get.

So she continued gently running her hands all across Harley’s impressive bloat.  It moved with Ivy’s hands rocking to her motions from just how much beer was swishing away inside of Harley.  Ivy was so turned on at the sight she couldn’t help slapping Harley’s bloated belly to feel it thump heavily against her palm and watch that smooth creamy surface jiggle.

The impact of the slap caused Harley to burp massively.

BWUUUURRHEEEEEEEEEEERRRRRAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!

Ivy shuddered from the sound and the way Harley’s belly rippled with the force of that burp leaving her tummy.

“Oh my God...” Ivy uttered in an aroused manner.  

Harley huffed so hard her tongue stuck out then she grinned back at Ivy.  “Hey, God’s got nuttin’ t’do it!  T’day’s all thanks t’Saint Patty’n her wonderful Shamrock Shakes!”

It was hard to tell if Harley was just really drunk or just being Harley.

But Ivy leaned down and kissed Harley’s bloated tummy then gently rested her head against it whilst rubbing it.  Harley hiccuped again which caused her tummy which Ivy was still using as a pillow to shake.  Ivy’s face was going more red than her hair.

“Well whoever I have to thank for this, let them know that I’m loving every second of this holiday.”

[chiaki-translation]

R Kazunari [Pick Up the Cue]: Backstage Translation

KAZU, LIBER LOVES YOU TOO MUCH! But to be fair, I’m not even mad because Kazu and billiard is... Too good I cannot complain...

Anyway, after this I’m going to be back to my studies and assignment, so I figured I should just get the card, translate it and get it done... I didn’t actually get Masumi, but I do have Misumi, but that would need to wait a few days to be translated~

Summary: Kazunari and his idea to play billiard in dorm.

Disclaimer:

A3! is owned by Liber’s Entertainment

Communication Guy’s Personal Connection

Translator’s Note: I believe that Communication Guy is Yuki’s nickname for Kazu and I’m following that translation to make it more consistent with the wiki. As per usual, I cannot confirm the reading for the store owner’s kanji name, but I’m translating it as Nishiki since it fits with the nickname.

Kazunari:

Yeay, it’s my win~!

Friend A:

Damn, I lost…!

Friend B:

Let’s do 1 more game.

Kazunari:

Okay!

It’s been awhile since I played billiard, it’s so fun~

Friend A:

By the way, Kazu, the drink’s gone. Should we order more?

Kazunari:

Ah, it’s fine, I ordered it earlier!

???:

… Sorry for the wait.

Kazunari:

Thankz… Eh, what!? Isn’t it Massu!

Masumi:

…Why are you here.

<Short Time Skip>

Kazunari:

I didn’t expect Massu to be working part time here~!

Even if it’s just for a limited time, I’m quite jealous that you can work in such a fashionable place like this!

Masumi:

… It’s annoying. Just go back quickly.

Kazunari:

It’s fine isn’t it, just for a bit.

It’s not often that I got the chance to admire Massu in working mode.

???:

What what, Masumi-kun’s friend?

Aren’t you cute~!

Ah, I’m the store manager, Nishiki.

You can call me Nikki though~!

Kazunari:

I’m Kazunari Miyoshi! Yoropico!

Nishiki:

That’s a good one~!

I think we can get along well, no?

Kazunari:

Right~! Nice to meet you, Nikki!

Nishiki:

Oui!

Masumi:

… Sigh.

<Shifts to Dorm>

Banri:

Hee, so it was Masumi’s part time place.

Kazunari:

Yep yep! What a coincidence~

The atmosphere’s great too, let’s go there sometime soon!

It’s been awhile since I played billiard, I think I might get into it again~

Even I feel like doing it now!

It would be great if we can easily play billiard in the dorm huh~

Banri:

It sounds like it’s just going to make it noisier…

Kazunari:

I want to get a billiard table, but it seems that Frooch-san will get angry at me if I buy something like that…

It seems to be very expensive too~

Banri:

That goes without saying.

Tasuku:

Settsu, you’re here.

Banri:

Yeah, what is it, Tasuku-san.

Tasuku:

I finished fixing the wristwatch from last time.

Banri:

Oh, thank you.

Kazunari:

As expected of Tax! The Dorm’s Repair Club!

Banri:

It’s really helpful to have Tasuku-san around to fix stuffs.

Isn’t it about time for you to try making something more authentic like DIY?

Tasuku:

Don’t be crazy.

Kazunari:

--!

Tasuku:

What is it, Miyoshi.

Kazunari:

You’re right, there’s that way too!

<End of Part 1>

Director:

(The meeting took longer than expected. It’s already this late)

???:

…

Director:

(Eh, that guy walking over here is…)

Sakyo-san!

Sakyo:

Ah, Director-san huh.

Are you going back to the dorm too?

Director:

Yeah! Good work today.

<Shifts to Front Door>

Director:

Phew…

???:

--!

Director:

… The lounge seems to be very lively.

Sakyo:

They’re as noisy as usual.

Director:

Ahaha. But, it’s good to be on good terms with each other isn’t it.

Sakyo:

Even so, there should be a limit to everything.

Director:

(It’s true, I feel that they’re more lively than usual…)

<Shifts to Lounge>

Director:

I’m home…

Citron:

Oh, it’s my win!

Tenma:

Damn it… One more time!

Director:

!?

(Th, there’s a billiard table in the lounge…!?)

Sakyo:

… What’s this thing.

Kazunari:

Ah, welcome back the two of you~ We’ve been waiting!

Director:

Kazunari-kun!? What happened here, that outfit…

Kazunari:

It’s good right?

I got Yukki to make it for me~!

Yuki:

I just remade it with whatever we have here.

Kazunari:

No matter what, I want to play billiard with everyone in the dorm~!

I asked for it for the sake of building up the atmosphere.

Sakyo:

Where did you get the money to get the complete set and the tools.

Kazunari:

I asked Tax and Chikachon to make the billiard table~!

They made it really seriously, it really looks like the real thing right?

Director:

This is handmade? Amazing…!

Yuki:

In the end, Tasuku and Chikage were pretty enthusiastic about this too.

Director:

Su, surprisingly excited huh…

Kazunari:

I borrowed the cues and balls from a college friend~

That’s why, it cost almost no money at all!

No matter what, I want to try playing billiard in dorm.

I started asking people for various things and it become serious along the way.

Director:

As expected of the communication guy…

Citron:

Kazu’s amazing!

Because of him, we can play bowling too!

Yuki:

It’s wrong in so many levels that I can’t even cut in with a tsukkomi.

Kazunari:

By the way, this original billiard table by Mankai’s Repair Club, it will light up if you manage to get the ball in!

Citron:

As expected of Tasuku and Chikage, they have such a playful spirit!

Tenma:

What kind of function is that even.

Kazunari:

Well but, it cost no money and it’s easy to play, it’s the best!

Sakyo:

Geez… You’re quite cunning when it comes to playing around.

Director:

But, it looks fun, maybe it’s actually fine.

Kazunari:

So so, Kazunari Miyoshi presents!

Mankai dorm’s billiard competition, commences!

<End of Part 2>

[raiokori]

He remembers being excited as his mother walked with him down to a friend’s house. 

They’d met in kindergarten, if he remembers right, and had hit it off well enough to warrant a get together outside of the controlled school setting. It was his first real playdate with another kid, so he was a bundle of excitement and nervous as he held tight to his mother’s hand. Usually, when his mother had errands to run, Mashirao was left with his grandparents, so getting to play with a friend on top of going to a new place was making him bouncy. 

It was only going to be for an hour or two, but that would be plenty of time for the two boys to wear themselves out. They were greeted warmly at the door by the other boy’s mother, and then rather bombastically by the other boy himself -- which was a nice distraction, really, as Mashirao still didn’t particularly like being left anywhere by his parents, even if he was excited about it.

The other boy was quick to trundle the both of them into his room, blabbing and gesturing to different toys or games that they could play with. He was a lot noisier outside of class, but it was sort of an infectious attitude; easy to get swept up in, and carried along for the ride.

It was fun. They were in their own little world for a good hour.

“Hey, wanna see our cat?”

He’d blinked at the sudden question, because he had been plenty entertained with the toys they’d been goofing around with, but it seemed his friend had gotten bored and wanted to move on to something else. 

Cats were nice, though, so what could go wrong?

“Okay!”

Their cat was this small but round, black and white bobtail. It was sleeping, curled up tight, on a cat bed by the window; the warm sun soaked into its fur, green-yellow eyes squinted shut in pleasurable rest.

Mashirao had been content to just watch it from a distance, but his friend wanted to play with it. 

“Aw, well, I know what always gets him up!” the boy had pouted, tromping over to a little basket of neatly arranged cat toys and digging around until he procured one in particular. 

The little toy hadn’t gotten the cat’s attention, but it had sure grabbed Mashirao’s. While it was dulled a bit by having been left out for some time, the scent was still entrancing to him. Tail wagging behind him, he’d made a less than calculated leap at the other boy, knocking the both of them over and resulting into a bit of a wrestling match over the toy. 

It was sort of fun, at first. They were both laughing, playing a game of keep away essentially.

Until he’d gotten frustrated and extended his claws out to try and swipe for the catnip toy. His friend gasped at the sudden pain, dropping the toy and watching for a stunned moment as blood welled up awfully fast in the gashes on the back of his hand.

So, like any six year old would do, he let out a sobbing scream for his mother while Mashirao was none the wiser, distracted by the toy he finally had a hold of.

His mother had been called back to pick him up in an outraged panic by his friend’s mother. It was an incredibly uncomfortable wait for Mashirao, as the effects from the catnip only lasted so long. He didn’t remember what had happened at the time for things to go so badly when everything seemed to be going well, so he’d stood in the hallway by the front door; tears streaking down his cheeks, tail wrapped anxiously around his leg, blood on his fingers that had gone tacky. He could still hear the other boy crying in another room. The boy’s mother was on the phone, talking in sharp, harsh words that didn’t entirely make sense to him through the blood pounding in his ears.

The walk home wasn’t nearly as fun. 

He never went back over to that boy’s house. They ended up going to different elementary schools, anyway. He couldn’t even remember the kid’s name.

His mother had to explain what happened once he’d calmed down. She told him it hadn’t been his fault. 

Mashirao made sure to cut his claws down regularly after that, though. 

---

He was nine or ten, playing at one of the parks near his complex. It wasn’t especially large, but it was kept up nicely and there was always an eclectic group of kids to play with until he had to go home for the day. 

It was a good way to burn off extra energy after school, so long as he let his parents know he was going to stop there. 

Games of tag or soccer that seemed to go on forever, with everyone whooping at whatever score they got, while no one ever actually kept a tally of who technically won. Silly games that changed weekly as kids swarmed the play structure. 

His favorite were the climbing bars, though. There were a bunch of different designs scattered around the boundaries of the park, so it wasn’t repetitive. Mashirao enjoyed the muscle burn that came from traversing them, or just from simply hanging off the bars. There was also something satisfying about dropping off them and into the woodchips below the structures. It was one of the only structures he could really mess around on while using his tail effectively.

He had been hanging upside down by his tail, flexing the long appendage to move up and down a little bit in order to make the topsy-turvy world bob, when he heard laughter off to the side. It wasn’t unusual on its own, but the laughter was followed up by a cheerful but still slightly needling call of, “Monkey boy! Monkey boy!”

Blood was already rushing to his head, so it was easy enough to say that’s why his face was red, but that was just a half-truth.

“I-- I’m not a monkey!” he puffed back in response, tail curling tighter around the bar he was holding onto. 

“You look like a monkey, hanging there like that! If it has a tail, it’s a monkey!”

He could feel his ears burning, a heat that scorched his face and the back of his neck. That wasn’t fair! How was that fair? There were plenty of kids who had tails out there, and he bet most of them weren’t monkeys! Besides, anyone could hang off the bars like this with their legs, so did that make them monkeys, too? Or was it just him, because he could do it with his tail?

Eventually, the pounding in his head got to be a little too much, so he swung back up, grabbing onto another bar with his hands, before landing on his feet with the soft crunch of woodchips. His face was a splotchy red as blood started to circulate again, leaving nothing but his indignant flush behind.

“I’m not a monkey,” he repeated firmly, tail held stiffly behind him, the tuft of fur at the end poofed out in agitation. “I’m a lion!” He’d tried to make himself look bigger, chest puffed out all prideful.

That outburst just earned him another round of laughs.

“Lions can’t climb with their tails!”

“Your tail looks too weird to be a cat’s!”

“Liar! You’re just embarrassed!”

He wasn’t a monkey. He was a lion. He was a lion, he was a lion, he was a lion. He knew he was. His father was, so he had to be. His parents proudly told him what he was, what their family had built over generations of Quirks.

