#i have a large soft spot for obscure video games

[doodlesdreaming]

Woke this morning to discover that Lince Works, the studio behind the Aragami games, are closing their doors. I'm very sad to see them go. So I spent most of my morning sketching one of my favorite indie games about ninjas.

[demoneyesanddamagedsouls]

Sparring Partners

Chapter Two: Preparation

A/N: Thank you guys so much for the love on the first Chapter of this fic, I hope you enjoy this one just as much. I’m aiming to post a new chapter each week, not sure yet how many chapters this’ll have yet. Feedback and comments as always are so welcome, I’d love to hear your thoughts, and if you’d like to be tagged for the upcoming chapters just let me know! xxx

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x F! Reader

I have also just created a playlist for ya’ll to listen to while reading. I hope it gets you even more invested! ✨COCKY COWBOY PLAYLIST✨

Summary: You and Agent Whiskey are long time rivals. As Statesman agents you both have been put up for the same promotion and this mission is your final chance to prove yourself. Have you got what it takes?

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Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Slight Language, mentions of food and canon-typical violence

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CHAPTER TWO: Preparation

You both leave the conference room minds reeling from all the information that was just given to you.

As one of the younger agents at Statesman, being chosen as a potential candidate for Champ’s position was a real honour. It showed that Champ really thought highly of you and your skills. After 8 years of working as an agent, going on your fair share of dangerous and difficult missions, taking a bullet more than once, and now training the new recruits with Tequila, you knew you had worked your ass off to get where you were.  However, even with all this experience it paled in comparison to some of the more senior agents, some with 10 or more years under their belt. Hell, the person you were up against had been on the job for about 15 years, making a name for himself as one of the most fearsome agents that Statesman had to offer. You knew for a fact that Whiskey had been hoping for this position eventually, it had been something he mentioned to other agents that you heard in passing. At the top of his game and at the height of his career you realised, this cowboy was going to be one hell of a challenge to go up against.

Whiskey mulled over this new mission and Champ’s offer over and over in his mind. He wasn’t particularly surprised that Champ had propositioned him as a potential candidate for this position, he was one of the most senior agents at Statesman. Probably the closest in age to Champ and with the extensive experience he had it seemed rather obvious, but Vodka? You were still so young, in your mid 20’s the world was yet to break your spirit. Mind you, you had that bossy tone down packed. He chuckled to himself. He was hesitant to admit but you had a certain leadership quality that you didn’t see in most of the agents here. Most were contented to follow orders and carry out missions as asked, but you always had your own way of doing things, always taking the initiative. He supposed you had a fresh and young perspective that Champ must see as endearing. He however, found your constant need to take charge rather infuriating. You always seemed to think you knew best and even if you were correct, more often than not he was resigned to admit, it was still frustrating as you always seemed determined to show him up. He knew you were going to be a challenge, so determined to prove yourself, and a damned good agent to boot. Fuck this is going to be harder than he thought.

Both of you walking in the same direction out of the room, neither of you realising the other is turning to walk in the opposite direction. Both too caught up in your own thoughts you collide into each other your head smacking into Whiskeys chest. Quickly recoiling from the unintentional contact your rub your forehead with the palm of your hand. “Dammit Whiskey, watch where you’re going for Christ’s sake.”

“Well jeez Vodka how am I supposed to avoid you and that ego inflated head of yours?” He scoffed, eyeing you up and down.

You scowled at him, “You think I have a big ego? Have you looked in the mirror lately Whiskey? You and that cocky ass grin of yours have got a lot of nerve talking about my ego.” Rolling your eyes, you swiftly turn and storm away from the narcissistic cowboy.

“If you liked my smile so much you should have just said so… sunshine.” He calls back to you as you walk away. You could practically hear the smirk in that smooth as silk southern accent.

What an absolute dick. He knew exactly what he was doing when he spoke to you like that. It infuriated you. The way his southern drawl echoed in your ears, his words dripping like honey, they way he called you those stupid little pet names. Everything about Whiskey drove you up the wall, he always knew just how to get under your skin. “Fuckkkk…” You growled to yourself as you stormed into your office your heeled boots clicking angrily through the hall. Why does he always have to be so intensely irritating? You needed to get that stupid fucking smirk out of your head and get prepared for your new op. Slamming the door shut and sitting down, you start reclining in your office chair taking a deep breath and relaxing. Whiskey’s scent had lingered on your clothes creating a cloud around you after you had slammed into his chest. Inhaling the smell of cinnamon and sandalwood, a soft oaky smell, your breathing began to slow and calm. You would never tell him but that was one thing you did unfortunately enjoy about Whiskey. He always smelt good. Why did he always have to smell so damn good? Shaking your head to clear your mind of any remaining thoughts of Whiskey you leaned towards your desk and opened your laptop. This was going to be a long night…

***

Pushing the door closed with your heeled foot, you stepped into your apartment and sighed. You were exhausted. Checking your watch, you realised it was now 10 minutes past midnight. Swiftly moving to the bedroom, you flopped onto your bed groaning as you flipped yourself over and pulled off your boots, quickly changing into your pyjamas. Finally laying back down in bed you stared up at the ceiling running over the research you’d done over the course of the afternoon and evening, and the plan you had organised for tomorrow. You had spent the afternoon working, collecting copious amounts of information on CleanPlanet and the history of their company. It seemed that they were attempting to pass as an almost ‘mom and pop’ style family-owned business “Dedicated to the bettering of the planet and all the people who inhabited it.” What a load of rubbish. You had uncovered multiple articles from smaller news publications questioning the companies credibility, some families of recently passed away individuals even coming forward and accusing the company of foul play in the deaths of their relatives. CleanPlanet was owned and run by Howard Jacoby and his wife Constance, two very well-off socialites and academics who were every bit as snobby as they appeared in pictures. At least you wouldn’t be dealing with them directly thank goodness you hated dealing with high society types, that would be Whiskey’s issue.

There was a particular video that had caught your eye whilst combing through their internet presence, a TedTalk style video starring the one and only Howard Jacoby. He was speaking about how the planet was struggling with things like overpopulation and pollution, a speech which sounded eerily similar to Professor Arnold’s work, the man who had assisted Richmond Valentine and encouraged his plot to wipe out most of the planet. You shuddered at the thought. Either way you and Whiskey would get to the bottom of this. If the company and its owners were planning on anything like what Valentine had tried to execute then you needed to figure it out quickly. Deciding you’d brief Whiskey in the morning about your hunch, you set your alarm and curled up in your soft cotton sheets. Looking out your bedroom window at the twinkling of the city lights, your head sinking slowly into your pillow. You drift off into a restless sleep, anxious of what tomorrow would bring.

***

You arrived at Statesman the next morning rubbing your eyes. Your sleep had been restless, anxiety of the coming days keeping you from a comfortable evening. Pushing the door to your office open you hear a chipper voice behind you. “Well mornin’ Vodka. You ready for the op today?” You turned to see Whiskey standing in your office door frame, leaning his broad shoulder against it with a large smile plastered across his face.

Rolling your eyes at his unnecessarily wide grin, “And what’s gotten you in such a fabulous mood this morning?” You say with an exasperated sigh as you drop into your office chair with a small thud. As soon as the words fall out of your mouth his smile somehow grows larger as he pulls out the arm that was behind his back forward as he saunters into the room. Holding a large paper bag, which as soon as you spot the smell hits your nostrils. Fresh pancakes. You look at him with sudden excitement and surprise, your mood instantly lifted and the last feeling of tiredness leaving your body as you inhale deeply.

“I thought I’d bring us some breakfast to get us in the right headspace for today. I also thought we should probably trade what we found out yesterday during our research to make sure we’re both on the same page…”

“Oh, so this is a bribery breakfast huh?” You questioned as you drag your eyes away from the mouth-watering food on the desk in front of you, finally taking a proper look at Whiskey for the first time this morning. The first thing you notice is that he is not currently donning his regular black Stetson, a rather big change from his usual cowboy appearance. Instead, he was showing off his thick, brushed back hair, his wireframe Statesman issued glasses resting on his strong nose, obscuring his dark brown eyes. He was wearing a gorgeous grey checkered suit with a white dress shirt underneath, a casual yet striking look on his glowing tan complexion. It was a very nice change for the cowboy. He cleans up well, you thought. Your gaze flicks up and you notice Whiskey’s cocky grin once again. He must have thought you were eyeing him up, not that you weren’t but you weren’t about to let him know that. You roll your eyes at him trying to keep his knowing smile at bay. “So, what are you after then Whiskey?”

“Well sunshine, since you always seem to know everything, I thought I’d get your run down on things this morning before we both head out to our separate ops today.”

“Ahhhh there it is, the usual candour I’m used to from you cowboy. I was worried when you showed up this morning with a kind gesture that I wouldn’t be enjoying any of that snarky wit I have become so accustomed to.” You look down at your computer and notepad, focusing on the research notes you had made last night in somewhat of a delirious, fever dream state. “Alright let me have a look…” you trailed off.

Whiskey sits down across from you at your desk pulling the steaming pancakes out of the paper parcel you had brought this morning. Setting up the two meals Whiskey observes you, wearing a pair of simple black high waisted work pants tapering at your waist, a simple white blouse tucked into them, the buttons undone just low enough to show off your neck and the top of your chest. He darts his eyes back up to your face, so you don’t catch him staring, nose scrunched up in concentration under your matching Statesman glasses as you palm through your somewhat excessive amount of research notes. He lets out a light breath of amusement seeing you like this, confused but copiously prepared, it was a nice change of pace from your usual so certain self.

Looking back up from your notes as you find what you were looking for you see the small meal containers opened on the desk, filled with pancakes with a small pot of maple syrup on the side. Turning your focus back to Whiskey you begin to go through what information you’d gathered that you thought was pertinent to the both of you. You ran through the notes you had made, both of you working your way through breakfast, Whiskey chiming in occasionally with a mhmm and a nod here and there. “One thing that kept bugging me last night was that Ted Talk type video of Howard Jacoby… talking about the human race being a plague on the planet that needed to be cured so the earth could thrive again…”  you trial off as a look of concern crosses your face, “It was really eerie and reminded me a lot of that professor that assisted Richmond Valentine in his attempt to have the world turn on each other.”

“Well, it seems I missed that video, that sounds mighty concerning…” Whiskey trails off, leaning his elbow on the side of your desk slowly pushing his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose. “Wonder what their testing at those new hospital facilities of theirs then…” He turns to look at you, the same worry sparkling in his eyes.