So why...

Why was that so hard to see in himself? For others to see? Why didn’t he look like his father more? No one would tease him about it then, or call him names. People didn’t poke fun at a lion. They respected it.

He stopped going to that park after school.

---

He was fifteen, and on the train to UA. It was finally time for the entrance exams, and he was excited. And a bit nervous, but he was trying to focus more on the excitement more than anything else. 

He had a good chunk of time to calm his nerves, anyway. And it was pretty soothing to listen to the train--

Something tugged sharply at the fur on his tail, making him reflexively twitch it out of the way before he had a chance to see what had done it.

The high pitched, ear piercing cries of a baby hit him like a wave of broken glass.

As soon as he realized, Mashirao was quick to apologize to the child’s mother -- who wasn’t really upset per se, but the kid was crying pretty loudly and they were stuck on the train. 

“I’m really, really very sorry,” he repeated, frazzled, not entirely sure what he should do to help or if he should even help. It was his fault, though, so he should try to fix it.

“It’s fine, she’ll calm down--” the woman tried to wave him off, tutting softly to the little girl in a vain attempt to quiet her.

It wasn’t working.

Shuffling his weight back and forth for a hesitant moment, Mashirao eventually dangled the soft tip of his tail in front of the crying child again, trying not to flinch when grabby hands immediately went for it. Some kids were very nice when touching his tail, but this girl was still pretty young, so she couldn’t really help it. Her crying subsided into pleased, gurgling noises; chubby fingers twisting around his fur, tugging and yanking and pulling. 

It was uncomfortable. Her hands were sticky. Despite being a baby, she seemed to know how much force to use in order to yank some of the hairs out, giggling all the while.

The girl’s mother sighed with relief. 

She didn’t say thank you. Mashirao blinked away reaction tears when another painful tug was given to his tail. The girl laughed and blew raspberries at him. The train clicked along at its steady pace. Light flashed by through the window.

He had just enough time to try and suss out the fur on his tail before the exams started.

But, it was fine. Trials and tribulations, and his were pretty small at that.

That’s what a Hero put up with to do good in the world, right?

[thebonggirll]

Chapter 13 - The U.A. Sports Festival

Chapter 12

SEASON - I

The media was as good as expected. The U.A. students weren't able to leave properly as journalists swarmed around, trying to get any of them to interview but the police force interrupted and made sure they got out of their sight.

Y/N went back home almost with a heavy heart - not only because of the recent hectic event but also because of a realization - she had a crush on Bakugou. Her parents arrived home earlier that day after hearing the news and surprisingly, she got a call from her brother as well. He was mostly occupied and had a busy schedule.

The news displayed a picture of her along with her friends. "Oh my god, we didn't expect you to be on the news so fast. I'm already getting calls from relatives and colleagues!" Her mother exclaimed as they watched the television during dinner time. Y/N gave them a half-hearted smile and went to bed quickly that day.

She knew what the cost of liking Bakugou is going to be like. He, for one, will avoid her at all cost and even the little amount of friendship they had will go down the drain. Being the loud-mouthed person he is, he's probably gonna blurt it out while insulting her and every single person will know about it.

But that was gonna happen only if he came to know about it.

The next day Y/N skipped her practice and went to school directly. The classroom was noisier than usual...or maybe Y/N was just quieter than usual.

"Hey Y/N," Midoriya called her from behind, "You are...okay right?"

She sighed and turned around, "Oh yeah, I'm great. I'm just kind of...moody today."

"Honestly, I was surprised that the media didn't immediately talk about you, knowing your family background." He said.

"Very few people know about me studying in here and those who wanted to release it as a hot topic were taken care of by the PR Team." she said, as she was closely observed by Kyoka. Y/N looked at her while she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

"You guys!" Toru exclaimed, "Did you watch the news last night? It was so cool that we got a few seconds of screen time. Though I bet nobody noticed me hanging out in the background."

"Probably not." Shoji said. He didn't want to be mean but sometimes he can be really dense. Ojiro tried to fix his friend's mistake and said, "It was difficult to stand out when you're just gloves."

Kaminari leaned back and added, "We're totally big deals. Those news channels love us, we are basically celebrities."

Kyoka on the other hand, rolled her eyes and said, "Get over yourselves. The hero course that pumps up pros was attacked and that's what they cared about."

"Who knows what would've happened to us if the teachers hadn't shown up." Sero said.

Mineta immediately panicked and shouted, "Why did you say that?! I'm gonna pee myself just by thinking about it!"

"OH SHUT UP! GROW A PAIR LOSER!!!" Bakugou yelled. His eyes fixed on Y/N a moment later. He wasn't sure about it but it felt like Y/N was...avoiding looking at him. He obviously noticed it when she kept looking at him for the past few days, so it wasn't a surprise how he noticed this too.  

"Well why do I even care." Bakugou thought and looked forward, grumpily.

Aizawa entered the class some time later making the whole class gasp, "Mr. Aizawa what are you doing here?!"

Iida stood up and said, "Mr. Aizawa I'm glad you're okay!"

"My well being is irrelevant. What's more important is that your fight isn't over yet. The U.A. sports festival is about to start." Mr. Aizawa said and then proceeded to talk about it.

The U.A. Sports Festival is the most watched sporting event. Students from each grade and every course compete among each other in their respective age groups. The event begins with preliminary elimination rounds, those who pass moving up to compete in the main event. Each stage has a teacher as a chief referee, with the usually overseeing the senior stage.

Once the event concludes, Pro Heroes from any agency can nominate the students that earned their attention, as an expression of interest in their future potential. However, these nominations can be dropped by the time the student reaches graduation, should the Hero lose interest in them.

As the classes came to an end and they were getting ready to leave, something unexpected happened.

Outside Class 1-A, students from other classes were blocking the way of exit.

"Um..why the heck are you all here?" Ochaco finally broke the silence.

"Do you students have some sort of business with our class?" Iida asked.

"Why are you blocking our doorway? I won't let you hold us hostage!" Mineta said.

While some students were confused and a bit scared, Bakugou was, as usual, a smartass about it. "They're scouting out the competition idiots. We're the class that survived a real villain attack. They wanted to see with their own eyes." He walked towards the exit in front of the students and said, "Atleast now you know what a future pro looks like. Now move it, extras."

The class started panicking hearing him as Iida yelled, "You can't just call people extras just because you don't know who they are."

Y/N on the other hand, just started accepting the fact that she had a crush on Bakugou, and was finally able to look at him - not directly at his eyes though. She hated to admit it but even his stupid arrogance was getting a bit likable to her. "Atleast he's honest and not pretentious about the competition." She thought.

"I heard you guys were impressive, but you just sound like an ass. Is everyone in the hero course delusional or just you?" A guy in purple hair walked through the crowd and came in front of Bakugou. And going by the 'grunt' that Bakugou released immediately, he was definitely pissed.

"It's sad to come here and find a bunch of ego maniacs. I wanted to be in a hero course, but like many others here I was forced to choose a different track," the guy paused for a moment and then continued, "such as life. I didn't cut it the first time, but I have another chance. If any of us do well in the sports festival then teachers can decide to transfer us to the hero course. And they've to transfer people out to make room. Scouting the competition? Maybe some of my peers are but I'm here to let you know that if you don't bring your very best, I'll steal your spot right from under you. Consider this a declaration of war."

"Well thanks for the motivation I guess." Y/N scoffed.

"Shut up!" A guy from the back started yelling and then called out Bakugou, "Hey you! I am from Class 1-B next door to you! We heard that you fought some villains and I came to see if that was true! But you're just a bunch of brats who thinks that they're better than us!" Bakugou ignored him and started walking out. Clearly, it felt like everyone hated Class 1-A.

"Dude where are you going?! You gotta say something! It's your fault that they're hating on us Bakugou!" Kirishima tried to stop him.

"These people don't matter. The only thing that matters is that I beat them." Bakugou replied and exited from the chaos.

While everyone was talking about how he was right and manly, Y/N's ears slowly turned red hearing him. It felt like she was blushing way often now that she knew about her feelings. "Ugh why is he suddenly so..."

charming.

After a while everyone started leaving. Y/N thought it would be best if she left after a while. She won't be able to handle talking to Bakugou all of a sudden without her face changing colours.

On her way to home though, she saw the purple haired guy near the gates of school. She wasn't a person who liked to talk much and especially to unknown guys who declared war, but at this moment, she felt like she should - ofcourse she had a selfish reason behind it. She didn't want everyone to hate their class, and if talking to him made any difference, she was ready to do it. "Um, hey."

He turned back, facing her and replied, "Yes?"

"My name is Y/N, from..Class 1-A?" She cautiously started talking.

Alarmed, he furrowed his eyebrows and asked, "What do you need?"

"N-nothing..just. Please don't judge every one of us because of one person who was being arrogant. Um..to be fair, atleast he wasn't being fake?"

"Feels like you are though."

It irked Y/N a bit but she decided to talk things through calmly instead, "No, just...it felt like you were accusing us for being in the hero course because you weren't."

Okay, that wasn't a good way to calm things down.

"Uh I mean-"

"Many of us are in another course because you guys. It's not just me." He turned to walk away.

"I-I know. But to be honest we worked hard. So atleast in my case, I am not sorry about it. Wait! is that itachi on your homescree...uh what's your name again?"

".....I am not telling you my name."

"Okay...it's alright. I wish you the very best! Work hard...I guess? And...try not to hate us. Atleast, after the hero course we can hang out maybe? I see you like anime! We..we can bond over that!" Y/N said and then muttered the next words, "No one wants to watch anime with me. Apparently, it's childish."

"......are you asking me out or something."

Y/N's face flushed in embarrassment as she shook her head and said, "Oh my god, I'm so sorry! I-I didn't mean it as a date! A-as friends! Just friends!"

".....leave me alone."

"Oh okay. Uh, bye! Best of luck!" She said and left, trying her best not to feel awkward.

The purple haired guy watched her walk away. An emotion surfaced that he didn't feel for a long time. Maybe because he was also an arrogant person and he wasn't aware about it until Y/N unknowingly made him realize it .

The embarrassment he felt wasn't the one that was demeaning his quirk in any way. Now that was a first for him. He couldn't remember the last time he felt something else to be embarrassed about other than his quirk.

"Guess I got a bit too cocky huh."

Chapter 14

SEASON - II

Ignite

MASTERLIST

[glitterdammerung]

of course it makes sense from a show writing perspective to have the next season be Arthur’s.

1) It gives the girl squad a break (and us a break from them). Season 4 was rough for fandom and I’m sure the actresses caught their fair share of shit for the storyline mess that was beyond their control. I think it is a good thing to get the focus off of them and let folks on all sides breathe.

2) Arthur is more or less a blank slate (apart from that bizarre “dated a MUCH older woman” thing, good lord). There is no OG storyline to be drawn from. There are no predictions or expectations we can have based on the OG. We can’t get worked up about any questionable deviations from the original series storyline because there ISN’T an original series storyline. Perhaps the writers think they’ll get a break from the noisier parts of fandom (they’d be underestimating just how easily a fandom can find things to get excitable about, but that’s their problem and not at all mine).

3) It probably feels like real freedom for the writers to create their very own SKAM character from scratch. They went from strict adherence in seasons one and two, to a bit of loosening of the reins in three and four - and now they’re on their own. I hope they do something interesting with it.

4) The whole team is probably excited for the chance to make SKAM France feel as fresh and unanticipated as the OG did, at last. And it’s nice for the fandom to get a truly fresh season as well. We’ve gotten to experience a bit of it with all the remakes with the changes they’ve made, but this is huge, this is full story blindness. How exciting is that? We haven’t been so fully in the dark with any remake yet. Maybe that will be revitalizing, maybe it can reset us back to the pure joy/stress of not knowing what’s going to happen.

In conclusion:

[blackarmyslave]

//déjà vu//

And once again, I’m late *sigh* Anyways, here’s Day 3 for Ray’s appreciation week! I honestly had no idea what to right josnxdjbvt

@ikerev-appreciation

➵ Theme: Spellbound

➵ Pairing: Ray/Reide & Alice/Charlotte (you’ll see~)

➵ Genre: Fluff

➵ Word count: 1350 words

A burning passion, raging worse than wildfires, consuming her very soul and drowning her heart in it. 

That would be figure skating for Charlotte.

Born into a family that had, in their own separate times and sport, joined the Olympics, Charlotte knew from the moment she could walk she’d have to decide on her own sport. Balance beam? No, she sucked at it. Archery? Oh, her aunt would be infuriated and just accuse her of being a copycat. Badminton? No, not quite. Athletics? Why, how she hated running.

Figure skating... now that was her match.

The moment Charlotte’s feet had a taste of skating shoes, she knew it was just right. Not quite tight like running shoes, and oddly warm against her soles despite being in the ice for hours. Well, of course it had made her feet go numb from the cold several times, but something about being in those particular kind of shoes made it much more... appetizing.

She drowned in the feeling of gliding across polished ice for hours, the sound of blades cutting through the thick frozen floor buzzing pleasantly in her core, soul dancing in sync with the piano music she’d skate to. For years and years on end, Charlotte trained and trained. Practicing twirls and acrobatics and leaps and telling a story through her every moment. From every tilt of her head down to how much she’d bend her body to the left of right, Charlotte learned how to make her heart dance.

Today, in the neighboring city’s skating rink, she drowned once more in her fiery passion. La Terre Vue Du Ciel was playing; a favorite piece of Charlotte, while she was practicing on how to nail to a Quad Salchow. It’s been going on for almost a week now and her progress was quite impressive for anyone - anyone but herself.

An impatient perfectionist, and frustrated with how many times she’d been doing this already, the girl momentarily lost focus. One foot landed rigidly and caused her balance to fall.

‘Ninth time this day,’ she growled at herself.

Charlotte pushed her blonde-brown hair out of her face and huffed. The pain of the fall ignored almost completely by her every muscle by now. Blue eyes normally filled with burning passion have now been replaced by hate - hate directed at none other than herself. Yet unbeknownst to her, a pair of green eyes half-covered by a mop of dark hair had been watching by the sidelines. He was wearing a simple enough outfit: jeans with a winter jacket and gloves, earphones plugged in one ear and blasting Green Day, silently watching the lone skater who was not contented by her crazy-high level of talent.

Well, not just that, actually.

Something about her seemed familiar to him. The moment he walked into the building, he’d been drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Her aura soft yet powerful, like a queen; elegant, unyielding, bewitching. The way she was bending her body as if she was effortlessly cutting through the wind, her fair hair flowing like ocean waves, every flick of the finger in perfect sync with every piano key... it grasped his foot and held him there in place before he can even take a seat. Her entire presence a magnet stronger than any other, forbidding him from looking away.

The only word to describe him: spellbound.

Right now, watching her try again once more, he found his own heart racing, rooting for her, silently wanting her to nail that jump she so badly craved for. With her every spin and every sway of her body, she seemed more ethereal, like a light that captivated him, and never had he been quite as frozen and confused as he was right now.

He definitely knew her. Something in the back of his mind had been screaming that. In some time, somehow, wherever that might have been. He was so sure of it.

Something abut her passionate blue eyes startled him, because it was like looking at someone he knew almost as well as himself. Her hair, a mix of brown and blonde, was so familiar like he’d stared at someone with the exact shade of hair color for countless times a day. Her skin tone, her petite body, how beautifully curved those eyelashes were... too familiar. So familiar it was spellbinding - and frightening, at the same time.

But how could he have forgotten such a person?

Could it be when he had visited London back in 2015? Or was she classmates with him back in middle school? Had they bumped into each other at the Louvre last month?

‘No, no..! Something else.’ They just didn’t seem right. Unconsciously, he began snapping his fingers, wracking his brain for an answer. Even just a clue. She was so familiar yet unfamiliar at the same time. Something, something...

“Oh my gosh. can your fingers be any noisier?”

“...Huh?”

He’d been pulled from his ocean of thoughts by a voice - a voice that was also too familiar. A voice that soothed and bothered him all the same. Yet he didn’t have much time to ponder. The skater was now just meters away from him, an irritated look on her face, perfectly pink lips forming a pout that he felt like he’d already seen before.

‘For real, this is freaking me out now. Just who is she?’ he thought.

“My bad,” he amended.

She looked at him from his boots to the single earphone plugged in his left ear, and her eyebrows furrowed. Her eyes mirrored his own; confused. With that affirming his suspicion of knowing one another, he couldn’t hold back a smile.

“You too, huh?”

She seemed to snap out of it, replying, “What?”

“You seemed familiar to me - very familiar. I was actually snapping my fingers ‘cause I was trying to remember where I’d seen you, but... nada. I guess you feel the same way, too?”

“Well... Actually, yeah,” she admitted after two beats, eyes softening from a steely, defensive blue to a calm one. Shivers ran down his spine. And this time, he knew it was from the way she looked at him and not the icy stadium.

“Do you know, then? Where we met, I mean.” 

“Doesn’t matter,” she shrugged. “If we both can’t remember, it was either unimportant or an unpleasant experience.” imma just hint at some angst here dont mind me

“Ouch. Sharp tongue, ain’t ya,” he smirked.

“Or you’re just a softie.”

For a long time, he left out a chuckle, green eyes narrowing to curve to a happy smile. It surprised both him and the girl. He’d never felt so relaxed around a stranger. And never had someone’s laugh make her heart twinge, like it was a sound her soul had been unknowingly searching for.

‘It’s official. I need to know who this handsome bastard-- I mean this little shit, is.’

“So, who might you be? Harry Potter? Ray Blackwell?”

His eyebrows rose. “Ray who now?”

“Just the black-haired, green-eyed guy Alice ended up with in the book Alice in Wonderland II.” Her blue eyes danced in amusement.

He just let out a snort. “Sorry, but I’m not a wizard nor do I know someone named Alice. The name’s Reide.”

“Fair enough. I’m Charlotte.”

A handshake was shared between the two, and although both hid it well, neither can deny that a spark electrified them. Not just their skin but also a part of their soul. Like how a once dormant part of them them came back to life without being aware that it was dormant in the first place. Messy and confusing, it had been, knowing they’d met before but not really remembering when or where. Both familiar yet a stranger in the other’s eyes at the same time.

But both were just contented right now, being simply comfortable with the other’s presence, and knowing their name - even if it’s only the first name. Who knows? Maybe Reide will visit the rink again, and Charlotte can talk to him. Maybe they’ll be friends through a bit of drinking.

Or even something more.

Like how it had been in another world, in another time.

[tarithenurse]

All is fair in Love & War - 16

Pairing: Loki x reader Content: Probably a lot of spelling/writing errors as my brain doesn’t work, but I still wanted to post. And then the usual like pining, angsting, caring, scheming, wanting revenge, bad eating manners (nothing detailed), daring stunts, maybe cursing, death. Might have forgotten something. A/N: I’ve taken the liberty of tagging people who seem to follow, but if you do/don’t want a tag pls let me know. Tags at bottom of post.

16. In the dark of the night

As the columns loom above you, stretching toward a grey sky as they hold up a triangular façade decorated with scenes of the miracles attributed to that faith. It is not the religion that was practiced in the village you grew up. There, the focus was on very practical faith in the sense that prayers were sent to any deity willing to grant a good harvest or protect the miners from accidents. The temple in which darkness is shattered by candles and colourful fabrics is a place for big miracles which explains the steady stream of people coming and going. You recognize the tired expression on their faces, the desperate hunger in their eyes. It is not the first place you visit, and each holy sight held the same subdued sadness. Hopelessness.

“Lady [Y/N],” someone addresses you softly, “what brings you here?”

It is a temple priest, wrapped in the faded blue signaling his position within the order. The skin is lined as a result of caring for too many too long, and the hair on the part of his skull that has not been shaven is greying, making you think of plants withering in dead soil – too stubborn to die, yet malnourished. Most importantly, however, is the kindness radiating from him as if it could heat the air and welcoming anyone wishing to approach him like you do know.

Röskva is trailing behind you, keeping an appropriate distance to maintain the role as handmaid and mistress, but you know she is listening in on every word. Why should she not? No one in Midgard knows that she speaks their language.

“Father…?” You hesitate, feigning uncertainty in how to address the man, and he nods in approval. “What would a visit to a foreign culture be if the guest did not learn of every aspect.” Again, the slight not urges you on. “The holy houses of my homelands are of importance to us…yet I dare say not even the biggest temples see such a traffic as this.”

Sighing heavily, the father beckons you to follow. “Our people is…despite what you may hear at the palace…” As if tasting the words carefully before spitting them out, he chews on his tongue and lips for a moment. “The people suffers. War brings losses and casualty, that’s the nature of strife…but as oth-other problems are added and there’s no relief…where else can they turn to than the gods?”

“Hope, guidance and solidarity is food for the soul.” Take the hint.

He scans the corner of the temple aula where he has brought you. “What we need’s real food though. Clothes. Medicine to treat the illnesses that come with deprivation and poverty.” A fear flickers in his gentle eyes. “This war’s claimed to be for the people…the people win nothing, and the enemy’s false!”

“So…it is as I feared…” You do not have to act sad although it is a struggle to hide the victorious feeling surging through in the veins at the priest’s words. “If only someone could restore peace and care for the people…”

Leaning in conspiratorially, there is no hope in his face. “Several people have been deemed fit for the latter…the problem lies in the former part of the challenge.”

…

The tiny bottle gleams in the candlelight, the liquid within seemingly absorbing any light passing thorough the tinted glass which makes it appear like the Void itself. You have to handle it with care, never once removing the thin leather gloves that have been treated with wax. Just a few drops. The contents could kill everyone in the palace if mixed into the wine, but no…such a tactic is too risky because sometimes the servants enjoy a sip in secrecy. Thankfully, there are safer ways.

…   LOKI’s PoV   …

A new snowstorm rages, keeping the brothers inside the sheltering walls of Utgard. While Thor is enjoying the steamy bath facility and mulled wine while joking with all the servants, Loki has retreated to a painfully familiar room. This far from the kitchens, the keep is quiet. No voices or (because of the Asgardian brother) warbled singing is chasing away the winds’ howling or the echoes of memories, conversations spoken when the mood was bolder.

There is an uneasiness that has taken root in Loki’s heart the last hours, a restless worry that distracts his actions and guides every thought to the south where he knows he cannot go. Hands fold and unfold the grey shawl that used to hold the soothing scent of his little mortal but now smells of nothing else than wool. Maybe a bit of pine needles. Looking to the dresser, he sees that new twigs have been placed in a jug of water without his command – the servants have found their own ways of honouring [Y/N]’s memory and one of them is to not abandon the room as if it were out of use. This will not be her chambers when she returns. When. It is a small word that somehow has become incredibly powerful, causing Loki to cling to it because it is the only bastion against the dreaded “if”.

…   READER’s PoV   …

It has taken some planning and sweettalking to arrange for all of the Vanir in your company to be occupied elsewhere tonight. None of them are without at least three Midgardian witnesses. Although Röskva was visibly distressed at the knowledge of why it is necessary, she still went peacefully with a few of the maids under the pretence of teaching them how you want your meal the next day. Likewise, the men have gone to train in the barracks where it is certain that plenty of the castle’s soldiers will see them.

In other words: you are on your own.

Black clothing, soft leather shoes, the belt with tools of your new trade. All of it is fitting snuggly, giving you a sense of comfort as you sneak through the empty paths within the castle walls. Up and up you go, the directions memorized and tested several times to minimize the risk of mistakes, the time it takes to get from one place to the other…and to ensure you know how to hide from any possible pursuers. Crouching behind the shift in the wall, you fight down an eager to hurry. Take the time needed…wait for the snoring.

By the time you slip out from behind the pink and white panel to land silently on the marble floor, it once again makes sense to you why the king and queen of Midgard sleep in separate chambers: that woman is noisier than a rockslide! Still, the racket she produces now is nothing compared to her shrieks when she found out the servants took the discarded food and distributed it among the poor on their way home. Apparently, the queen would have preferred the waste to be burned or left to rot while the rats gorged themselves than see the hungry fed in the dead of the winter. The thought alone makes your fingers itch and shake with anger as you slip on the gloves.

There hinges on the door are perfectly oiled, granting you a silent entry to the bedroom where a single oil lamp is turned down low under the mother-of-pearl cap, illuminating the canopy. A cocoon of silk obscuring the target until you pull it aside slowly, carefully. And there lies the queen in her “peaceful” slumber. Ha! There lies the wicked witch…but even that analogy does little to steel your nerves as you pull out the vial and twist the cork out with shaking hands.

…   LOKI’s PoV   …

None of the food or drinks are tasteful to the host although Thor thoroughly is enjoying the feast. One would think that being a prince, raised in the Asgardian court, would provide a strict set of table manners…in fact Loki knows that it is not for the lack of Frigga’s patience that the older brother still eats as though he has starved for days. Normally it would bother the Jotun king immensely. Not tonight.