“My hunch is that they must be testing something similar to what Valentine did, something that can affect extensive groups of people on a large scale. Something that would be easy to distribute and spread, but obviously more related to the medical profession because of the labs…”

“Maybe some sort of virus or infection?” He chimes in.

“Seems more than likely… I guess we’ll find out more today. Speaking of…” You glance down at your watch realising it was almost 8:30am. Still so early for your tired demeanour, but almost time for you to both be heading off. Ginger had organised a cover story for you last night and sent in for a ‘staff transfer’ so that you could get into the CleanPlanet facilities and gain access to the hospital quickly. You needed to get to the bottom of this puzzling situation fast, especially as it seemed to be becoming more concerning by the minute. “I think its time for us to head off.”

“Seems it is.” Whiskey nods and swiftly packs the remnants of breakfast back into the paper bag, throwing it into the bin beside your desk.

“So, you know what my, rather detailed I might add, plan is but you have yet to share how you plan on approaching this op.” A slight leer in your voice, aiming to provoke him. “Care to share… cowboy?”

“If you must know, Vodka,” he drawls, the civilised tone from earlier gone in a heartbeat as the two of you pick up your bags and make your way down the hallway to the elevator. “I will be posing as a one of multiple wealthy investors eager to take a tour of CleanPlanet’s new business acquisitions. A high society gentleman looking to expand my portfolio into areas I have true passion for you could say. As it so happens, it seems that Howard Jacoby is searching for some people who share his vision and have a healthy wallet.” His voice dripping in sarcasm, for this type of persona was so unlike himself. A charmer by nature his honeyed voice had made many a lady fall victim to a one-night stand, but a high society man he was not. Whiskey cleaned up well, but he was certainly a working-class gentleman with a love for simple living.

“Well, your certainly dressed the part.” You say as you eye up Whiskey admitting to yourself that he was pulling of the sleek look. You shake your head clearing your mind of the potential minute attraction forming, focusing once more on where you were going. Stepping into the elevator and tapping the basement level button, you continued. “You definitely look like a pretentious asshole.” You say, chuckling to yourself as the elevator started to move.

Suddenly Whiskey was directly in front of you looking you up and down. “Don’t pretend you haven’t been eyein’ me up little lady.” He says, voice velvety smooth. Pinned down by his gaze you suddenly feel cornered, claustrophobic in the small metal space. You feel your face begin to heat up with an incriminating red tint, uncertain whether it was from anger or something more primal, you quickly sidestep his imposing figure. The elevator dings and you swiftly exit the elevator, “You wish cowboy.” You respond, a quick exhale escaping your mouth as you calm your racing heartrate. Why was he trying to rile you up before such an important op? Why does he have to be such a cocky arse? Eyeing him up? He’s got to be kidding. He’s the absolute last person on the planet that you could ever be attracted to. He does nothing but irritate you. He may be attractive, you begrudgingly admit, but you certainly were NOT attracted to him.

You hear him chuckle behind you, “Did I touch a nerve there sunshine?” he drawls behind you as you both head towards the garage where Ginger would be waiting. Rolling your eyes in anger to yourself, you choose to ignore him. Responding would only make him continue.

Pushing the doors open to the garage you see Ginger talking to one of the mechanics. As she hears the doors swinging, she turns to you quirking her eyebrow, seeing you seething with annoyance. “Everything alright here agents?” She says, confusion evident in her tone.

“Fine Ginger,” your voice comes out strained attempting to mask your irritation, “So what have you got set up for us for the next few days?”

“For you Vodka I’ve organised this ID card so you will have access to the basic areas of the hospitals but there are higher clearance areas which I wasn’t able to duplicate. You’ll have to figure that out when it comes to it.” She hands you a small ID badge attached to a clip which you then hook onto the belt loop on your pants. “I’ve also got small earpieces for the two of you to keep in communication while inside the facilities. They’re undetectable but very effective so try not to scream while wearing them if you can.” She passes you both the tiny in ear tech piece.

“Thanks Ging.”

“Now for you Whiskey,” She pulls out a small wallet and a set of car keys, “Here’s a new wallet with your cover identity and some cash to show off of course.”

He chuckles to himself pulling out his new drivers’ licence, “Introducing Duke Silver!” He smiles and bows towards you and Ginger. You roll your eyes again, scoffing at his ridiculousness.

“And… If I can finish, Duke.” Ginger continues giving Whiskey an exaggerated frustrated look, “Here is your new automobile.” Handing him the keys she gestures to a car sitting behind her. A brilliant turquoise blue Shelby Cobra 427 with white racing stripes down the middle.

“Alright… Now that’s what I’m talking about!” Whiskey dashes over like an excited child to admire his new personas gorgeous ride.

As Whiskey admires his new toy you turn to Ginger, “What do I have the luxury of driving to ‘work’ then Ginger?”

Passing you the keys she gestures to the car behind Whiskey’s, a slightly beat-up silver Toyota Corolla. “Sorry hon, you unfortunately need to blend in as a semi-broke medical student.”

You sigh, clutching the keys in your hand. “Thanks Ging.” Walking over you pass Whiskey, still ogling his own ride, making your way to the new car you’d be enjoying for the next few days. A far cry from your own beautiful red Mustang you sighed once more. The two of you hop into your cars and adjust the inside to what you need, throwing your bags into the back seat. You look over at Whiskey and slump into your seat, incredibly jealous. “That looks like one fun car to drive…” you mutter to yourself, green with envy. “Lucky bastard.”

Whiskey revs his engine excitedly, “Thanks darlin!” He shouts to Ginger over the loud purr. Turning to you he winks, bringing your irritation back with full force. “Have fun at ‘work’ then sunshine. Talk to you later!” His voice ringing out across the concrete as he drives off, the garage doors opening as he takes off out of the facility.

“I guess I’m off too then, see you later Ginger!” You smile at her as you close your door, taking off after Whiskey ready to face whatever the day would bring.

*******************************************************************************************

Permanent Tags:

@hrk-fic-recs  @misslexilouwho  

[camembertandcookies]

Childhood friends au

my new chapter is up!

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Adrien sat motionless, ignoring the growing need to sneeze behind his eyes, while the makeup artist brushed powder across his nose. He’d been at this shoot for three hours and he only had one more costume change before he was allowed to leave. He was excited to go to Marinette’s. He hadn’t felt this light since… well a while.

BeepBeep. His phone chimed on the vanity in front of him. It was Natalie.

Adrien, your father has requested your presence at home at 5 for dinner. You may have free time until then.

Thank you, Natalie.

Adrien stifled a smile so as not to ruin the work that was occurring on his face. Some father-approved free time was always a good thing. He leaned back and relaxed, determined to make the rest of the shoot go by quickly. He was excited to see Marinette. Recently their hangouts had become a bittersweet comfort. He so badly wanted to pretend everything was okay and enjoy his time with her, but it had become so hard. He was insanely grateful for the space she had been giving him. But not today. Today, he would have fun thinking about his new school.

He wondered if Marinette would want to sit next to him in class. He blushed a bit. Maybe… she is my best friend. He felt a familiar warm feeling in his heart at that thought. She was such a great friend. He always felt happy when he thought about her. She’s so kind helping me get ready for school. Marinette had always been kind and it showed in her sweet smile. Beautiful on the outside and the inside. He had always thought she was pretty, even when she wore a backwards hat for almost a whole year when they were eight. Her hair had been getting caught in the tree branches at the park. It made him laugh and he helped her untangle herself every time. She settled in on a no nonsense look eventually with her hat and low ponytail. These days she usually wore her hair down and he had to admit it looked significantly better. 

Adrien snapped into the real world while the photographer barked orders at him. He moved his hand onto his hip and smiled. In his mind he continued to map Marinette’s hairstyles over the years.

-

Walking over now. See you in 2, Adrien’s text read.

Marinette waited under the large tree that had always been their meeting spot in the park outside her parent’s house. She read the timestamp. 12:10. It was now 12:11. She looked up and saw a blonde walking towards her across the clearing. She took a deep breath, he always looked so handsome after photoshoots. They had combed his hair more than his usual free flowing style.

“I like your hair that way,” Marinette started, while Adrien sat down next to her.

“Thanks. Maybe I’ll keep it up for school. Did you get yours cut?” Adrien noticed Marinette’s loose black hair now stopped just above her shoulders instead of the usual 3 inches down.

“Yeah, just a trim. I’m thinking it’ll be easy to do for school, also.”

Adrien reached out and brushed his fingers through the ends. He couldn’t help himself after his day of hair musings. It felt so soft.

“What else do I need to know then?” Adrien asked, a bit too abruptly, pulling his hand into himself.

Marinette pulled out a notebook. She opened it to the first page, where she ripped out a hand-drawn schedule.

“This is what your class schedule will look like with the timings of everything.”

“Classes are about an hour then?”

“Yes.”

Adrien looked back at her notebook. She had a list of names and a few other notes written out.

“This is a list of everyone in our class. Everyone is really friendly, except Chloe, so I would just avoid her.”

“Oh, I already met her.”

“How?”

“Her dad is a friend of my dad’s. We’ve met at a few events, but I wouldn't say I know her. She’s always nice to me.”

“Of course,she’s nice to you,” Marinette looked a bit miffed. “Well then, everyone is nice.”

Adrien laughed at the way Marinette sounded slightly sarcastic.

“You’ll always be my best girl.”

“Thanks,” Marinette smiled with a laugh. It was something her mother had always said. Here comes your best girl! Her mother would exclaim as Mari came down the stairs in baseball hats and t-shirts. It always made her feel like he was escorting her to the ball.

Adrien read the notes on the page. Nino played video games with us and is a much better player than me. Alya is the smartest girl in class. Rose is the sweetest person on the planet. There was a compliment for everyone on the page, even Chloe. Beautiful, but every rose has its thorns! She had written.

“You can keep that to remember,” she said. “The only other thing to know is your locker combo which you’ll get on the first day.”

“I get a locker? Like in an anime?”

“Yes,” Marinette let out a laugh. His excitement was as plain as the teeth in his grin.

“I thought this would be more like the Princess Diaries. Like you would make me walk with a book on my head.”

Marinette doubled over then. She pictured Adrien with his already perfect posture strutting around with books on his head.

“Why?” Marinette asked. Practically gasping for air from laughter.

“I might need some help!” Adrien joked.

“With walking?” Marinette continued with another laugh.

“No, but with fitting in,” Adrien said more seriously.

“Everyone is going to like you. Plus you’re famous,” Marinette chided him.

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“It means they’ll be nice enough to you at first because of that and then they’ll realize you’re actually really cool,” Marinette pointed out.