I should have left right away. Of course, the winter weather is not a deterrent for a Jotun, but it is for a mount. Traversing half the country (or what feels like it) on foot will take longer than waiting for the storm to pass and then ride. If only Heimdal…angrily pushing the thought aside, Loki drains his glass while considering half-heartedly what curses to cast upon the Keeper of the Bridge, his brother, his mother, anyone who has a hand in creating the distance between him and [Y/N].

Who would have thought that a simple mortal could gain such power over him? Hundreds of years have passed where he answered to no one and nothing but his own (sometimes questionable) conscience, where he did as he pleased without concern for the days to come. Much of that had already changed when Loki learned the truth of his origins, causing him to seek revenge on slights be they imagined or real, but that too is naught but a shadow compared to the responsibility and the connection he feels with this unassuming woman. The love and joy she has brought him is far too precious to lose.

Love is a wicked game. And still…Loki never plays a game that he does not intent to win.

…   READER’s PoV   …

The rattling sigh is still echoing in your ears as a ghost’s clamouring accusation when you reach a narrow window at the end of a darkened passage. The air is cold and crisp, caressing your face as you lean out to spot the balcony above that has been reduced to a black silhouette against a starry sky. Like icy crystals. For a few seconds, it is possible to imagine that you are watching the winter night from a different window, and it calms your thumping heart a fraction.

Rough rope skitters through your gloved hand. Upwards in a steep arch until the distant clink sounds, causing you to freeze with the stomach in a knot and pricking in down the back of the legs from fear that someone will have heard and come running. But nothing happens, and the delicate task of securing a grip with the tri-hook can commence.

It takes far too long, it seems, before you swing your legs over the balcony railing and allow yourself to lie flat on the cold stones. Sweat cools on contact, sending shivers through your leaden limbs. Or is the shaking from the exertion? It hardly matters right now, and either way it is a blessed distraction as your mind has somewhat quieted while you were dangling over an impenetrable darkness. Down below is the moat, dug to allow the nearby lake’s waters run around the castle’s perimeter as an extra fortification, but the water may as well have been a world away, invisible and only present in the mind. A sigh whispers by your years. Just the wind, nothing else.

It is time to focus on the task at hand and you push yourself onto your weak knees and from there to your feet although in a crouch. The metal of slender lockpicks tick against each other as you set to work, and a surge of pride warms you moments later when the lock clicks, allowing your access to king Gorm’s private chambers.

Hidden between the drapes, you take in the surroundings for the first time and are pleased to see how accurate the servants’ descriptions have been. A wardrobe with painted carvings and bigger than any single piece of furniture you have ever seen, the chaise lounge full of fluffy pillows all of which is standing next to an actual glass table with golden legs! And that is not even the half of it…but by then your eyes are glued to the shape partially visible through the velvet canopy’s crooked drapes. Already the little vial with the dark poison is resting in your palm.

There is no raging battle in your heart this time. Maybe there should be. Perhaps you have grown evil, becoming one of these individuals that you have taken upon yourself to rid the world of and shying no means to reach whichever goal you deem appropriate. This isn’t for my sake. It is a weak argument and you know it. Standing here is a direct result of the life you have lived and the sufferings you have seen. Of course, you could have decided to remain safe and sound in Utgard while pretending all is good…but then you would have had to live with a lie and a burdened conscience. If I was still here, I’d want someone to save us from the tyrant. So is that it? Are you a saviour?

Frustrated, you push the thoughts away. I’m pass the point of no return. Instead you call forth the hard memories of losses and pain, of hunger and suffering, of the carelessness with which Gorm and his noble fellows spend the lives of the people as if they are cattle for slaughter. And now there is no doubt. Stowing the tiny bottle in its padded pouch, your fingers curl around the handle of the long, slender knife. Dying in his sleep is far too kind for the man sleeping in the bed across the room.

The soft padding of feet is swallowed by a plush carpet. No reaction to the rustle of the curtains can be seen or heard as you study the king’s face with its content little smile and the speckle of drool at the corner of the mouth.

A leather-gloved hand clamps over his mouth the second you plunge the blade in between his ribs. Startled, bloodshot eyes meet yours. The exact moment realization hits the king is obvious, and now the little smile is on your lips, your face hot with rage and pride.

“Before you die,” you whisper to his face, causing him to pause his struggles at the difference in your voice, “know that I once fought for you – now I know better.”

...

[kuvvydraws]

Gabriel (Good Omens) x Reader

The Chicken That Finally Crossed The Fucking Road

Chapter 2

*     

*

     Having someone move in with you within a day was an adventure, and one you wouldn’t want to partake in ever again.

     The easy part was the talk with your landlady, and the woman was happy that you were no longer living on your own with how dangerous London was for young people like you, gullible and vulnerable; her words, not yours. Her husband, on the other hand, found heavily immoral that your roommate was a man and that you both were single, and he made sure his opinion was listened by the whole neighbourhood.

      One would say that dealing with the people responsible of your housing was the difficult part. It was a difficult part indeed, just not the only one.

     Dealing with Gabriel was a Whole Thing on its own.

     You know those old people that have a hard time coping with technology and new stuff and just complain when nothing goes their way? That was Gabriel. While eager to learn, he behaved like every object was invented yesterday and everyone in the world got together in a secret meeting to learn how to handle it just so hey could spite him. You were sure he believed all the blenders from all the kitchens in the world were out there to get him. At least he was polite about it.

     Having him moving in was a poltergeist experience. He had no problem with the flat’s layout, and you, expecting some snide comment from his rich ass about your minuscule place of residence, felt much more at ease. The issue with his wardrobe was a bit more pressing. He had nothing but the clothing he was wearing the day you two had met, and that was more like a Trojan costume for a thematic party than anything else. It did match his old fashioned aura, and reinforced that feeling you had about him not belonging to any era in history, but that was about it.

      “Oh, the wardrobe shall be no problem at all” he said pleasantly. The very next day, when you came from work, he had his closet filled with the most expensive, most comfortable outfits you had seen in your whole life. Bitch clearly had in his possession a money tree.

      He wanted, he had told you just after settling in, the whole commoner experience. If you translate that into poor dialect, it meant that you had to accompany him to get every piece of the top notch technology available at the market. He was slightly familiar with cell phones and tablets, but computers turned out to be far trickier for him.

      He said he desired to start from point zero and you had no idea, at first, about what that implied. After seeing him fumble with the keyboard of his shiny new smartphone, you concluded that the guy didn’t even know what YouTube was. You wished you’d had a camera at hand when you had showed him, because his expression was priceless.

     A puppy with a new squeaky toy wouldn’t had been more excited.

      He also had the tendency to call you ‘human’ or ‘mortal’ instead of your name. You found this to be hilarious. He would add some dumb adjectives in front of it and seriously, it was like watching a pair of too sweet teens figuring out nicknames fused in one big, clueless businessman. His favourite so far was calling you ‘tiny’. Kind of unfair, yet very fair at the same time, since the top of your head barely brushed his shoulder.

     Cohabitating with Gabriel was easy, unsurprisingly. The moment he had learnt how the vacuum and the mop worked, your stress about the house being indecent midweek flew out of the window. Gabriel found great pleasure in organizing things. You had agreed on a common budget for food too, instead of separating the shelves inside the fridge and he had classified all the groceries by alphabetical and nutritional order. Of course, to be functional, you two now had to cook together.

      Gabriel had obvious issues with food. It was clear that he did not enjoy eating. The cooking process was another talk altogether though. It implied following established steps, times and measurements, and he had even bought a colourful apron for, what he said, was the proper attitude and mind set for cooking.

      That sentence, coming from the mouth of a man that hadn’t known what a whisk was three minutes prior,  made you cry in laughter. *

     You were incredibly useful, Gabriel discovered. Not only willing to provide with all the bothersome necessities his body now had, but with living quarters and explanations about what happened around him.

      It had been a long time since Gabriel had had to stay on Earth for more than a few hours, and the world had evolved in ways he couldn’t always comprehend. Things were faster, noisier or more silent, everywhere he went was crowded with people and the air smelled weird, congested his nose and, in some occasions, when he was too close to the back of a car of bus, it irritated his eyes.

     He was still getting used to the body, to the sensations and nerves and strange inner reactions and noises it would make. Being so far from divinity had also taken a toll on him, and due the forced tiredness he had to lay down on a bed -his bed now- and sleep. He wasn’t sure he liked sleeping. He didn’t dislike it per se, but he was aware that his surrounding were not part the real world, and that time was a mockery. He would remember moments of his angelic existence, mostly, but also dreamed with new, made up, things. He wasn’t sure he was comfortable with that.

     He didn’t sleep every night, and would spent his time reading or watching videos. You had books all over the flat, as if a library had exploded in the centre of the room. Some were in English, some were not. Those fascinated Gabriel. He could guess the general intentions when in a conversation with someone no matter the language, but reading was another matter. You also had no preference about topics, and the novels, encyclopaedias, dictionaries and collections of poems would mixt with the astronomy, art and engineering books right under the pot of that thick leaved  plant you had growing near the windows. After thoroughly dusting the area, Gabriel found the mess didn’t bother him that much.

     The nights he did sleep were not always good. He would wake up covered in cold sweat, a scream choked inside his throat and his body painfully taut or trembling uncontrollably. He tried to be silent. As an Archangel, he feared nothing, and no stupid machination the human world would make him stutter. The pictures of Hell affected him differently though. So he kept quiet. He took a shower every time, scrubbing hard, and by the time he was done and on his way to rest on the ugly couch at the living room, the light of the kitchen would already be lit.

     You sat with him every time, at his left so you wouldn’t obstruct the view from the window, and handed him a mug with tea. He never looked at you, and you never spoke a word.

     Gabriel tried to keep his body strong, now more than ever. His lack of celestial influence was no excuse to grow soft, and he had created an exercise routine. He woke up at sunrise everyday and went for a run, and then followed some exercises before showering. You usually emerged from your room at that time, clad in pyjamas, shoved you feet in some ugly and ragged trainers Gabriel refused to even look at, put on a jacket and went to the coffee shop on the opposite side of the street to fetch some coffee. You always brought the same tea for yourself, claiming you had a delicate stomach at such an early time, but Gabriel’s beverage changed everyday. He was starting to pick some favourites.

     You went to work daily, too, and returned very late in the evening. Your shifts were scheduled oddly, and you spent the majority of the day out. Gabriel was social by nature, and, while his purpose on Earth was to learn, he had to do it from real experience, not only books. So he took his tablet -you had bought him a protector for it decorated with a pair of what humans thought were angel wings, and Gabriel didn’t now if to laugh or to cringe, although he thanked you nonetheless-, a notebook, some far too expensive pen and a book, and went outside to read or take annotations on particular behaviours.

     He was always home by the time you arrived, exhausted, from work. *

     You groaned, every step of the stair high as a mountain. You lived on the last floor, the fifth, in the building. You just climbed up to the first one. Life was a terrible thing. By the time you reached upstairs, you were panting like a congested fifteen-year old bulldog, and you bag-pack weighted a ton of bricks.

      You crossed the doorway, kicked your shoes to one side -Gabriel would had your head for it-, the bag to the other, and face planted on the couch, the armrest digging sharply in your stomach. Gabriel, sitting straight as a broomstick on the other side of the cushions yet looking incredibly comfortable at the same time, gave you a sideways glance before returning to his book briefly to dogear it. On his lap rested his faithful notebook.

      “I see you have returned. How was work today?”

      He was like a therapist at his hour. He let you ramble while going to close the door. It’s not like he could understand you, your face buried in the fabric as it was, you socked feet on the air. This time, you just grunted. It’s been a lot like that recently.

     “I’m in severe pain at this very moment” you whined, not daring to move a muscle “. And I’m hungry too.”

      Your arms were heavy, and so were your legs, like you had attached weights to them and then went to win a marathon. Existing was a bit too much right now; for some reason, the restaurant you worked at had gotten surprisingly popular in a very short time, and the clients wouldn’t top coming. You were stressed every second of it, now not having time to even joke or chat with your co-workers between servings. Everyone but the manager was jumpy, and grumpy and the bad mood in the atmosphere increased with each passing day. The cooks at the back would bark at you waiters for being two seconds too late, and today you had slipped with something -you swore it had been that damned child from table seven throwing a spoon full of ice-cream at your feet- and landed heavily on your wrist. You hadn’t twisted it by pure luck, but it still ached, and an ugly, throbbing, purplish mark had found its home in the area.

      You saw Gabriel’s white crocs pass in front of your face -the best fucking purchase you had convinced someone to make- and he handed you a kitchen towel with ice. He was a businessman in his own house too, dressed sharp and elegantly. A month after becoming roomies and you hadn’t seen him in pyjamas yet. You drew the line at some point though, and it was located at the exact time you had noticed he would wear formal shoes even inside. Getting him to discard his scarf and coat hadn’t been that hard.

      Gabriel claimed the crocs were the ugliest thing he had the disgrace to glaze upon. You had agreed wholeheartedly. They were too white and the creator had decided to sprinkle holographic glitter on them too.  They were positively horrid. And you had been dying to see Gabriel wear them.

      Poor Gabriel, bless his soul, had obliged. He had forced you to buy what he considered the most atrocious thing in the store besides his new shoes. It was socks. Fluffy, sprinkled with pancakes and the face of the Grinch -of all things to put with pancakes- all over and you had fell in love. You only put them inside the house, and Gabriel cringed every time he would mistakenly look at your feet now. For someone with Gabriel’s sense of style, your mere existence was abhorrent. It was not that your fashion inclinations were all over the place, it was that you had sold them for a chewed corn chip at the flea market on a Sunday afternoon. He had seen you in pyjamas, in teared pants, in shirts with corny messages and in those puke inducing socks, among other atrocities.

      Right now, bent over the sofa, you were wearing what Gabriel believed to be your best clothes. You had an oversized hoodie -you had thousands of those, Gabriel believed- from which neck protruded the white collar of a dress shirt, your previously pleaded pants, now wrinkled, still maintained the ironed fold somehow, but your socks showed now two holes, one each, at the front part. You would have to throw them out again. You destroyed a pair every two weeks and Gabriel was sure half of your income was sorely designated to acquire socks.

     He cleared his throat and you sent him your deadliest glare. Gabriel stood there, unaffected, hands comfortably resting in the pockets of his pants. On the crook of his elbow hung his apron. “It’s dinner time” he said “. Go change, we have soup tonight. I’ve bought onions, and eggs and bread.”

     You had told him about your mom’s recipe a week ago. Gabriel, a big hater of anything more solid that jelly, had discovered the metaphorical Garden of Wonders in soup. He loved soup. He locked eyes with you and made a show of putting his apron on. You grunted again and stood, heading tiredly to your room to change. You would shower after dinner.

     Cooking was methodical -Gabriel wasn’t very fond of physical contact and you always kept enough distance as not to make him uncomfortable- and an actual approach at conversation. You did get some commentary on anecdotes that happened today while Gabriel chopped veggies with a surgeon’s accuracy. He always pointed that he wanted to listen, learn about what people did with their dull lives and whatnot.

      Gabriel made sure to have time to listen to you. He never, ever, made you feel dumb for mispronouncing  a word and would always give you helpful tips with grammar. You appreciated it immensely. You would be reading, wouldn’t understand a term and he gladly explained it to you, or spelled a word you didn’t catch right from TV and, in short, let you ramble and corrected your grammar whenever you had a question about anything.

      You were so fucking grateful for having him.

      You weren’t anxious or self-conscious about your language skills around him. You didn’t have to be on guard 24/7 because of judgement and you didn’t have to worry about him laughing at you behind your back. He was far too good for that. Had he not been a snarky, rich bitch, you would’ve thought him an angel of sorts.

     Angel or not, you thought looking at him, he’s dumb as fuck.

     The aforementioned angel had just taken a huge bite out of a red onion and now his eyes were, quote-unquote, ‘leaking’. His face was getting very red.

     You ran to get him a glass of water. *

     Gabriel thought he would feel lonely here on Earth, or bored. He had a lot of labours up in Heaven, very important duties. He was sure Michael was now taking care of them, but he felt kind of bad for relying so much on her. Upstairs decision or not, Michael had her own duties too. He hoped Sandalphon was helping her.

     As an Archangel, he was basically the representative for the Higher Powers among the other, lesser angels. He was to assign protocols, check the security and make sure that everything in Heaven, from the upper spheres to the organization and distribution of newly arrived souls ran smoothly. He was very good at his job and took pride in its effectiveness.

     He had had to find new people to be around daily now, during your absence. Coffee shops and little restaurants were his usual spots to find a loner human willing to share a conversation, no matter the age or gender or whatever -Gabriel wasn’t very sure what gender was, but many humans seemed to believe it was a huge thing or something, and after some well aged people screamed at him for indecency and tried to call him out for his sins, which he did not have, he had decided that it was better to leave some topics untouched.

     He had not felt that necessity with you yet. You relied on him when you had doubts and random things to ask about anything and it made him feel so fucking appreciated it was unbelievable. From the simplest of questions regarding his day -you always made a point to ask him about his day, even if his routine was always the same- to you screaming his name so he would come ad watch a cool thing on a video or a show you thought he could be interested in.

     Half of the time, Gabriel didn’t know what you were talking about, and you would pause the video and explain the general context to him, which would cause a new landside  of questions and, maybe, three hours later, you would return to the original topic. That didn’t happen most of the time but it didn’t seem to bother either of you.

     Existence on Earth wasn’t as shabby as he would have thought it to be. 

     It was kind of... tolerable.

-----------

Chapter 1

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Citroen C3 Aircross review

For  Efficient, refined petrol and diesel engines, scope for personalisation, rear cabin and boot space Our Rating  4 Against  Uncommunicative steering, suspension can be caught out, fiddly infotainment system 2017 The Citroen C3 Aircross is a comfortable small SUV that is also unusually practical for the class The Citroen C3 Aircross is a worthy contender in the ever-expanding ranks of small SUVs. It's not particularly rewarding to drive, but it does offer relaxed cruising ability and promising fuel efficiency. What make it stand out are decent levels of practicality - something that can't be said for every vehicle in this class - and plenty of scope for personalisation to build on the already-funky looks. 9 Oct, 2017 4.1 Citroen is hoping to attract new customers to the brand with the C3 Aircross - and it believes those buyers are drawn by funky design and the scope for personalisation. The Aircross certainly looks the part, with a beefy evolution of the C3 supermini's looks. That means the ultra-slim daytime running lights at either side of the grille, but a taller, bluffer front end and more plastic around the bodywork. The side profile is dominated by the 'floating' roof, which can be enhanced further through the choice of a contrast colour and, as part of a colour 'pack', a different shade of roof bars. This pack also brings graphics for the C-pillar, which is blacked out otherwise. This appetite for personalisation should be satisfied by the colour options. There are eight body colours available, along with four of those aforementioned 'colour packs' and three contrasting shades for the roof. The entry-level edition of the car gets steel wheels, but Feel editions get 16in alloys and range-topping Flair steps this up again, to diamond-cut 17-inchers. Image 10 of 20 Image 10 of 20 Inside, there are some cues from the C3, but the overall feel is of a more mature product. The standard mix of cloth and hard grey plastic isn't particularly sophisticated, but the optional 'Metropolitan Grey' and 'Hype Colorado' ambiance packs (available on Feel and Flair editions) give a softer-touch fabric to the main panel of the dashboard. In this respect, the C3 Aircross is every bit a match for the likes of the Renault Captur and Nissan Juke. The rest of the package is about par for the course in the class, though, with hard, scratchy plastics never too far away from your touch. At least the front seats offering something different; they're part of Citroen's 'Advanced Comfort' approach, so they're wider and a bit more cushioned than you'll normally find. They remain surprisingly supportive on twistier roads, too. The rest of the package up front is pretty standard fare, with analogue instrument dials - although a head-up display is available as an option. It's worth noting, too, that because Citroen thinks the C3 Aircross customer has a different 'lifestyle profile' than someone who'd buy a C3, this car is not being offered with the supermini's ConnectedCAM dashboard camera, even as an optional extra. Sat-nav, stereo and infotainment  The most basic C3 Aircross, Touch, get DAB and Bluetooth functionality as part of a four-speaker infotainment system, but most buyers will opt for at least mid-spec Feel editions, which come with the familiar Citroen 7in touchscreen and six speakers as standard. This incorporates Android Auto and Apple CarPlay connectivity - so stepping up to range-topping Flair editions just to get navigation in the same system looks like a bit of an extravagance. Image 11 of 20 Image 11 of 20 The system itself is one of the more comprehensive on the market - but that doesn't mean it's one of the best. There's a lot functionality rolled into that one display, including temperature controls for the cabin, and at times the system can feel like it's being overwhelmed by the amount of processing required. The interface doesn't help with this, of course, because it forces you to come out of some areas of the system to perform tasks like raising the cabin temperature by a single degree. This is even worse if you're having to duck in and out of the otherwise-slick world of Android Auto or Apple CarPlay. The dashboard contains a single USB socket at the bottom of the centre console; this is welcome enough, but we'd have preferred to see a second one alongside it, instead of the 12V socket that's increasingly irrelevant in today's market. 