“Can we do the book thing anyway?”

“Sure.”

Marinette stood up, pulling Adrien to his feet. She placed her notebook on top of his head, pulling his arm into hers so they walked arm in arm, side by side. Adrien dutifully stood as straight as a rail. He slowly followed her leading in a small circle.

“Thanks. This is really helping,” he smiled at her softly, his eyes filled with the joke.

“Any time,” she smiled back and hoped her cheeks didn’t heat up at his teasing sincerity.

Adrien took his free hand, removing the book from his own head and placing it on Marinette’s. Marinette stiffened and the book fell almost instantaneously. They both laughed. Adrien bent down to get it, letting go of Marinette’s arm in the process. He knelt on one knee, reaching up and presenting the notebook for his girl.

“My dear, you seemed to have dropped this.”

“Why thank you!” She exclaimed, taking the notebook back. “How about we end our lesson for now and sit back under the tree?”

They sat together for about 4 hours, the lazy summer afternoon passing them both by. There were still moments- those quiet moments- when Marinette felt Adrien’s sadness loom in the distance. Like a dark cloud on an otherwise clear day, it threatened to obscure the sun, but remained at bay.

The sun shone through the branches giving Marinette sun-kissed cheeks as the afternoon wore on. Adrien’s own sunscreened cheeks hurt from smiling at how lovely their time was. How lovely his best friend was.

[shih-coulda-had-it]

Everything is the same but Sorahiko has a cooking youtube called "Torino Cooking"

Okay, so I had no idea how to execute this until I remembered there’s like a whole niche of gaming grandmas. So why not cooking grandpas?

//

There are many, many channels that surpass TorinoCooking on YouTube. In terms of subscribers and video quality, TorinoCooking has little. The narrator is a grouchy old bastard who won’t show his face and moreover, only speaks in Japanese. He doesn’t bother adding any subtitles. The videos are obviously filmed on a phone’s camera. The most TorinoCooking can boast is a consistent weekly upload schedule, and the veritable library of videos available to watch.

Midoriya Izuku stumbles onto TorinoCooking purely out of chance and a messed-up algorithm. He’s young, obsessed with All Might, but not too certain how to navigate YouTube’s celebratory 20XX interface.

(To be fair, for the first hour, no one knows how to navigate the 20XX interface.)

One click leads to another. A clip of All Might entertaining fellow eight year olds--you, too, can be a great hero!--goes into All Might cheerfully following a chef’s instruction on how to make All Might Onigiri--packed with nutrition!--and then…

Izuku squints at the desaturated picture on the player. He holds his All Might figurine close and startles when a rough, warm voice starts to talk.

“There’s only so many recipes in the world,” says an old man. Izuku can tell he’s old because the hands that come on-screen, rinsing the rice by hand, are veined, liver-spotted, and knobbly-knuckled. “I figure there’s no harm making All Might Onigiri. Pah. Cheap trick to get kids eating carrots. Whatever works, I guess.”

The voice is level throughout the video. Nothing shocks the old man.

Izuku is enthralled by the steady camerawork. Most of the videos he watches are bright, bouncy, and prone to swift bursts of scene-cuts. Or in the case of All Might sightings, shaky because of adrenaline. He’s okay with that; he’s shaky too, seeing his hero perform miracles.

But the old man moves with care, and it’s almost soothing on Izuku’s brain to see those All Might onigiri be crafted in a sedate environment. The humorous commentary tends to fly over his head, but it sounds like the old man is inviting him to have a giggle at his expense. Later, Izuku will understand that they are inside jokes.

The video ends with a slightly grainy shot of three neatly-made All Might Onigiri.

The old man says, wryly, “Have no fear, I am here,” and then the screen goes black. The autoplay symbol starts to load, and Izuku frantically leans forward and clicks for the username.

TorinoCooking is old. Like, his account dates back to when YouTube first started!

None of the videos exceed ten minutes, nor do they exceed over a thousand views. Izuku guesses he understands. Torino is kind of boring. He doesn’t even have pop music running in the background.

He clicks another video at random, close to the beginning of the catalogue. All Might will understand.

“Brat,” says a younger Torino irritably, “stop messing with my phone.”

The shadows obscuring the camera fade away to reveal a smiling boy with yellow sunflower hair, stronger than Kacchan’s, and fluffier too. His smile is so familiar. Izuku unconsciously mirrors it, and feels a pang of loss when the boy moves out of frame. The view turns to a cutting board, with various bell peppers, a slice of ham, and an onion are set aside.

“Sorry, sorry, Torino-sensei,” the boy laughs. “But oshishou said your hair was in frame last time! She also said you should get higher counters, so you don’t have to keep hunching over them.”

“Hn. Stop hovering and do your homework.”

“I already did it! I thought you said you were gonna teach me how to cook!”

“That’s what the videos are for.” Torino’s hands, firmer and more clear-skinned with youth, come into frame. They are holding a very big knife. “Do you want your Denver omelette or what?”

“I do, I do,” says the boy, frantic. “Um, uh, I have--a project. Yep. I will now be doing that project, in my room… can I have extra ham?”

Torino audibly growls. Izuku clutches All Might close, wide-eyed, even though the knife on-screen isn’t quivering with malicious intent. The boy yelps and apparently leaves the kitchen, because then Torino sighs and turns his attention to the cutting board.

His left hand adds another slab of ham.

“Going soft,” Torino mutters, and then he’s slicing and dicing, as coolly competent as he is decades later. “Core your peppers,” he continues, “and segment them like this. Then you can stack and cut more evenly…”

Izuku’s mom finds him sleeping in the desk’s chair, lulled to sleep by the endless recipes.

(The very first video is about taiyaki. It isn’t Torino’s hands in frame, but the hands are large and square and worn from work. It isn’t Torino’s voice that comes through the speakers, but the voice is low and smooth and undeniably feminine.

“I asked you to film videos for Toshinori’s benefit. Why am I being the guinea pig for your video set-up?”

“Karmic retribution.”

The woman laughs. And if you listen very, very closely, there is a soft, fond chuckle accompanying her.)

[allsassnoclass]

someday soon we all will be together

Ficmas Day 12

Pairing: Michael Clifford/Ashton Irwin

Rating: General Audiences

Key Tag(s): Long-Distance relationship, mentions of COVID-19

Word Count: 1,441

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A/N: thank you to everyone who has been reading these!  I have enjoyed writing them.  This last one is in the same universe as my two other mashton college au fics, but it can still be read alone with no background information.

—

Michael calls Ashton late Christmas night

—

Michael’s parents have gone to bed by the time he gets to hear Ashton’s voice.  He woke up this morning to a snapchat from him, a picture of his face half-obscured by his covers with morning light streaming in and the caption Merry Christmas <3.  It made something ache deep in Michael’s gut, a longing to see that messy brown hair in person and lie on the same bed again, but his response went unopened for most of the day.  For Ashton, Christmas is for family, and he respects that.  Tonight is for them.

Michael makes a cup of hot cocoa and brings it to the living room, turning on the lights on the tree but not bothering with any other lamps.  He doesn’t want to break the stillness of the house more than he has to, content to watch the rainbow string lights dancing around the tree and look at the ones flashing on the houses across the street.

They got fresh snow a few days ago, making the landscape seem like a winter wonderland despite assurances that it would be a brown Christmas weeks ago.  Michael settles into the armchair by the window, wanting a good view of the peaceful night, and sips his cocoa while he waits for Ashton to call.  He’s not left waiting long.

“Hi,” Ashton says, voice soft on the other end of the line so he doesn’t disturb his own family.  He’s probably sitting in his own living room, too, because he doesn’t like to be in his bedroom in the basement if another room is available.  The location is worth it to have his own bedroom, but he feels suffocated without a window.

The thought of them being mirror images in separate locations makes it feel like they’re closer.

“Hi.  Merry Christmas.”

“How was your day?” Ashton asks.  “I want to hear everything you did.”

Michael tells Ashton about his holiday, detailing the presents and big dinner that consumed the important parts of the day.  Thanksgiving has always been the big holiday for his family, so not much of their Christmas traditions changed with the pandemic.

Back during spring, when the pandemic was still starting, they had raised the idea to each other of spending holidays together: Ashton would come to Michael’s for Thanksgiving and get to meet his extended family and Michael would spend Christmas with the Irwins.  It’s the thing Michael is most upset about missing because of the pandemic.

Ashton’s Christmas was similar to his own, but they had a zoom call with his relatives and an afternoon of board games.  Ashton and his mom both worked extra hard to keep Harry and Lauren entertained in order to distract from the disappointment of not getting to do the full extended family gathering and traditions.  Ashton thinks they were successful, but Michael can hear how drained he is.  He loves his siblings more than anything, but Michael wishes not for the first time that he didn’t feel the responsibility of taking care of them.

“They miss you, you know,” Ashton says.  “Harry kept asking about you.”

Michael feels another ache in his chest.  He still isn’t fully sure how to handle Ashton’s siblings, but he likes them.  It would’ve been nice to spend time with them this break.

“Tell him I miss him, too.  You can even tell Lauren I miss her, if you want,” Michael says, picking at the hem of his sweatshirt.

He was going to ask for one of Ashton’s before they left campus for Thanksgiving break, knowing that he wouldn’t see him for two months, but he forgot.  He regrets that, now.

“I miss you,” Ashton says softly.  Michael hums.  They only live an hour away from each other, but they may as well be across the country with the pandemic.  Anne Marie got a new job at a nursing home.  It’s more consistent hours and pays better, but Ashton can’t risk bringing something back to her.  Michael hasn’t been leaving the house, but both of his parents are working in-person now.  They have protocols in place to ensure everyone is safe, but there’s always a risk.

“I miss you, too,” Michael says.  “A lot.”

Being at home is lonely.  Ashton has his siblings, but Michael is fully by himself until his parents get home at night.  He almost wishes he had stayed at school, but without Calum in the apartment it would’ve been pointless.

“Maybe…”

Michael waits for him to finish the thought, but he doesn’t.  The lights across the street flick between blue and red hypnotically.

“Maybe what?”

“I don’t want to get your hopes up too much, but I’ve been talking to Mom and we think it would be okay for me to come down.  I told her about how you’re staying safe and your family is being smart, and she said that I could maybe stay over for New Years as long as it’s just us and your parents are okay with it.”

“Really?” Michael breathes.  It seems almost too good to be true.  Michael knows that they’re following rules more rigidly than a lot of other people, but the thought of seeing Ashton fills him with both anticipation and anxiety, even though there’s practically no way for him to get the virus and pass it to him.