3.8 On the move, the C3 Aircross feels pretty much like a slightly larger, taller version of the C3 - and in the most part, that's no bad thing. The two cars share a lot of components because they're both based on PSA's familiar PF1 platform. This isn't the most sophisticated set of chassis parts on the market - indeed, it can be traced right back to the old Peugeot 206 - but a string of updates over the years has kept it respectable, and the C3 Aircross implementation is one of the best we've yet experienced. It continues PF1's well-known trait of allowing the occasional sharp road imperfection to jar through into the cabin, unfortunately, but the extra bit of travel afforded by the Aircross’s extra height does make it feel a bit more accomplished than a C3. It hangs on surprisingly well, too. The Aircross shows decent resistance to pronounced body roll, and while the steering is far from communicative, it’s direct enough for you to learn to lean on it. Image 3 of 20 Image 3 of 20 This is not the type of car that you'll get a great deal of enjoyment from driving at the limit - but should you carry a bit too much speed into a corner, it's worth knowing that the Aircross will punish you not with any sideways drama but with predictable, consistent understeer. We've tried examples on 17in and 16in wheels and the larger tyres have a tendency to scrub across the tarmac; the 16-inchers actually behave themselves too, but there is a noticeable groan from the straining sidewalls. The PureTech petrol engine is available with three power outputs - 81bhp and 118Nm, 109bhp and 205Nm or 129bhp and 230Nm. The diesel options are two versions of the same 1.6-litre BlueHDi unit, producing either 98bhp and 254Nm or 118bhp and 300Nm. We've spent most time in the mid-range petrol, complete with an automatic gearbox. It's a refined enough engine, only feeling strained when you get to around 4,000rpm - but possessing enough torque to make sure you shouldn't have to do that very often. The auto box, meanwhile, is an Aisin unit that’s also seen use in various Minis; it’s not infallible, but it’s generally smart enough for swift, smooth progress on all but the twistiest of roads. We've also tried high-powered diesel, which feels a more grown-up offering altogether - helped, no doubt, by hefty torque that cuts in at around 1,250rpm. It’s not the quickest C3 Aircross on paper (that’s the high-powered petrol) but it’s almost certain to be so in the real world. The diesel engine - PSA’s well-proven 1.6 - is a great little motor, blending that admirable bottom-end shove with smoothness that only starts to break up at levels of revs that you simply don’t need to use. Image 7 of 20 Image 7 of 20 We tried this engine with the six-speed manual, which is a solid enough gearbox let down by a slightly vague linkage (a typical PSA trait, unfortunately) and a squared-off, stylised gearknob that isn’t particularly comfortable in the hand. The C3 Aircross isn't really designed to for serious off-roading, but Citroen does offer its Grip Control system as an option if you know you're going to get the wheels muddy from time to time. It's basically an advanced stability programme that can be altered depending on the surface you're driving over - and it includes a hill descent setting that will take the car down steeper slopes at a gentle, easily controlled speed. Engines  The C3 Aircross has a choice of a 1.2-litre three-cylinder petrol engine, called PureTech and offered with three different power outputs, and a 1.6-litre diesel, badged BlueHDi and available in two different states of tune. Both engines are strong for their class; they have enough torque to ensure that you don't need to rev them hard, although we'd probably edge away from the most basic petrol, just because its outputs are likely to be on the limit for comfortable rapid cruising in a car that's bigger and heavier than the C3 supermini. You're unlikely to hear either the petrol or the diesel when you're doing motorway speeds; that's because both engines settle down nicely into the background at a cruise, and also because there's a fair bit of wind noise from the side mirrors that will drown out any thrum from under the bonnet. Image 2 of 20 Image 2 of 20 The diesel engine is noisier than the petrol, but it's still not particularly rattly for an engine of this type. And again, there's so much torque low down that you can happily shift up a gear at 2,500rpm, well before any harshness kicks in.  3.5 The C3 Aircross is built on some of the PSA Group’s oldest and most trusted current components. Indeed, its PF1 platform can be traced back to the days of the Peugeot 206. In addition, much of its engine line-up has already seen service in several other Citroens and Peugeots, including the C4 Cactus, one of our favourite small SUVs. With that in mind, the C3 Aircross should offer reasonable potential reliability, although it’s worth remembering that while the C4 Cactus did make it into our top 100 cars in the most recent Driver Power rankings, it only sneaked into the list, at 91st overall. Citroen’s Driver Power ranking is a worry, though; the company finished 26th overall - next to last - in the most recent set of figures, with just under 13 percent of owners saying that they’d had a problem with their vehicle. They also criticised the quality of interior materials, and the connectivity and electrics. Warranty Citroen UK offers a standard warranty with the C3 Aircross - two years of unlimited-mileage manufacturer warranty, and a no-cost option of a third year of cover from the dealership. This final 12 months has an overall limit of 60,000 miles, however. This level of protection is just about par for the course across the industry, but some of the C3 Aircross’s rivals do offer more - notably the likes of the Hyundai Kona and the Kia Stonic, which come with warranties lasting five and seven years respectively. Image 15 of 20 Image 15 of 20 Servicing Citroen hasn’t announced servicing prices for the C3 Aircross yet. However, we expect the car to be covered under the company’s fixed-price servicing policy, under which three years of cover can be paid for up front or for a small monthly outlay. There certainly shouldn’t be scope for Citroen to charge much more for servicing a C3 Aircross than it does a C3, given how many of the cars’ components and engines and shared.  4.3 Small SUVs generally have a whiff of 'emperor's new clothes' about them, because they're usually more expensive than their supermini relatives without actually offering any more space. The C3 Aircross manages to buck this trend. Its wheelbase is longer than a regular C3's, by around 60mm, and this translates into a rear cabin that could actually cope with a couple of adults for a reasonably long journey. They're unlikely to complain much even if their knees to graze the front seat backs, too, because they're soft and squishy enough to be forgiving. Headroom could be more of an issue, especially if the C3 Aircross in question has the panoramic sunroof fitted. It makes height more of an issue for any rear passengers over six feet tall. Up front, meanwhile, there are wider, softer seats than you'd commonly find in the class, and they're supportive enough to not give you backache on a long journey. Headroom is less of an issue for the front occupants too, even with that sunroof - and there's no denying its appeal, because it bathes the cabin in light and prevents it from becoming gloomy. The boot is a useful 410 litres with the rear seats pushed back, and you can slide them individually to increase this capacity to up to 520 litres, or fold them down completely to open it up to 1,289 litres. The floor is flexible too, allowing you to prioritise either a flat load bay or overall capacity. There’s also a neat vertical slot at foremost edge of the boot, for you to tuck the parcel shelf away and accommodate taller loads. Size The C3 Aircross is 4,155mm long, 1,765mm wide and 1,637mm tall. That makes it around 16cm longer than the C3, and taller by a similar amount. It’s also a little longer and taller than a Renault Captur, and the SEAT Arona - although the Spanish offering is a few millimetres wider. Leg room, head room & passenger space  Think of the C3 Aircross as a halfway house between a supermini cabin and a family hatchback and you won’t be far away from the packaging on offer here. There’s plenty of room for two adults up front, and two fully grown adults should be able to sit behind them in relative comfort (soft, squidgy front seat backs help with this, by allowing rear-seat occupants to press their knees forwards). Image 16 of 20 Image 16 of 20 Headroom is a little more of an issue - especially if you choose the panoramic sunroof. It does make the cabin much brighter and more airy, but it cuts away a few centimetres of headroom; this is especially true in the rear cabin, where six-footers will feel the top of their heads rubbing on the lining. Can the C3 Aircross operate as a five-seater? The answer is yes, but despite the lack of a big transmission tunnel in the middle of the floor, it’s probably best if the thinnest of the group sits in the centre rear seat. And three adults are likely to find their shoulder space a bit restricted, especially during a longer journey. In this respect at least, the Aircross can’t quite shake off its supermini origins. Boot Small SUVs don’t have a great reputation for delivering any more practicality than their supermini cousins, but the C3 Aircross bucks the trend by offering a genuinely useful boot. Its capacity is 410 litres with the rear seats in place, and you can slide them forwards (either as one, or using the 60:40 split) if you want to increase this to up to 520 litres. With the seats folded, there’s 1,289 litres on offer - not exactly a rival for an estate car, but usefully capacious. You can also move the boot floor to prioritise either capacity or a flat load area with minimal lip - and if you need to remove the parcel shelf, it’s worth noting that there’s a space for it just under the front end of the boot floor. Image 14 of 20 Image 14 of 20 4.3 Citroen is pitching the C3 Aircross a larger, more upmarket vehicle than the C3 supermini; indeed, to some extent it's a de facto replacement for the C3 Picasso small MPV. As such, list prices are a bit higher than they are for the regular C3, although the starting figure for the most basic Touch edition of the Aircross (available only with the most modest petrol engine) is still low compared with many of the car's rivals. Citroen has a history of offering plenty of dealer incentives and discounts, and this is likely to continue on the Aircross, which should have some of the more appealing monthly finance rates on the market. This is, in some respects, a safer way into an Aircross than outright purchase, because it insulates you from depreciation - a factor that has not been particularly kind to Citroens in years gone by. The most frugal C3 Aircross on paper is the lesser of its diesels, which gets a five-speed gearbox and returns official combined fuel economy of 70.6mpg and CO2 emissions of just 104g/km. In the real world, though, we wonder if the more powerful diesel - which is only just behind it on official figures, at 68.8mpg and 107g/km, won't be that bit more comfortable with life and a teeny bit more economical as a result. Image 13 of 20 Image 13 of 20 The petrols can't match the diesels' official figures, of course, but the PureTech three-cylinder engine is one of the more efficient offerings in this area of the market, and its numbers are no disgrace in a car of this size. The mid-spec petrol in Feel trim (our preferred choice from the range) manages official combined economy of 56.5mpg and CO2 emissions of 115g/km. As you'd expect, the automatic variant with the same motor takes a bit of a hit, with economy falling to 50.4mpg and CO2 emissions rising to 126g/km. On the whole, though, the C3 Aircross looks one of the more efficient offerings in the class. To give the 110 PureTech some context, a similarly powered Nissan Juke with a six-speed manual gearbox emits 128g/km of CO2; Renault's slightly more powerful Captur TCe 120 manages 125g/km. Insurance groups Citroen has yet to confirm insurance groups for the C3 Aircross. We'd expect it to nudge higher than the likes of the C3, though, to reflect its higher price tag and position further up Citroen's range. Depreciation It's too early yet to get accurate depreciation data on the C3 Aircross, but it's worth pointing out that Citroen's tactic of dealer incentives and discounts has generally resulted in quite weak residual values. There's already little sign that the French brand is going to shy away from finance and deposit contribution deals here either - but then, the same can be said for many of the Aircross's likely rivals. Image 18 of 20 Image 18 of 20 One model to avoid, meanwhile, is likely to be the Touch. It's the entry-level edition and is available only with the weakest petrol engine. While its standard specification isn't too bad, this version is expected to account for only a tiny fraction of sales - and it's unlikely to prove any more popular once it filters through to the second-hand market.

http://www.autoexpress.co.uk/citroen/c3-aircross/101283/suv

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Citroen C3 Aircross review

For  Efficient, refined petrol and diesel engines, scope for personalisation, rear cabin and boot space Our Rating  4 Against  Uncommunicative steering, suspension can be caught out, fiddly infotainment system 2017 The Citroen C3 Aircross is a comfortable small SUV that is also unusually practical for the class The Citroen C3 Aircross is a worthy contender in the ever-expanding ranks of small SUVs. It's not particularly rewarding to drive, but it does offer relaxed cruising ability and promising fuel efficiency. What make it stand out are decent levels of practicality - something that can't be said for every vehicle in this class - and plenty of scope for personalisation to build on the already-funky looks. 9 Oct, 2017 4.1 Citroen is hoping to attract new customers to the brand with the C3 Aircross - and it believes those buyers are drawn by funky design and the scope for personalisation. The Aircross certainly looks the part, with a beefy evolution of the C3 supermini's looks. That means the ultra-slim daytime running lights at either side of the grille, but a taller, bluffer front end and more plastic around the bodywork. The side profile is dominated by the 'floating' roof, which can be enhanced further through the choice of a contrast colour and, as part of a colour 'pack', a different shade of roof bars. This pack also brings graphics for the C-pillar, which is blacked out otherwise. This appetite for personalisation should be satisfied by the colour options. There are eight body colours available, along with four of those aforementioned 'colour packs' and three contrasting shades for the roof. The entry-level edition of the car gets steel wheels, but Feel editions get 16in alloys and range-topping Flair steps this up again, to diamond-cut 17-inchers. Image 10 of 20 Image 10 of 20 Inside, there are some cues from the C3, but the overall feel is of a more mature product. The standard mix of cloth and hard grey plastic isn't particularly sophisticated, but the optional 'Metropolitan Grey' and 'Hype Colorado' ambiance packs (available on Feel and Flair editions) give a softer-touch fabric to the main panel of the dashboard. In this respect, the C3 Aircross is every bit a match for the likes of the Renault Captur and Nissan Juke. The rest of the package is about par for the course in the class, though, with hard, scratchy plastics never too far away from your touch. At least the front seats offering something different; they're part of Citroen's 'Advanced Comfort' approach, so they're wider and a bit more cushioned than you'll normally find. They remain surprisingly supportive on twistier roads, too. The rest of the package up front is pretty standard fare, with analogue instrument dials - although a head-up display is available as an option. It's worth noting, too, that because Citroen thinks the C3 Aircross customer has a different 'lifestyle profile' than someone who'd buy a C3, this car is not being offered with the supermini's ConnectedCAM dashboard camera, even as an optional extra. Sat-nav, stereo and infotainment  The most basic C3 Aircross, Touch, get DAB and Bluetooth functionality as part of a four-speaker infotainment system, but most buyers will opt for at least mid-spec Feel editions, which come with the familiar Citroen 7in touchscreen and six speakers as standard. This incorporates Android Auto and Apple CarPlay connectivity - so stepping up to range-topping Flair editions just to get navigation in the same system looks like a bit of an extravagance. Image 11 of 20 Image 11 of 20 The system itself is one of the more comprehensive on the market - but that doesn't mean it's one of the best. There's a lot functionality rolled into that one display, including temperature controls for the cabin, and at times the system can feel like it's being overwhelmed by the amount of processing required. The interface doesn't help with this, of course, because it forces you to come out of some areas of the system to perform tasks like raising the cabin temperature by a single degree. This is even worse if you're having to duck in and out of the otherwise-slick world of Android Auto or Apple CarPlay. The dashboard contains a single USB socket at the bottom of the centre console; this is welcome enough, but we'd have preferred to see a second one alongside it, instead of the 12V socket that's increasingly irrelevant in today's market. 3.8 On the move, the C3 Aircross feels pretty much like a slightly larger, taller version of the C3 - and in the most part, that's no bad thing. The two cars share a lot of components because they're both based on PSA's familiar PF1 platform. This isn't the most sophisticated set of chassis parts on the market - indeed, it can be traced right back to the old Peugeot 206 - but a string of updates over the years has kept it respectable, and the C3 Aircross implementation is one of the best we've yet experienced. It continues PF1's well-known trait of allowing the occasional sharp road imperfection to jar through into the cabin, unfortunately, but the extra bit of travel afforded by the Aircross’s extra height does make it feel a bit more accomplished than a C3. It hangs on surprisingly well, too. The Aircross shows decent resistance to pronounced body roll, and while the steering is far from communicative, it’s direct enough for you to learn to lean on it. Image 3 of 20 Image 3 of 20 This is not the type of car that you'll get a great deal of enjoyment from driving at the limit - but should you carry a bit too much speed into a corner, it's worth knowing that the Aircross will punish you not with any sideways drama but with predictable, consistent understeer. We've tried examples on 17in and 16in wheels and the larger tyres have a tendency to scrub across the tarmac; the 16-inchers actually behave themselves too, but there is a noticeable groan from the straining sidewalls. The PureTech petrol engine is available with three power outputs - 81bhp and 118Nm, 109bhp and 205Nm or 129bhp and 230Nm. The diesel options are two versions of the same 1.6-litre BlueHDi unit, producing either 98bhp and 254Nm or 118bhp and 300Nm. We've spent most time in the mid-range petrol, complete with an automatic gearbox. It's a refined enough engine, only feeling strained when you get to around 4,000rpm - but possessing enough torque to make sure you shouldn't have to do that very often. The auto box, meanwhile, is an Aisin unit that’s also seen use in various Minis; it’s not infallible, but it’s generally smart enough for swift, smooth progress on all but the twistiest of roads. We've also tried high-powered diesel, which feels a more grown-up offering altogether - helped, no doubt, by hefty torque that cuts in at around 1,250rpm. It’s not the quickest C3 Aircross on paper (that’s the high-powered petrol) but it’s almost certain to be so in the real world. The diesel engine - PSA’s well-proven 1.6 - is a great little motor, blending that admirable bottom-end shove with smoothness that only starts to break up at levels of revs that you simply don’t need to use. Image 7 of 20 Image 7 of 20 We tried this engine with the six-speed manual, which is a solid enough gearbox let down by a slightly vague linkage (a typical PSA trait, unfortunately) and a squared-off, stylised gearknob that isn’t particularly comfortable in the hand. The C3 Aircross isn't really designed to for serious off-roading, but Citroen does offer its Grip Control system as an option if you know you're going to get the wheels muddy from time to time. It's basically an advanced stability programme that can be altered depending on the surface you're driving over - and it includes a hill descent setting that will take the car down steeper slopes at a gentle, easily controlled speed. Engines  The C3 Aircross has a choice of a 1.2-litre three-cylinder petrol engine, called PureTech and offered with three different power outputs, and a 1.6-litre diesel, badged BlueHDi and available in two different states of tune. Both engines are strong for their class; they have enough torque to ensure that you don't need to rev them hard, although we'd probably edge away from the most basic petrol, just because its outputs are likely to be on the limit for comfortable rapid cruising in a car that's bigger and heavier than the C3 supermini. You're unlikely to hear either the petrol or the diesel when you're doing motorway speeds; that's because both engines settle down nicely into the background at a cruise, and also because there's a fair bit of wind noise from the side mirrors that will drown out any thrum from under the bonnet. Image 2 of 20 Image 2 of 20 The diesel engine is noisier than the petrol, but it's still not particularly rattly for an engine of this type. And again, there's so much torque low down that you can happily shift up a gear at 2,500rpm, well before any harshness kicks in.  3.5 The C3 Aircross is built on some of the PSA Group’s oldest and most trusted current components. Indeed, its PF1 platform can be traced back to the days of the Peugeot 206. In addition, much of its engine line-up has already seen service in several other Citroens and Peugeots, including the C4 Cactus, one of our favourite small SUVs. With that in mind, the C3 Aircross should offer reasonable potential reliability, although it’s worth remembering that while the C4 Cactus did make it into our top 100 cars in the most recent Driver Power rankings, it only sneaked into the list, at 91st overall. Citroen’s Driver Power ranking is a worry, though; the company finished 26th overall - next to last - in the most recent set of figures, with just under 13 percent of owners saying that they’d had a problem with their vehicle. They also criticised the quality of interior materials, and the connectivity and electrics. Warranty Citroen UK offers a standard warranty with the C3 Aircross - two years of unlimited-mileage manufacturer warranty, and a no-cost option of a third year of cover from the dealership. This final 12 months has an overall limit of 60,000 miles, however. This level of protection is just about par for the course across the industry, but some of the C3 Aircross’s rivals do offer more - notably the likes of the Hyundai Kona and the Kia Stonic, which come with warranties lasting five and seven years respectively. Image 15 of 20 Image 15 of 20 Servicing Citroen hasn’t announced servicing prices for the C3 Aircross yet. However, we expect the car to be covered under the company’s fixed-price servicing policy, under which three years of cover can be paid for up front or for a small monthly outlay. There certainly shouldn’t be scope for Citroen to charge much more for servicing a C3 Aircross than it does a C3, given how many of the cars’ components and engines and shared.  4.3 Small SUVs generally have a whiff of 'emperor's new clothes' about them, because they're usually more expensive than their supermini relatives without actually offering any more space. The C3 Aircross manages to buck this trend. Its wheelbase is longer than a regular C3's, by around 60mm, and this translates into a rear cabin that could actually cope with a couple of adults for a reasonably long journey. They're unlikely to complain much even if their knees to graze the front seat backs, too, because they're soft and squishy enough to be forgiving. Headroom could be more of an issue, especially if the C3 Aircross in question has the panoramic sunroof fitted. It makes height more of an issue for any rear passengers over six feet tall. Up front, meanwhile, there are wider, softer seats than you'd commonly find in the class, and they're supportive enough to not give you backache on a long journey. Headroom is less of an issue for the front occupants too, even with that sunroof - and there's no denying its appeal, because it bathes the cabin in light and prevents it from becoming gloomy. The boot is a useful 410 litres with the rear seats pushed back, and you can slide them individually to increase this capacity to up to 520 litres, or fold them down completely to open it up to 1,289 litres. The floor is flexible too, allowing you to prioritise either a flat load bay or overall capacity. There’s also a neat vertical slot at foremost edge of the boot, for you to tuck the parcel shelf away and accommodate taller loads. Size The C3 Aircross is 4,155mm long, 1,765mm wide and 1,637mm tall. That makes it around 16cm longer than the C3, and taller by a similar amount. It’s also a little longer and taller than a Renault Captur, and the SEAT Arona - although the Spanish offering is a few millimetres wider. Leg room, head room & passenger space  Think of the C3 Aircross as a halfway house between a supermini cabin and a family hatchback and you won’t be far away from the packaging on offer here. There’s plenty of room for two adults up front, and two fully grown adults should be able to sit behind them in relative comfort (soft, squidgy front seat backs help with this, by allowing rear-seat occupants to press their knees forwards). Image 16 of 20 Image 16 of 20 Headroom is a little more of an issue - especially if you choose the panoramic sunroof. It does make the cabin much brighter and more airy, but it cuts away a few centimetres of headroom; this is especially true in the rear cabin, where six-footers will feel the top of their heads rubbing on the lining. Can the C3 Aircross operate as a five-seater? The answer is yes, but despite the lack of a big transmission tunnel in the middle of the floor, it’s probably best if the thinnest of the group sits in the centre rear seat. And three adults are likely to find their shoulder space a bit restricted, especially during a longer journey. In this respect at least, the Aircross can’t quite shake off its supermini origins. Boot Small SUVs don’t have a great reputation for delivering any more practicality than their supermini cousins, but the C3 Aircross bucks the trend by offering a genuinely useful boot. Its capacity is 410 litres with the rear seats in place, and you can slide them forwards (either as one, or using the 60:40 split) if you want to increase this to up to 520 litres. With the seats folded, there’s 1,289 litres on offer - not exactly a rival for an estate car, but usefully capacious. You can also move the boot floor to prioritise either capacity or a flat load area with minimal lip - and if you need to remove the parcel shelf, it’s worth noting that there’s a space for it just under the front end of the boot floor. Image 14 of 20 Image 14 of 20 4.3 Citroen is pitching the C3 Aircross a larger, more upmarket vehicle than the C3 supermini; indeed, to some extent it's a de facto replacement for the C3 Picasso small MPV. As such, list prices are a bit higher than they are for the regular C3, although the starting figure for the most basic Touch edition of the Aircross (available only with the most modest petrol engine) is still low compared with many of the car's rivals. Citroen has a history of offering plenty of dealer incentives and discounts, and this is likely to continue on the Aircross, which should have some of the more appealing monthly finance rates on the market. This is, in some respects, a safer way into an Aircross than outright purchase, because it insulates you from depreciation - a factor that has not been particularly kind to Citroens in years gone by. The most frugal C3 Aircross on paper is the lesser of its diesels, which gets a five-speed gearbox and returns official combined fuel economy of 70.6mpg and CO2 emissions of just 104g/km. In the real world, though, we wonder if the more powerful diesel - which is only just behind it on official figures, at 68.8mpg and 107g/km, won't be that bit more comfortable with life and a teeny bit more economical as a result. Image 13 of 20 Image 13 of 20 The petrols can't match the diesels' official figures, of course, but the PureTech three-cylinder engine is one of the more efficient offerings in this area of the market, and its numbers are no disgrace in a car of this size. The mid-spec petrol in Feel trim (our preferred choice from the range) manages official combined economy of 56.5mpg and CO2 emissions of 115g/km. As you'd expect, the automatic variant with the same motor takes a bit of a hit, with economy falling to 50.4mpg and CO2 emissions rising to 126g/km. On the whole, though, the C3 Aircross looks one of the more efficient offerings in the class. To give the 110 PureTech some context, a similarly powered Nissan Juke with a six-speed manual gearbox emits 128g/km of CO2; Renault's slightly more powerful Captur TCe 120 manages 125g/km. Insurance groups Citroen has yet to confirm insurance groups for the C3 Aircross. We'd expect it to nudge higher than the likes of the C3, though, to reflect its higher price tag and position further up Citroen's range. Depreciation It's too early yet to get accurate depreciation data on the C3 Aircross, but it's worth pointing out that Citroen's tactic of dealer incentives and discounts has generally resulted in quite weak residual values. There's already little sign that the French brand is going to shy away from finance and deposit contribution deals here either - but then, the same can be said for many of the Aircross's likely rivals. Image 18 of 20 Image 18 of 20 One model to avoid, meanwhile, is likely to be the Touch. It's the entry-level edition and is available only with the weakest petrol engine. While its standard specification isn't too bad, this version is expected to account for only a tiny fraction of sales - and it's unlikely to prove any more popular once it filters through to the second-hand market.

http://www.autoexpress.co.uk/citroen/c3-aircross/101283/suv

[carasueachterberg]

This week the pups morphed from guinea pigs to real puppies. They are growling and wrestling and starting to even notice the toys I’ve placed in their box. I tried a few Live Streams but as about 23 hours of their day is spent sleeping both ‘puppy hours’ mostly featured a big pile of pups napping. I will try again this week.

Mia continues to be an all-business mom, getting the job done and getting back out of the box. She is much more interested in what is happening in the rest of the house or the other dogs.

Below are the entries for this week. If you’d like to read them in real time (and maybe catch a puppy hour livestream) be sure to follow my public Facebook page.

Diary of a Rescue Day 8:

Everyone got noisy today. Mia has decided she does not want to be in that puppy room. She would like to come out and play with the other dogs in the house. It’s obvious she is a young dog and being cooped up with those little vultures is getting to her.

I tried to walk her more and to give her time in the hallway instead of only the puppy room. I’m hesitant to allow her access to the other dogs yet. With every other Mama dog I’ve waited until the puppies were weaned to introduce the mama dog to our pack. I still think that’s the best way so likely I will wait but we may try walking her with a Fanny, my young female dog who will eventually be her best playmate.

The puppies are also getting noisier and more active. It makes me wonder if their ears are starting to open. They are still wobbly and awkward but they are beginning to play and wrestle.

Because we all need some more positive stories to follow, I am going to try to post more video of the puppies. I’m going to set up my phone to stream a LIVE hour of puppies tomorrow from 11:30-12:30 EST. Can’t promise there won’t be poop or household noise but hopefully watching puppies will be much better than watching the news!

#stayhomeandsavelives and watch #puppies!

Diary of a Rescue Day 9:

They get a little more active each day. Today I weighed them all and everyone except Usnavi and Cinderella broke the two pound mark. If we have the birthdate more or less right, the growth chart puts them between 40-50 pounds. They seem small to me though so we’ll see if they stay on that trajectory.

Little personalities are starting to emerge. Dolly is very curious and outgoing, Usnavi is mischievous, Mr Mistopheles is very mellow (and the biggest pup), Evan Hansen is charming, and Calamity Jane is a bit of a noodge.

This morning I did my first ‘Puppy Hour’ and live streamed them for an hour. I will try again tomorrow but do it in the afternoon when they are more active.

I am trying to post as often as possible because I know people can use some happy media. Please take care of yourselves and look out for your neighbors.

#puppiesMakeEverythingBetter #opttoadopt

Diary of a Rescue Day 10:

At almost three weeks old the puppies biggest activity is sleeping. Still, I can spend inordinate amounts of time just watching them sleep- the little twitches, the mewling, the rolling over and getting stuck between siblings. All of it is adorable.

This weekend I thought I’d share a little of their days by live streaming a ‘puppy hour’ each day. I enlisted my son to rig up a holder for my iPhone and then I announced the appointed hour.

Saturday’s Live stream, while probably too far away at least had a little activity when Mia popped in and out of the pen and even settled down to nurse.

Sunday, though, was a solid hour of sleeping puppies, except when the phone holder slipped and then it was ten minutes of towel before Nick fixed it and then it was back to sleeping puppies.

I’ve decided I will give it a few days and then try the live stream again. With all that is going on in our world, I think a puppy hour would be a nice break from nonstop bad news.

Hopefully the next one will be a bit more entertaining.

Mia continues to spend her days at the gate, hoping someone will take her out for a walk. She is definitely ready for the single life.