“Really,” Ashton says.  “You just have to ask your parents.”

Michael swallows, trying to contain everything building inside him.  It’s not possible for him to have forgotten what it feels like to kiss Ashton or even hug him, but he’s long overdue for a reminder.  He wants to see Ashton’s smile unobstructed by a phone screen or a mask.  He wants to hold his hand and sit close enough to hear his breathing in quiet moments.

“They’ll say yes.  They think seeing you is good for me.”

“Are they right?” Ashton asks.

“Yes, of course,” Michael says.  “Sometimes I think you’re the only thing that’s kept me sane this year.”

There have been infinite late night phone calls and video chats and the occasional drive and ice cream when they could swing it, and each time Michael ends the night feeling a bit better than he did before.  Being with Ashton pushes things back into alignment for him.  He has a way of making everything seem brighter than Michael can conceive it is.  He can’t imagine trying to navigate everything that has happened without him.

“Yeah,” Ashton says softly.  “I feel the same way.”

Michael traces the lip of his mug, hot cocoa now lukewarm inside it.

“It won’t be like this forever,” Ashton says.  “We can do Christmas together next year.  We have a vaccine now.”

“What if it doesn’t go away?”  Michael asks.  He knows what the scientists say, but distribution will take forever, and people are already saying they don’t want to get the shot.  The end still isn’t in sight, not to his eyes.

“If we move in together after you graduate, we’ll be our own family unit anyway,” Ashton says.  “It won’t be like this forever.”

Michael hums.

“We have New Years now,” Ashton says.  “Only one more week, then we’ll be together again.”

“I can handle a week,” Michael says.  He takes a sip of his cocoa, eyes searching the sky for any visible stars and landing on the moon instead.  It’s not quite full yet, but it’s getting there, a large bright spot in the otherwise dark sky.

“Hey Ash?” he asks.

“Yeah?”

“Are you by a window?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you see the moon from where you are?”  Michael hears shifting on the other side of the phone, waiting with bated breath.

“Yeah, I can.  It looks nice tonight.”

“I think so, too.”

Ashton huffs a gentle laugh.

“Looking at the same moon is almost like we’re there together, right?” he says.

“Yeah.”  Michael smiles, comforted that they’re on the same page without him having to explain himself.

Sometimes he feels like Ashton is his moon, something bright and grounding in an otherwise dark year.

“Tell me something else you’ve done recently,” he requests.  Ashton hums, then begins a tirade about the Christmas preparations he helped with earlier in the week.  Michael settles into his chair, eyes on the moon, content to listen to him for the rest of the night.

They’re not together now, but they will be next week, and they will be again in the future.  Michael has to let himself pretend for now, but it won’t be like this forever.  He and Ashton will have other Christmases, and until then he’ll keep his voice in his ear and his eyes on the same moon.

[digitalworldbound]

miyako and hikari (platonic) for 133?

Number 133: “Slushies aren’t just for kids. Fuck society!”

Characters: Miyako & Hikari. Finally, one of my 02 babies! This is set while the girls are maybe around 15 and 16.

I wrote this in first person as Hikari, just to give it a more casual, carefree feel! I hope you enjoy these teenager-y, summer vibes. The ending kind of sucks, but please ignore it. (Minor swearing) 

Send me a prompt! 

As a certified teenager, it’s safe to assume that I love summer. Why wouldn’t I? It’s the time of the year when you can pretty much do whatever you like. Summer is the grand time where the months-long prep and countdown for family vacations actually come in fruition.

But there’s danger that lurks during summer. It’s the trap of monotony where sleeping late, waking up at noon, watching endless TV, and playing video games for hours become a routine. Well, not if you are friends with Miyako.

Despite chatting with friends into the wee hours of the morning, the girl is an early riser. She’s the “get up and go” type, only grabbing a banana for breakfast as she sprints out the front door. Afterall, an object in motion in stays in motion.

It was the first Saturday of summer vacation when she barged into my room, a flurry of purple hair and lipgloss. “Hika!” she screeched. Miyako was one of the only people that called me by a nickname, and never failed to abuse this privilege. “What are you still doing in bed? If you want to go scope out hot guys on the beach with me, you have to get up. We’re burning daylight!”

I didn’t even have to glance at the clock to know that it was inhumanly early. The coffee machine in the kitchen was silent, and the sound of my brother snoring permeated the apartment. Somehow, I managed to pull myself away from the warmth of a slept-in comforter, yawning all the while. Before my feet hit the floor, Miyako was rummaging through my wardrobe, clicking her tongue in disapproval at my large collection of borrowed basketball t-shirts. “Hmm, where do all these come from, I wonder?” she asked pointedly. She laughed airily, flashing me a wink.

“Ha, ha, Miya, very funny. You know me and him are just friends,” I offered, attempting to stretch the sleep out of my joints. She shook her head in disapproval, purple ponytail swinging behind her.

A note about Miyako: she fancies herself a matchmaker, and believed I was her perfect target.

For years, she has tried everything to pair me up with my best friend. A few summers ago, she locked us both in the hall closet, smushing us between the extra linens and a scratchy, wool blanket. Takeru and I are pretty close, so we weren’t particularly bothered by our close proximity. We might have been able to enjoy our time together had Miyako not forgotten about us. It wasn’t until my brother came home from soccer practice that someone heard our desperate pleas for freedom. Ever since then, she has stayed out of it.

With a hum of approval, she tossed a sundress in my direction.  I barely had time to catch the flimsy, yellow fabric before she barked out another order. “Go to the bathroom and put that on, we need to hurry.”

Another note about Miyako: Never argue with her when she gets in one of her Moods.

My socked feet padded their way silently to the bathroom, pausing only to check the time displayed in the hall: 7:45 in the morning. Changing quickly, I slipped the sundress over last season’s bathing suit, adjusting the straps as the material settled around my hips. Miyako, being a full year older than me, had taken puberty gracefully, filling out gradually and evenly. My body, it seemed, had other plans. The hips seemed to be its first priority, leaving the top of my dress little to fill itself out.

I made my way back towards my room, careful to avoid any creaky floorboards. Miyako sat atop my bed, flicking through a stray magazine. She hadn’t noticed my arrival, and I took my few extra moments of silence to study her.

This past semester, she had shot up several inches, giving her legs the slender look of a model. Her cut-off shorts only emphasized this fact. Her Hawaiian-esque button down should have been tacky, but she left the buttons undone, showing off her camisole underneath. A bathing suit top poked out from underneath it, accentuated her new curves. Compared to her, I felt like a little girl playing dress up.

While I struggled to coax the tangles out of my horrendous bedhead, Miyako gave me the rundown of the day. “Okay, so I was thinking we hit up Starbucks first. They have some new fruity lemonade that I’ve been dying to try, and I’m also kind of hungry.” As if to punctuate her statement, my own stomach growled, and I grinned sheepishly up at her. “Make that two of us,” I laughed.

She rambled on about sunbathing and beach volleyball, the metallic jingle of her bracelets accentuating every point. Miyako talked with her hands, making gestures large and small as if it would help the listener understand her better. Spoiler alert: it never did, but it was fun to watch all the same.

My hair finally tamed, I applied some light concealer, desperate to rid myself of the dark circles clinging underneath my eyes. “You know,” her jingling stops, “You really don’t need any makeup, Hika.”

I only snort in response; taking compliments has never been my forte. Grabbing my purse and phone, I slipped on a pair of sandals. “Okay, I’m ready.”

“Let’s rock and roll!”

-

As one could expect on the first weekend of summer vacation, Odaiba beach was cluttered with people. For mile it seemed the white sand was obscured by sunburnt bodies and an array of towels, but that was understandable.

The passing heat wave had been brutal. One could not go outside without sunscreen, lest risk getting sun poisoning. Within minutes, Miyako sucked her lemonade dry, settling on chewing the left-over ice. “Oh!” she squealed, bits of ice flinging about. “An empty spot, just over there!”

Years of running away from evil Digimon  looked like practice as we narrowly dodged the ample bodies of beach-goers. Arms linked together; our feet kicked up sand behind us as we ran. Just as we were about to secure our small area, a blue beach towel obscured the white sand.

I was panting too hard to notice Miyako’s eyes light up or the stranger’s shadow obscure the sun’s rays.

“Hey, guys! What are you two doing here?” a familiar voice asked, humor lifting at the end of his question. My breathing stopped mid-pant, silently cursing whatever deity that would listen. Once my heartbeat was under control, I managed to stand up straight. Raising a singular eyebrow, I challenged our guest. “Well, Takeru, the last time I checked, this beach is open to the public.”

His blonde hair reflected the sunshine, a soft, golden glow haloing around him. As if I needed any more reason to fall in love with him. He laughed in good nature, smiling a boyish, toothy grin.

“You took our spot.” Miyako pointed out, arms crossed over her chest. Wrinkles formed between her brows, her effort to look more menacing. A pair of heart-shaped sunglasses shielded her hazel eyes, and I almost giggled at the thought of her trying to look domineering while wearing something so innocent.

“Who says we all can’t share?” he countered; blues eyes illuminated by mischief. Never one to back down from a challenge, Miyako stood her ground, “I don’t think so.”

Anxiety clenched at my stomach. As of late, being in a close proximity to Takeru made me nervous, especially when he was shirtless with little rivets of water trailing their way down his abs. He was no longer the cute little eight-year-old that sat with me by the campfire. Years of basketball practice had solidified his athletic figure, and two summers ago, his growth spurt had him towering over his own brother. Seeing him in nothing but a pair of swimming trunks did not help my flushed state.

“It’ll be fine, Miyako. We can just squish our towel beside his.”  Rolling her eyes, she begrudgingly pulled out her Hello Kitty! themed towel, spreading it haphazardly on the ground. “Let’s just get in the water. That’s where all of the cute guys are, anyway.”

Takeru, for his part, pretended not to notice the hostility in her voice. He was as used to her moodiness as I was. Standing there awkwardly, he only made the move to leave as we began to strip down to our bikinis. “I should probably go find Ken and Daisuke. I’ll catch you both later,” he stammered, eyes intently focused on the granules of sand that had clung themselves to his hands.

Looking at each other, Miyako and I burst into a fit of giggles. She had a twinkle in her eyes as she wiggled her eyebrows in my direction. “No, absolutely not.” I deadpan, knowing exactly where this was about to go.

Her glossed bottom lip poked out, her attempt at a puppy-dog look. In my opinion, she looked more like a Kardashian, and when I told her exactly this, the lip was sucked right back in.

Though it was still pretty early, the sun was high in the sky. My cheeks were warm, and my shoulders had turned a light shade of pink. “We need to put some sunscreen on before we fry.”

“Nah, I’m good. I need to work on my tan anyway.” Miyako’s high-waisted bikini bottoms and halter bathing suit top suited her figure, the cornflower blue color complimenting the slight tan she had already developed. She raised an eyebrow at my pink one-piece, but I just shrugged. Shopping for a skimpy bathing suits had never been one of my priorities.

Neither of us felt comfortable oogling guys when our friends were here and apt to make fun of us, so the though of swimming was abandoned. I smeared sunblock on any bit exposed skin, using the technique a toddler would when icing a cake: all hands on deck.  

The pair of us sprawled out, Miyako’s body covering most of the cartoon cat. My pale legs claimed Takeru’s towel as my own. His blonde hair had disappeared in the throngs of beachgoers, and considering that he wasn’t the sunbathing type, I figured he wouldn’t complain.  

Rays of sunshine encapsulated me, and the muscles in my shoulders slowly unwound. Eyes closed, I only half-listened to surrounding conversation. A child begged his mother for ice cream while some teenaged girl made her move. A nearby volleyball game was in full swing, both teams shouting at one another. The summer air was stagnant, smelling of sunscreen, sweat, and salt.

We laid around, soaking in the sunshine and the freedom that came with summer vacation. Those last few weeks of school had been stressful. Between taking pictures for the school paper and studying for any upcoming exams, I had been ready to lose my mind. Takeru had also been acting strange, flip-flopping between avoiding me at all costs or never letting me out of his sight. It had all be so intense that I was grateful for Miyako’s distraction, even if it meant waking up at the ass-crack of dawn.

“Psst.” I whispered. I rolled onto my side, doing my best to ignore the way iced coffee moved around in my belly. In our haste to get to the overcrowded seaside, we had forgone any breakfast, hoping that caffeine would be enough to fuel us throughout the day. The rumble in my stomach proved otherwise.

Miyako groaned, peeking at me through her ridiculously long lashes. Note to self: interrogate her about the brand of mascara she uses.

“Psst, Miyako.” She ignored me once again, opting to rotate like a rotisserie chicken.

“Ugh, fine, I’ll go find food on my own.” I stood up, dusting invisible debris off of my legs. Sure enough, I had my friend’s full attention. Anything that involved eating always got her going. In a flurry of purple hair and sand, she was up on her feet, eyes searching for the nearest snack source. A laugh bubbled out of my throat. Miyako tended to do all things with a theatrical flair, making even the most mundane tasks enjoyable.

Once, in middle school, we were both sentenced to lunch duty. Our job was simple: serve food to our peers. Dishing out food was easy; just ladle the mystery meat on a plate and voila! You were finished. It would have been simple enough, had we not had to wear hairnets and white smocks that made us look more like a middle-aged lunch lady than we ever wanted to. Miyako was never the type to wallow in self-pity. She ignored the looks of sympathy other girls gave us and found pleasure in the odd slurp sound the food made when hitting the trays. Soon, it became a competition of who could create the best squelch, testing out different flinging techniques until we were satisfied. By then end of lunch period, our smocks were littered with oil stain, and our cheeks were sore from smiling.

Miyako channeled her inner lunch lady food-flinging abilities as she practically pushed innocent bystanders out of her way. God help those who stood between Miyako and, well, whatever it was that she wanted. Her ponytail navigated through the crowd, giving me no choice but to follow. Her legs lead us to a slushie cart, manned by a woman who was all smiles and sticky syrup. It might not have been solid food, but I wouldn’t deny myself a sugar high.

A small line had already formed, several children tugging on their parents’ sleeves. My bathing suit clung to my skin uncomfortably. I tried to shift in place, but the air was thick with heat. Aside from seeing my childhood crush half-naked, waking up early hadn’t been the best idea. The sun was high in the sky, my morning shadow disappearing.

The line moved quickly, and before long, the pair of us stood at the front, pondering our choices. Finger resting on her lip in faux-concentration, Miyako made a show of deciding on a flavor “Could I have a mix of wild cherry and blue raspberry, please?”  

“Why pretend to chose when you get the same thing every time?” As a woman of few pleasures, I found a great joy in calling Miyako out. Her flush of embarrassment was a rare sight.  Turning towards the employee, I order the first flavor to have ‘strawberry’ in its name.

A few minutes later, we found ourselves walking along the shoreline. The waves lapped at our bare feet and we slurped on our slushies, rambling on about anything that came to mind.

“You know,” I said, disrupting the natural lull of conversation, “The last time I drank a slushie like this was before I even met you.”

By now, Miyako’s slushie had melted into a dark purple, the last remnants of red dye staining her lips. “But slushies are, like, a summer staple. What’s up with that?”

I twirled my straw around, savoring the last bits of pink ice that had collected on the bottom of my cup. “Well, my brother would probably make fun of me. He already gives me a hard-enough time about my ice cream addiction; he says sweet things are for children.” Switching voices, I lowered my pitch and curled my arms, much like an ape would at the zoo. In a horrible attempt at mocking my brother, I continued, “ ‘Hikari, sweets bad, protein good. Eat more meat.’”

I took a few more steps before I realized she was no longer beside me. Turning around, I barely had time to register the shocked look on her features before she cried out: “Slushies are not just for kids! Fuck him!” Apparently, my friend took summer treats very seriously. 

If her passionate outburst hadn’t of attracted attention, her colorful language sure did. Quickly, I grabbed her arm, hastily pulling her towards our belongings. Embarrassment colored my cheeks as I attempted to dodge the gazes of judgmental bystanders. “Miyako, you can’t just say things like that,” I whispered to her, clenched teeth giving my tone a pinched quality.

“C’mon,” I thrusted her towel into her arms, “let’s get out of here before we get kicked out.”

Pulling on her shorts, she cast me a sideways glance. “I’m sorry, Hika, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Sighing, I held both of her hands between mine. “You said what you did because you care about me, and I can’t fault you for that.” I gathered up the rest of my own belongings before continuing. “Besides, you forgot to feed me today. I’m thinking we get some McDonald’s. Your treat?”

She laughed, hands now busying themselves with her shirt. “Isn’t McDonald’s for kids?”

Tossing my purse over my shoulder, I turned around and winked. “Fuck society.”

[cdelphiki]

Bewildered was the only word Damian could use to describe how he felt.

Because just that morning, he hadn’t expected anyone to acknowledge what the day even was. But now, after he’d spent the morning playing video games with Jon, chatting with his Father on the phone, and then having a rather lovely lunch, people were showing up at the apartment.

Lots of people.

People Damian knew.

That he’d call family, if pressed.

...Plus Drake’s insufferable friends.

Which was just weird. Kon and Stephanie were there among the attendees, right along side Jason, Cass, Duke, and Alfred. 

So yes, Damian was bewildered. Or befuddled. Or just plain old confused.

Alfred he understood, of course. Even if the two of them had barely spoken since Damian got whisked away to the Kent’s, Alfred had always been one to remember things. And despite their relationship’s rocky start, Alfred had always been someone stable and supportive in his life. So, actually, he thought himself stupid for not realizing Alfred would actually remember.

It was the rest of these people that startled him.

He’d felt off kilter ever since he’d answered the door, an hour before, at Jon’s insistence that “it’s for you, D.”

Which, that was just annoying. The x-ray vision. The flagrant use of powers within the privacy of the apartment. Damian wasn’t used to it. Clark and Jon just…. casually floated around, sometimes. Used heat vision to heat things up. Speed to get chores done in a blink. And x-ray vision to look at and find things.

Damian was becoming progressively more amused by the exasperated glances Lois shot him, though, whenever one of them forgot that the rest of them couldn’t just look through the fridge door to see how many eggs were left.

It usually made him grin, actually. And he’d caught himself giving her the same look, a few times.

When Damian opened the door, however, he kind of wished he did have x-ray vision. Just so he could have had those precious few seconds to prepare himself.

Because on the other side of the door was Tim Drake. Just standing there. Holding a neatly wrapped gift with a card on top, and surrounded by all those people.

“Uhh,” Damian had stammered, a horrid habit he’d acquired from Jon, no doubt.

“Hey,” Tim had said, offering a lopsided grin as he pushed the gift at Damian, “Happy Birthday, gremlin. Gonna let us in?”

So Damian did, and it’d been a literal party ever since.

Which was what was so bewildering.

He’d never had a birthday party before.

Not like this.

They had cake and ice cream, as a group, and suddenly it made sense why Lois and Clark had made such a large cake. Before Damian was allowed to blow out his candles, he had to listen to the group sing him a ridiculous song, and it made him nostalgic for that first birthday he'd had away from the League.

Back when it was just him and Grayson and Alfred.

Grayson had sung this same song, all off key and squeaky, entirely on purpose, just to annoy Damian. But it’d been that gentle teasing, The kind Damian had come to associate with Dick Grayson. The kind that made him ache for his older brother, wishing beyond hope that the man would just hit his head and suddenly remember everything. Even though he knew that was not how brain injuries worked.

But just as the song had done on his 11th birthday, it made Damian feel warm inside on his 14th. It filled, just a little, that empty spot in his chest. The one that so often burned, with a soft almost…. happiness he had a difficult time describing. But damn was he going to cry again today. Especially not in front of all these people.

It was one thing to cry in front of the Kents, but like hell would he make such a mistake in front of the Bats.

“Clark,” Damian asked, once everyone had finished their cake and Clark and Lois were gathering the plates to wash, so they could ‘open presents,’ as Jon had shouted so enthusiastically. Brat probably knew whatever Damian got would be stored in their room, and therefore was basically his, too.

At least, that had been his reasoning, a few weeks back, when Damian caught Jon using his nice markers to draw the most horrific drawing of his dad he’d ever laid eyes on. ‘A school project,’ he had said, ‘we have to draw our favorite superhero.’ Damian had just scoffed and criticized both his misuse of the expensive Copics, as well as his predictable selection of his own father as his favorite superhero.

‘Isn’t Batman your favorite,’ Jon had said, to which Damian scoffed, ‘Yes, but Bruce Wayne is not.’ It had effectively shut Jon up. And relaying the price of each marker had also caused Jon to hand them back over, not wanting to replace any by ruining them.

“Yeah, bud?” Clark asked, smiling as he rinsed off each plate at lightning speed, even while he spoke to Damian. They were alone in the kitchen, and even though it was an open concept apartment, the group was being loud enough that Damian was confident in their privacy.