#puppylife #nappinglife #opttoadopt

Diary of a Rescue Day 11:

It’s hard to get pictures of the pups with eyes open- when they are awake they are busy- stumbling around, nursing, or pooping. I caught a few today, though. They are looking less like guinea pigs and more like puppies.

Mia has been spending a lot of time in the hallway outside the puppy room, lying at the gate that separates the hall from our living room. From that spot she has been watching my husband install a hardwood floor. He says she reminds him of a toddler, easily amused watching ordinary things.

(I think he’s remembering our kids as babies, certainly by the time they were toddlers they were rarely content to ‘watch’ anything- they’d have made a big mess of all the stuff from the living room currently piled in that hallway!)

If we must be stuck at home, home with puppies isn’t such a bad deal. I hope you are fairing well and finding a few silver linings of this situation.

#staysafeandsane #togetherbutapart

Diary of a Rescue Day 12:

Today my kids, Ian and Addie, are in charge of the crew. My husband and I made a quick trip down to our cabin in the mountains of Virginia to cut the grass, address the carpenter bee infestation, and deal with the results of me leaving bananas on the counter the last time I was down here two weeks ago.

Thankfully, the bananas held up okay and the house wasn’t filled with fruitflies (as anticipated), but the bees are out in force and the exterminator is coming tomorrow. (I hate the idea of killing any bees, even ones that are eating my house, so hopefully he will have ideas how to not just evict them but keep them from coming back.)

So far, the meager first-hand reports are that the puppies and Mia are doing fine. Ian sent a few pictures. I’m sure they will seem so much bigger when I see them again tomorrow. I can check on them via our puppy cam and everything looks fine, at least on camera. My kids have helped care for dozens of puppies by now so I’m confident the pups are in good hands.

#togetherwerescue #mykidsareprettygreat

Diary of a Rescue Day 13:

The pups are three weeks old now. Tonight I weighed them. Smallest is 1 lb 11oz (Usnavi) and biggest is 2lbs 11oz (Mr. Mistopheles).

They got their second dewormer tonight and it went much better than last time- everyone slurped it up and looked for more. While I was deworming them, I noticed that there are teeth coming in, so later this week I will introduce some soft puppy mush. Solid food is the first step towards Mia’s independence, which she desperately needs.

Mia is a mischievous one, already trying to figure out how to climb out, pulling everything down within reach, and attentively watching out her gate at all times. She can’t wait to join the other dogs and this household.

Everyone faired just fine in my absence. It is awfully nice to have such competent kids (well really starter-adults).

#puppyhouse #happytobehome

Diary of a Rescue Day 14:

There is little to say beyond the cuteness, so I’ll let it speak for itself…

Thanks for reading!

Cara

If you’d like regular updates of all my foster dogs past and present, plus occasional dog care/training tips from OPH training, be sure to join the Facebook group, Another Good Dog.

For information on me, my writing, and books, visit CaraWrites.com. I have a new book, One Hundred Dogs and Counting: One  Woman, Ten Thousand Miles, and a Journey into the Heart of Shelters and Rescues, coming out in July. If it sounds like something you’d like to read, I’d be beyond grateful if you’d consider preordering it. Preorders contribute to the success of the book, not only giving me and my publisher some peace of mind but hopefully attracting media attention.

And if you’d like to know where all these dogs come from and how you can help solve the crisis of too many unwanted dogs in our shelters, visit WhoWillLetTheDogsOut.org.

Our family fosters through the all-breed rescue, Operation Paws for Homes, a network of foster homes in Virginia, Maryland, D.C., and south-central PA.

If you can’t get enough foster dog stories, check out my book: Another Good Dog: One Family and Fifty Foster Dogs . It’s available anywhere books are sold.

I love to hear from readers and dog-hearted people! Email me at carasueachterberg@gmail.com.

Need some good news for a change? How about #puppies?Diary of a Rescue Week Two #fosterdogs This week the pups morphed from guinea pigs to real puppies. They are growling and wrestling and starting to even notice the toys I’ve placed in their box.

[ayogsothothismybabydaddy-blog]

A Quiet Place is Not a Good Movie

1) It's unoriginal.

One of the principal things that people have decided to praise this movie for is its originality. I cannot fathom why a horror movie in which people try to be quiet to avoid a monster is in anyway considered novel. The sentence I have just written describes a good twenty percent of the runtime of every horror film. As far as I can work out, AQP's trailblazing efforts consist of attempting to stretch this premise out for an entire 90 minutes, sans storytelling, character development, thematic conerns, or anything else that might divert from the absolutely thrilling spectacle of a strangely hipsterish family running/hiding/and being quiet in order to evade CGI creatures whose shitty design is the only thing frightening about them.

If you want a specific film in which the idea of silence is key then here: The Descent. Exactly same thing: creatures that are blind because they have evolved underground (btw - right there is more of a rational than AQP ever provides you with for why in fuck's name these creatures can't see - or indeed where they came from...) are evaded through silence. The Descent 2 even ends in the exact same way - a character screams to attract the attention of the monsters, sacrificing themselves and allowing other characters to escape. Want a more recent example? Don't breathe (2016): home invaders have the tables turned on them when a blind war veteran locks them inside and uses the home-turf advantage to hunt them down.  It's not as good as the Descent and it's definitely more gimmicky, but you know what? It's still not as shitty as A Quiet Place...

So, how exactly is a horror film that relies entirely on one of the most fundamental conventions of the genre for its entire runtime and has close parallels with 3 other well-known horrors (one of which came out only 2 years ago) remotely original? It's not. Next.

2) The writing.

God the writing is shit. Let's start with characters. Elementary characterisation suggests that a character ought to have something they want; a motivation that propels them during the course of the plot. The characters don't really want anything other than to survive. They're a family who wants to not get eaten. Perfectly reasonable, but not really good enough for the purposes of entertainment. A film needs more: something like the brilliant Koren zombie movie Train to Busan. It's a zombie movie so the motivation is, understandably, don't get eaten by a zombie. But there are also REAL characters with differing motives, attitudes, prejudices etc. that allow the film to have scenes revolving around conflict. In train to Busan you cach yourself asking interesting questions like (I wonder if this character will betray another? I wonder how far this one would be willing to go to protect his daughter? etc. The only thing it's possible to wonder at any point in AQP is 'I wonder if Thing A will eat Character A?'. Just substitute the letter each time and you're seriously describing the source of supposed dramatic tension for what felt like 15 scenes of the film.

Oh wait. I forgot about the fucking daughter.

Right so, one of the things people are praising is the supposedly involving and emotionally affecting narrative centring around the deaf daughter and her father. Essentially, she blames herself for the death of her younger brother and is convinced that dad also blames her. Seems pretty reasonable. That's until you get to the entirely unreasonable, nonsensical ways in which this causes her to act.

One of the great areas of potential when you're telling a post-apocalyptic story is the sheer interest of contemplating how an alterered society might result in people being altered: developing with different, values, attitudes and knowledge. In The Road when the son drinks a coke for the first time in his life it's a fascinating moment. Hell, in Planet of the Apes, when Gary Oldman uses the recently restored power to look at photos of his family on a tablet it's an emotional moment. You are struck by the sheer, terrifying but fascinating difference of this world from our own. And yet, the director of AQP seems determined NOT to explore a different world (a dinner scene in which the family sit around a nicely garnished fish dish consitutes such a twee post-apocalypse it's pretty easy to forget the end of the world)  or to even consider that children who have grown up in a radically different, highly dangerous world would be anything other than the most stupidly cliched characters.

So the girl is guilty - she believes she has caused the death of her brother. Does she retreat into quiet solitude? Does she do what I think most teenagers would probably do and desperately seek her father's affection? Does she fuck. She does the pissy teenage rebel act you've seen 1000s of times before (always in film, hardly ever in real life). One noteable highlight is when her father presents her with a hearing aid which he has made for her (at the cost of great time and effort) and she essentially throws it back in his face. I found the moment pretty baffling and to my mind the context makes no sense of it. I felt even worse when I realised that it was the set up for a scene which made even less sense; having witnessed the death of her father, the deaf daughter goes downstairs to the basement of the house and finds the table at which her father, with a book on the anatomy of the human ear to guide him, has been painstakingly assembling the many hearing aids (all of which have not succeeded). So, because it's the right point in the film, she cries. But why the fuck is this scene treated like a reveal? Did she think he was finding hearing aids on trees? Why suddenly has a gesture that inexplicably angered her in the 1st Act caused her so much emotion in the 3rd?

Notable other occasions of characters doing things that make no sense include:

1) The bit where the daughter and her brother are stranded. The brother says that the father is coming to save them, the daughter remarks that he will come for him but not her. They're in the same fucking place! Is the daughter so insanely unreasonable/out of touch with reality that he expects the father to find them both, arrive, punch her in the face and run off with the son?

2) The bit in the 1st 5 minutes where a 4 year old living in a world where perfect silence needs to be maintained at all times (unless you want to suffer a horrible death) somehow thinks that putting batteries in an electric toy isn't a fucking dumb idea. BTW: the 'kids are dumb though' line doesn't excuse this: nobody is that stupid.

3) The bit where an older kid running away from a monster who can only hear decides not to run down an open path with no obstacles but to run straight into a corn field instead. Why? Well because it's much noisier and also easier to get lost in. Obviously.

4) The bit where a mother in a flooding basement decides to have a nap and wakes up to find a baby she gave birth to 10 minutes ago floating in a box. I'm not making this up. At this moment, a film where THIS happens is currently rated at 97% on rottentomatoes.

3) The sound design. Given how much of the film hinges on sound you'd expect this not to be one of the best elements of the film. It's not. The film shows non-diegetic sound at its absolute worst. Almost every appearance of a monster is accompanied by a an inception style foghorn which gets to be like a punchline after a while. In this film the score seems to subscribe to the school of thought where the purpose of a soundtrack is to tell you how to feel. Whether it's telling you to be afraid of a monster or sad because of a hearing-aid/father/daughter subplot that makes no sense, the soundtrack is there to tell you how to feel. Trust me film, if you've done your job properly I won't need a soundtrack to cue me in, I'll just feel things of my own accord.

Diegetic sound wise, you spend the entire movie waiting for them to do something interesting with the deaf girl. I mean, a deaf character; surely it's got to result in a moment where we can see it but she can't hear it? Ideally one where we experience her deafness so that we see the monster appear silently and creepily onto the screen? Well it does, but by then I'd stopped giving a shit. It's also worth noting that while every review you'll read for this movie with stress the importance of silence to the movie, what they won't mention is actually there's a hell of a lot of fucking annoying noise in it as well. This supposedly original film relies so heavily on the lazy tactic of using loud noises in an effort to shock and scare, that every attack from each of the monsters is accompanied by the most irritating keening, slavering, yelping bullshit imaginable. The idea of grating high-pitched feedback even becomes essential to the plot at one point, meaning that if, like me, you long ago stopped giving a shit, then the finale will break new ground by actually giving you a headache too. That's right, having bored you with shitty storytelling, cliched and hollow characters and a derivative and formulaic plot, AQP ends by trying to actually hurt your ears.

4) the premise. The premise makes no fucking sense. Actually that's not fair, it makes some. If I were M. Night Shyamalan I'd be wanting my act back. You know, the act of coming up with a gimicky premise that makes just about enough sense that you'll hopefully stick with it until you get to the twist, but if you think about it for like, a couple of seconds, you'll realise it's ridiculous.

So, the film demonstrates at the start that society seems to have almost entirely collapsed. It didn't do so straight away though, as evinced by a number of newspaper headlines reporting on the monsters themselves. That means there was at least a period of time during which the monsters were alive and kicking but society had not broken down. What the hell was the world's military doing during this time?

Let's look at the monsters themselves: fast, lethal to a human, and totally and utterly blind. Are you telling me that not one person, scientist, solider or in fact military organisation, has been able to trap one of these things? You know, rig a cage to fall and chuck an eggtimer underneath it? Not one person, has tried this, caught one and studied it? At the end of the film it's revealed that the monsters are basically disabled by certain high pitched nosies (in this case caused by the girl's hearing aid - what? No I don't think that's really convenient either). And yet nobody else in the world, having clocked pretty quickly that the monsters are entirely reliant on sound, thought about experimenting with sound waves?

That's if you buy into the idea that studying it is even necessary. Yeah the creatures are pretty big but they're hardly going to stand up to a tank are they? They're also, as the film shows, definitely possible to kill just by shooting them in the head. In zombie movies the breakdown of society doesn't involve too much suspension of disbelief because they almost always rely on a virus that affects humans and which spreads very quickly, meaning that no matter how well-armed or regimented an organisation, it's likely to be destroyed from within. And yet, an entirely intact army was unable to stem the tide of these creatures (from god knows where) taking over the entire world? Bullshit.