“Did you invite everyone?” he asked, resisting the urge to look away or pull his hood up. He hated his tells, and he tried his best not to show them.

“No,” Clark said easily, now drying the dishes off and putting them away in the cabinets. Why have a dishwasher when you have a Clark, Lois always said. “Tim did, actually. This entire party was his idea.”

“Tim Drake,” Damian asked incredulously. Because that made no sense. Damian had just been curious whether he should thank the Kents or Alfred for the party. It had never even crossed his mind that Tim might be the culprit.

Because what the hell??

“Is there more than one Tim?” Clark asked, clearly amused, now just leaning back against the sink to chat.

Well, yes, there was more than one Tim, Damian thought, but it was true that he didn’t personally know another Tim. It’s just, never in a million years would he have expected Tim Drake to be the one to do something so…. thoughtful. To be the reason Damian felt at peace for once, in a world without Dick Grayson, that is. And without Father around.

“But… Tim hates me?” Damian whispered, failing to prevent his shock from showing on his face, “Why would he….”

When Damian trailed off, Clark just frowned. “I don’t know what all has gone down between you two,” Clark said slowly but softly. In that same tone he always used when comforting Damian. He kind of hated that he liked it so much. “But I can tell you this: He does not hate you. I’d venture to say he actually loves you.”

All Damian could do was shake his head. Because no. No no no no no. That wasn’t right.

That couldn’t be right.

Tim Drake did not love Damian. Tim was the one who always rolled his eyes whenever Damian started speaking at family meetings. He was the one who groaned whenever Damian crashed one of his cases. When he had to team up with the Teen Titans, and Damian was there. When Father assigned them to patrol together. When he just remembered Damian existed, in general.

And it’s not like Damian didn’t deserve it. He realized, now, how wrongly he had treated his ‘brother’ from the beginning. Pushing him off the dinosaur had been unforgivable, he now knew. The fact Tim even tolerated him enough to simply groan and roll his eyes at his presence was more than Damian deserved, after breaking so many of his bones for no good reason.

So, no, Tim Drake did not love Damian. It was impossible. If their roles were reversed, Damian would never forgive Tim. Ever. Would be glad to be rid of him after this whole thing went down between Father and the rest of them, pulling Damian out of Gotham and Tim away from Father.

“Damian,” Clark said, wrapping his arm around Damian’s shoulders and pulling him in a little, “whatever is going around in that head of yours is wrong, okay? Tim cares about you, pal. Otherwise he wouldn’t have reached out weeks ago to make these plans. All those people over there care about you. They wouldn’t be here if they didn’t, okay?”

Resting the side of his head against Clark for a second, the only acceptance of the half hug he’d show, Damian looked at the group of people sitting in the living room, carrying on and laughing about whatever dumb thing Jason had just said.

Steph noticed he was staring, and she smiled brightly and called, “Come on, birthday boy. Come open your presents, and be prepared to be amazed by my awesome gift. Everything else on this table pales in comparison, I promise.”

“Shut up,” Jason said, tossing a chip at her for the comment, “I’ll have you know my gift is very thoughtful and incredible. The demon will cry I tell you. Cry.”

“Pfft,” Tim said loudly, “Mine’s the best. Kon already confirmed it.”

“That’s cheating,” Steph screeched, “You can’t use powers like that!”

It just devolved into chaos from there, as the lot of them continued arguing. Clark squeezed Damian’s shoulder and said, “Go on. I don’t think they’ll stop until you open them all and declare a winner.”

“Tt,” Damian huffed, even though he was smiling a little, “it is not proper to play favorites with gifts. It is the thought that counts, I have been told.”

“There’s the Alfred in you,” Clark said fondly, pushing Damian toward the living room.

The gifts were all incredible. Well, some more-so than others. Jason got him a gift card to one of the local art supply chains, as well as a copy of one of his favorite books. Alfred got him a set of teas, all of his favorites from when he was living in the manor. Steph got him a cartoon-style Robin figure, which was just insulting and kind of hilarious.

But when Damian opened Tim’s gift, he make sure to pay attention to his brother’s face, without making it obvious he was doing so. Tim’s expressions were carefully blank, but Damian could tell he was doing that to cover up for anxiety and excitement for whatever he had gotten Damian. And once the item was fully unwrapped, all Damian could do was gawk.

Because in Damian’s hands was a set of extremely rare natural pigments. He actually hadn’t even heard of half of the pigment sources, that was how obscure they were. But they were some of the most vibrant colors he’d ever seen. Bright purple, rich orange, dark blue, deep red, just to name a few of the colors he saw.

They were…. incredible.

He actually could not wait to mix some of them up and try them out.

“I got them in the gem world,” Tim explained, “a lot of those are made from materials not found on earth.”

When Damian realized what that confession meant, he almost did cry. Because at some point, months ago, before this entire fiasco had even begun, Tim Drake had seen a set of pigments while stranded in another dimension and thought ‘hey, Damian would like those,’ and then got them. Stored them away and waited for his birthday, and then planned an entire party when he realized the Bats were not doing one.

Just that realization threatened to set him over the edge again, but instead he just smiled.

He smiled and started to think that, yeah. Maybe Tim didn’t hate him.

Damian definitely didn’t hate Tim.

[meetthetank]

Cruciamen Chapter 5: Rematch

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25104214/chapters/69006306 Rating: Mature Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: F/M, Other Fandom: NieR: Automata (Video Game) Relationships: 2B/9S (NieR: Automata), A2/A4 (NieR: Automata) Characters: 2B (NieR: Automata), 9S (NieR: Automata), A2 (NieR: Automata), A4 (NieR: Automata), Emil (NieR: Automata), Kainé (Nier) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, genre typical violence, On the Run, Monster of the Week, 9S is a half demon, 2B and A2 are shapeshifter Dragons, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Smut in the future, inaccurate depictions of medical procedures, Fantasy Biology, A2 is Nonbinary If A2 were more inclined to study themself, they’d find it hilarious in a dark way that collecting the salinified remains of human beings with a witch and a skeletally thin boy with his ornery horse becomes a weekly chore. It’d be just a tad less horrible if said ornery horse would stop trying to bite their fingers off if they so much as looked at her the wrong way. Emil had to diffuse at least three fights between them and Halua on the way to the ruins. They’ve never seen a horse so attached to one person, but Halua seems to hate everyone besides Emil, who she constantly nuzzles up against begging for pats and sweet grass.

Despite the complaints toward the heat, horse, and sand, searching for salt statues with Kainè and Emil is much more tolerable. It’s easier for them to defile the remains of long-dead humans when they have someone to chat with. Kainè complains like a molting elder about anything that moves, but especially the sun. A2 has never heard that big bright ball be called so many slurs in so many languages, but they find themselves chucking at the witch’s disdain for it. Emil sings jaunty tunes he makes up on the spot as he gleefully fills and organizes bags of people salt onto Halua’s cart. Sometimes when Kainè isn’t looking he lets his horse have a pinch as a treat. Most of the time A2 lets Emil ramble on about whatever he likes, only occasionally stopping their work to embellish on a one word answer they shoot his way. 

However when the sun begins to set over the dunes and paints the sky a brilliant orange, A2 excuses themself to stretch their wings. They tell Kainè that they’re going to scout for anything weird, but the glare she gives them is telling enough. She knows why A2 wants to wander off, but she says nothing in the way of stopping them. Maybe they had done enough work to satisfy the old witch. 

A2 has another mission sent down by Kainè as well. They’re supposed to search out more of a similar kind of ruins as well as a certain kind of track. The ruins are simple enough to understand. The lingering brickwork and defiant spires are easy to spot so long as there weren’t any dunes or dust storms in the way, but the second thing that they’re supposed to look out for gives them pause.

Kaine described footprints. Large, five-toed footprints with scale imprints. A2 knows for certain that she wants them to be on the lookout for a dragon, but they had never heard of a dragon with a footprint like that. Or that large. Kaine made it sound like the prints were as big as their whole torso, but A2 doubts that there’s anything that big that’ll leave a footprint. The Hegel demon is the largest thing they’ve seen and that thing floats. 

Regardless of the chore they’ve been assigned, A2 is just happy to spread their wings without their chest hurting. Soaring over the expanse of sand on the hot desert winds brings a lightness to their body and mind that they hadn’t felt in a long time. It’s liberating in a way that makes them want to keep flying and see where the winds take them. They inhale lungs full of scorching air and push themselves straight into the bright blue sky. Once they reach the height where the air becomes cold, they tuck their wings into their body and allow themselves to free fall back to earth. The rush of the winds and sky around them makes their heart thunder against their hollow bones. Dust whips past them, their third eyelids doing all they can to protect their eyes from the outside world. Their blood sings through their veins, carrying liquid excitement and terror as they plummet. The moment they feel a rush of hot air they spread their wings out and swoop into a comfortable gliding position. The raw energy in their body causes a roar to break through their throat and echo out through the desert. 

The raw freedom of the skies and the elation that comes with is in a moment replaced with sinking dread.

Beyond the great dunes the size of mountains, something creates clouds of dust and sand. It swirls with powerful gusts of wind, forming a massive wall of infinitely small particles. It almost reaches to the sky and looms over a large portion of the desert like a slumbering beast. A2 doesn’t have much knowledge of desert weather, but they don’t think that dust storms like that are supposed to stay in one area. Judging by the directions of the winds, which blow back towards where Kaine and Emil are, the storm should have been on them about an hour ago. Something is either creating it, or keeping it there.

Suddenly a great bulbous shape shoots out from the clouds of sand and into the sky. The rumbling bellow of Hegel rolls across the desert like thunder as the demon rises from the storm and into the air. Its tendrils slither and writhe across its body, no doubt clearing the dust and sand from its body. Puffs of hot air escape from its mouths, adding more sand to the quickly dissipating storm.

The freedom that sang through A2’s chest is replaced by a burning fury. 

They beat their wings with all the hate they can push through their muscles. Blood roars through their veins as the desert winds sting their eyes and throat.

The grit their beak and teeth together, gnashing them in anticipation of sinking them into the soft flesh of the demon. Their claws ache for the feeling of its blood pouring over them as they tear the skin and muscles apart. With blistering speed they gain on Hegel as it lazily rises into the sky. The demon doesn’t seem to notice them until they’re close enough to smell it’s putrid breath. Its eyes lock onto A2, shrinking in fear the instant it recognizes them. A2 prepares for a blast of energy to come flying their way, but Hegel opens its maw and lets out a trumpeting bellow that rolls across the desert like thunder. It’s body undulates, thrusting itself into the distance at terrifying speeds.

A2 puts all their power into chasing after Hegel. A familiar heat sings through their body, spurring their muscles to work harder than they thought possible, but Hegel proves just as fast despite its size. Each time A2 dives to attack with claws or beak, the demon simply moves out of the way with little effort. As frustrating as their aerial dance is, A2 gains on Hegel bit by bit. Their beak scrapes against its flesh though fails to hook into it. The demon squeals with terror and jets forward with all its might, putting several yards between them in one burst of speed.

Just as they begin to gain on the demon once more, a great shadow passes over A2, something far larger than they expected to see in the desert. They beat their wings in a panicked attempt to avoid the shadow, forcing themself to stop mid-flight. The shadow shifts across the dunes faster than A2 can perceive, and a red shape that dwarfs them appears between them and the fleeing demon.

A powerful gust of wind throws A2 off balance and sends them careening to the ground. They flail their body and beat their wings in a futile attempt to right themself but the ground rushes up to them much faster than they hoped. The sand erupts around them in a dense cloud that obscures the gargantuan thing that looms above them. All they can see is a shape with immense wings.

With one great flap, the creature blows the sand clouds away from A2, revealing a monster they had only heard of in fantastic stories told to them as a cub. Scales as red as blood, leathery wings that call the winds of a hurricane, and a sneer that drips with malice and venom. Its body, from long neck to whip-like tail, moves like a serpent or a lizard’s; undulating with each movement. Each of its four feet, which could be as big as A2, are tipped with wicked black claws on each of the five toes. Its evil orange eyes burn with the same kind of disdain that one would use towards an insect or rodent. Simply being near its body makes the air searing hot to the point where A2 thinks their feathers would catch fire.

“Cease, fowl,” the beast snarls in a voice that rumbles like thunder.

A2 is never one to flinch from anything, but they find themself cowering into the ground at the monster’s words. They press themself to the ground in a submissive pose, though their feathers still flare out in a display of aggression and warning. Whatever good that will do. If this thing wanted them dead, all it would have to do is breathe.

The red beast snorts a small jet of flames and holds its head high above them, “Pitiful. How dare your species call yourselves dragons.”  It beats its great crimson wings and ascends into the sky. “Fool that you are to attack beings greater than yourself. I extend this warning out of contempt, not kinship or kindness. Cease, or be erased.”

And just as fast as the monster appears it takes to the skies once more and soars westward, vanishing into the afternoon sun. It is only after it disappears that A2 realizes they’re shivering so much that some of their loose feathers fall to the ground. Their heart threatens to burst from their chest, and their lungs strain with rapid, uneven breaths. It’s only the sight of Hegel in the distance that snaps them out of their fear induced daze. 

Despite the threat veiled as a warning, A2 can’t fight the instincts that push them to their feet once again. They’d probably never get a chance to kill the demon that something that powerful protects, for what reason they don’t care. It takes all their self control not to fly after Hegel out of pure spite for the red beast, but instead they start in the direction they came from, back towards Emil and Kainè.

They’ve never flown as fast in their life. The ruins come into view within moments; they can even see Emil waving his hands to try and get their attention. Kaine stands at the top of one of the spires, balancing only on the balls of her feet. A2 can see the scowl she throws their way as they pass her. They all but crash into the sand, kicking up more clouds of dust as they transform.

“A2!” Emil shouts as he runs up to her, “Are you okay?! Did he hurt you?!”The moment they land, Emil is on them. He checks them for cuts, burns, broken bones, any kind of injury he can find. They don’t have the energy to swat his arms away.

“No…” They let out a few quick, ragged breaths. “I’m okay…”

Kaine hops down from her perch and approaches the two with a scowl clear on her face. Part of A2 wants to snap at her before she can chew them out for being stupid, but they’re so damn tired after that sprint flight.

“What… What was that thing?” they ask, not giving Kaine the chance to launch into her scolding.

Kaine huffs, “A big ugly bastard.” A2 glares at Kaine and opens their mouth to say something only for Emil to shake his head at them.

“That was Grigori,” he says. “A true dragon.”

Emil’s words send a shiver down A2’s spine. They had heard of creatures like that before, but only in Elder’s tales made to scare cubs into listening to their parents. Even after seeing the wide variety of demons and monsters that lurk in the world, they never imagined something as terrifying a true dragon could actually exist.

“I knew he’d wake up sooner or later,” Kaine grumbles, “Asshole always looking to stir shit up or burn down a few cities for shits and giggles.

”Emil shoots the old witch a glare but decides not to say what was on the tip of his tongue (if he has one. A2 still isn’t sure).

“We should head back home just in case the big red bastard is looking for a snack,” Kaine mutters.

But when A2 stands back from the duo, recognition flashes across Kaine’s face. There’s the same kind of determination, the sorrowful desperation that only a person with nothing to lose has. She says nothing as Emil looks back and forth between the two of them.

“A-...A2 are you coming?” he asks, but the tone in his voice suggests he already knows the answer.

“No,” they say, shaking their head, “I was chasing Hegel before that… before Grigori showed up. I’m not letting it get away again.

”Emil starts to tell them what a dangerous and terrible idea that is, that it’s far too dangerous for them to go in their condition, that they need to stay and recover all their strength; but A2 tunes him out to the point where he’s nothing but muttering noises. It’s Kaine that holds their attention instead. There’s a sadness in her violet eyes hidden, behind a scowl. Yet she remains silent as Emil pleads for them to stay for just a little longer.

“Sorry,” they say, turning back to Emil, “But… I guess I don’t really care if it’s dangerous or not. I’m going to kill every demon I can find.

”Emil is stunned into silence. He casts his eyes to the ground and for a moment A2 almost feels bad enough to apologize and stay with him and Kaine. But their mind drifts back to the black feather that hangs off the pommel of their sword and the pit of sorrow and hatred opens up in their stomach once again.

A long bout of silence stretches on between the three before Kaine finally speaks up. “Well, get going then. If you wait any longer you’ll lose it.”

Emil frets with his sleeves but keeps to himself. With a quiet sigh A2 saunters over to say a quick goodbye to the kid, but once they’re close enough he lunges forward and wraps his arms around her in a tight, bony hug. 

“I’ll miss you.” he mutters, and A2 can’t stop themself from reciprocating.

“Yeah… Thank you for everything. Take care, kid.”

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Dragon Raja III: Oasis

Akira watched the armored convoy coming across the causeway from his bedroom window seat. It had been decorated with colored lights. A crowd mingled among the banquet tables, holding cups of wine.

Even though it was Erii’s birthday, most people were here for other reasons. Few people knew the Uesugi Clan Chief well enough to even have her birthday as a reminder on their phone. They brought gifts because they were invited. They actually didn’t care for her at all.

But as Akira watched the many cars come across the water, He could see in his mind: Her face, behind a dark veil, in her elaborate white Kimono, sitting behind the opaque glass. His blood quickened. 

Master List

He hadn’t seen her in so long. Their first meeting was brief and they quickly bonded when they realized their love of all things anime and video games. She caught every obscure Evangelion reference. She understood when he talked about why Full Alchemist Brotherhood was better than Avatar the Last Airbender and why everyone else was wrong.

He clutched the precious box in his hands. Who knew when they would actually see each other again after this. There was one more thing they held in common.

Isolation.

Ever since leaving the mountain village, Akira had been largely confined to this island. It was a comfortable existence. But there were no other people outside staff. They texted and played together. But it wasn’t the same as being with each other. Times like these were like oases in the desert. He lifted his chin and closed his eyes, his romantic heart imagining the two of them as camels who had to journey long distances between pools of water.

He had every intention of drinking his fill of her presence tonight.

His long hair was lifted up in a topknot, waving in a ponytail as he made his way downstairs. He would be seated next to Aniki at the banquet. But he figured that wouldn’t last long before he was pulled away on official business. It wasn’t his fault and, while he felt sorry for Erii who genuinely wanted to spend more time with her brother, tonight it would present an opportunity to give her his second gift.

He arrived in the private dining room, a spring in his step. Chisei was already there and he took his spot next to him.

“Did you manage to get the gift?” Chisei asked him.

“Oh yes... “ His face broke into a bright smile. “It turned out even better than I expected.”

His aniki lowered his eyes, giving him a fond smile. “I have better news. I’ve already talked to Sakura about getting your tattoo completed after this. It will take a few days. We should make a trip out of it.”

Akira couldn’t contain his excitement. “Wow! Really!”

Chisei chuckled. 

But then Akira sobered. “You always want to do things for me. One day, I’ll pay you back for all of it. Just you wait.”

“I haven’t done anything you haven’t deserved. Paying me back is not necessary.”

The doors slid open and she was there, resplendent in white winged sleeves, her red hair cascading around her veiled face.  He tried his hardest to sit still, to not let the tears come to his eyes, to not let anyone see his hands tremble.

His eyes followed her as she walked over to take her place, Chisei between them. He fumbled the box in his hands. She looked at it.

“Happy Birthday Erii...” He stammered.

Chisei was in the way of his view when she sat down. He craned his neck to see her behind his back and then felt his sharp elbow hit his arm. He turned his head to face front again.

The rest of the patriarchs filed in, including Tachibana. Akira lowered his eyes, feeling his imposing presence. Every time he was around him, he felt uncomfortable. He wanted to be invisible. He sat still, while he offered his gift to Erii. A beautiful pearl necklace. 

It was a good present, he had to admit it. It was lovely and feminine but not over the top. He felt a sudden nervousness. Would she actually like his gift?

The evening meal was brought in. It was lovely and he felt bad that his stomach was tied into knots. All around him people were talking shop. But Akira could hardly focus.

“I must say you’ve done a fantastic job as High Patriarch, Chisei...” Tachibana said. “Better even than I imagined.”

Chisei did not smile. “I’m only doing my duties as required.”

Akira swallowed, his throat closing for a different reason. His responsibilities always took him away. And he was starting to have a bad feeling that Tachibana was about to lay something else on him. Why even come to the birthday party if he was just going to do that? He was such a cold hearted person.

He held on to his box. Times like now were precious and shouldn’t be sullied with silly business. He leaned over. “Hey... Erii...”

“Not now, Akira.”

Tachibana chuckled. “Let him give his present. He won’t eat otherwise.” 

Chisei sat back so he could hand her the box. She accepted it. It wasn’t wrapped and she went ahead and opened it. She picked up the phone, with the Pikachu cover.

Tachibana frowned. Chisei resisted a groan.  His look said it all. Disappointed disbelief.

Akira squeezed his hands into fists. He didn’t care what they thought.

But Erii powered it up, her eyes were drawn to the Pokemon Go! app. A message was written as the short cut name. “Happy birthday.” She clicked it. Her eyes widened.

She smiled, giving a soft surprised sigh. She turned to him and signed. “Thank you.”

“You’re lucky. I didn’t even have to trade for it.” He said.

Her smile didn’t vanish. She completely ignored the rest of the guests and started playing on her new phone with her now completed pokedex. Her eyes focused sharply, looking at every entry in turn.

He couldn’t suppress his own smile. He pulled out his own phone and challenged her to a battle.

Chisei resigned himself and sat between them as they enthusiastically ignored the world.

As far as they were concerned, this party was over.

[spookyspaghettisundae]

All Eyes on You

Maybe it could have been a regular weekend for me, but there’s no way for me to tell if I was the one who screwed everything up. I was a bit hungover from the night before, so my head weighed a ton and every source of bright light made me cringe in pain—whether it was the fluorescent neon tubes overhead or the daylight streaming in through the store’s front windows.

Every single beep of the cashier running items over the scanner at checkout was like a tiny knife being stuck into my skull, over and over and over again, even though I was fairly far away from it, browsing the unnecessary amount of different brands of laundry detergent.

I grabbed some random one that had nice soft colors and chucked it into my shopping cart. It caused the whole thing to shake and rattle and a person pushing past me gave me a dirty look.

Under any other circumstances, I wouldn’t have wasted any thought on this, but today was different. Now, everything was different. Now, as I looked up, and past that guy shooting me the disparaging glance, I realized that everybody in the store was looking at me.

“Feeling watched” would have been the understatement of the century.

It was so weird and jarring that I forgot about the effects of my hangover for the next few minutes. In part because my heart was racing, in part because my mind was going wild with conspiracy theories and rampant paranoia.

Although I pretended to not care or not notice, I could tell that everybody in the store was looking at me at one point or the other. Normally, I would have chalked this up to something silly, like one of my friends having written something on my forehead with a magic marker while I was passed out.

But with what had happened the night before, I knew better. I knew something was wrong. Horribly wrong.

It didn’t help that some of these people would pretend to not be looking at me, either—furtive glances, eyes quickly darting down to study a shopping list on their phone, or to act like they were looking over grocery items on the shelves. Anything to avoid eye contact with me.

I know what you’re thinking. Just allow me to dial back and explain before you make up your mind.

The night before, I was feeling pretty depressed. I was still pretty new in this town and knew nobody around there. Just some backwater town in the middle of nowhere. The rent on the apartment I had found there was cheap, and the commute to my workplace only an hour which was a vast improvement over my last home.

So I grabbed some beers, drove up to a lonesome little picnic area on the forest’s edge that I had seen on the first day I had visited town when I went to go scout out the apartment a few months ago, and decided to chill out there and watch the sunset after a tedious Friday at work.

The whole day had dragged on at a snail’s pace and I just wanted to unwind and not stare at any screens for a few hours.

I sat there, nursing my first beer, sitting on top of the backrest of the bench like a rebel, when I spotted a mansion near the forest’s edge. I mean, I had seen it before when I first took a drive through this town, but it was only now that I noticed a few funny details about it. And when I say “funny,” I don’t mean the amusing sort.

It had a large red brick wall encircling the entire yard—and that place was as big as a football field. The large mansion matched that appearance, also featuring red bricks and sandstone and wood in its construction, and a lot of unusual details like a tower built into the corner of it. Everything was overgrown with lush green ivy, and there were some nice-looking trees on the property.

So far, so idyllic.

The weird part were the men in green camo clothing, carrying what I think were assault rifles. They patrolled around the inside of the walls, so it was no wonder I hadn’t seen them when I drove through town earlier that year, but being up on the hill at the forest’s edge gave me some elevation and allowed me to see over the walls somewhat.

They were all pretty big-looking dudes. I pegged them for soldiers or something like that—though my imagination wandered to this being a mafioso’s estate and these guys being some well-armed thugs.

It would make sense for some gangster boss to be living well out on the countryside where everything’s nice and quiet, right?

I downed two whole beers and while I had been trying to distract myself with unpacking everything that had happened over the course of the week—both at work and in my personal life—my curiosity got the best of me.

I had to know what the hell this mansion was.

With a simple plan in mind, I packed up everything, and drove back down from the picnic site, now taking a detour so I could casually roll past the mansion. A large steel gate obscured any way of seeing into the mansion’s premises, which was frustrating. In my mind’s eye, I had expected one of those metal fence gates that you can see through, but this one was just a solid surface instead.

Tossing out my original plan, I parked my car across the road by the grass, got out, and walked over. You may be thinking that I was crazy, and I can assure you I am. I was always a bit of a tomboy growing up, and I possessed a fearlessness that got me into trouble every now and then—and because I always got away with playing dumb or innocent, I always got away with my shenanigans and I never learned. Not until this day.

I pressed a button by the gate that I figured to be a buzzer and waited.

Within seconds, a small metal slot opened on the gate, from which a man wearing sunglasses peered through, and it was so sudden and swift in response to my pressing that button that I nearly choked in surprise.

“Yes?” asked the man behind the gate.

“Uh, I was, uh, I was,” I started stammering until my wit finally kicked in. “I was up at the picnic site up here to relax and I had no reception on my phone whatsoever, but I need to make an important call. I figured I could ask here if I could use your land line, or something?”

I slung out my phone and waved it around like a magic wand while flashing this man a dumb smile and shrugging. He looked over his shoulder as if he was responding to someone behind him, but he didn’t say a word. I think he looked up at the picnic site and I could feel the blood draining from my face. Because he turned, though, I saw a weird tattoo on his neck: just a single eye.

Not like I know anything about ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs, but if I had to describe it, that’s what it reminded me of. No fancy elaborate details, just a simple eye. Wide open.

His head turned back with a painful slowness. I could sense the gears churning behind his forehead.

“My phone’s got reception just fine,” said the man. “Here, you can borrow mine.”

I guessed my charm had worked its magic. He held out his phone through the small slot, offering it to me.

Realizing way too late that all of this was a terrible idea, I glanced at my phone and flicked its display on, then chuckled—way too nervously, I presume, “Hey, look at that! I got a bar back. Maybe it was just up at the woods that was not working out for me. Thanks, though.”

The guard slowly withdrew his phone and even though I couldn’t see his eyes, I could have sworn he was glaring at me. I smiled back at him, hoping to disarm any ill will, and started getting really scared about this being some sort of gangster hideout.

“Have a nice day,” he said. But it sounded more like a threat.

He shut the slot with lightning speed and I turned to leave, holding up my phone and pretending to make a call. I yapped away into the void of the non-existent phone call, cringing at my pathetic attempt at emulating a one-sided conversation and the resulting blandness, until I had gotten into my car and slammed the door shut behind me.

My palms were sweaty and cold when they clasped the steering wheel and stick, and I drove away. I was pretty rattled for the rest of the evening although I got back home without any further incident. On the whole ride home, I kept looking into my rear-view mirror to see if I was being followed. And in my paranoia, I thought that some people on sidewalks were shooting me looks, but I dismissed it at the time.

Back at home, I drank the rest of my beers and distracted myself with lousy TV shows until fell asleep.

Then I woke up the next morning, sporting the splitting headache, and decided that things couldn’t be so bad. Because, hey, when it feels like gremlins are pounding the inside of your skull with a jackhammer and your brain’s a funny soup, a lot of worries stop existing. With that state of mind, I went to do my grocery shopping for the week.

And now—this. Everybody watching me. In the confines of my own head, I was calling myself names and cursing myself out for being such a paranoid idiot. There was no reason to be afraid.

But my heart wouldn’t stop racing. Even outside, as I put my groceries in the trunk, I knew that even the people driving in and out of the small parking lot were looking at me.

Watching me.

Worse: I saw that tattoo again. On someone’s forearm. Some lady returning an empty shopping cart to the storefront. She never looked at me directly, but with my back turned to her, I had felt a burning gaze transfixed upon me.

What the hell was this? As an avid reader of strange fiction and horror movie enthusiast, I immediately thought they had to be some sort of cult. What if this entire town was run by a cult? Stranger things have happened.

This was all so surreal. I felt very small and like I was just a passenger in my own body. Everything tingled. My fingers felt numb.

I drove home and shut myself in for the rest of the weekend. I tried to distract myself with TV and video games and even talking to a friend who lived halfway across the country, but nothing helped. I couldn’t help it. I kept thinking that this entire town was crazy and that I was being watched now. I even started getting paranoid if they could tap into my phone or hack my computer, so I avoided telling my friend about anything I had witnessed here.

Just shot the breeze about how life had been for her lately, and put up a good show in pretending that everything was normal on my end.

Come Monday morning, I snuck out of my home and got into my car. Paranoia got the better of me again, so I started checking my ride quite thoroughly, not caring if I would be late for work that day. I had watched too many stupid shows to not think that someone might have tampered with my car. I checked to see if the brakes were working, if there were any bugs, pawing underneath my seats for foreign objects, you name it.

I’m not any sort of professional and if anything was there, I probably missed it. But hey—I tried. Still, I found nothing.

After wasting half an hour on this exercise in futility, I drove off. I never felt so exhilarated to go to work as that day. Because work, for the first time, felt like an escape from something worse. It also felt like an escape from my own head, because I was questioning my own sanity. Surely, the whole town couldn’t be in a cult, right?

I cranked up the music on my radio and sang along to a song I normally hated. And I felt good. For a short while, at least.

It stopped when I drove down the road I usually take to leave town to go to work. A nice narrow road meandering through the wooded area, just like the ones you see in horror flicks.

There was a roadblock in the way once I rounded a curve, with a small jam of cars lined up in front of it. Two police cars obstructed the path and there were some officers standing beside them, one of them talking to the driver in the car at the front of the line. My heart sank, plummeting right into my gut region. I could feel my belly pulsing with my accelerated, anxious heartbeat.

I wonder—does everybody get as nervous as I do whenever I see cops nearby? It’s not like I’d ever done anything wrong, but it had always made me nervous. Even under normal circumstances. Even before this weekend.

But today was different. The events of this weekend had multiplied my paranoia—they had mutated it. If this whole town was run by some weird cult, what if the cops were in on it? What if they were looking for me?

Right when one of the cars was let past the roadblock and drove off, I panicked. I steered out of line and made a U-turn, swerving back onto the road with screeching tires and driving off. It took me a few moments to realize in retrospect that this made me grind my teeth and may have been a stupid move, but I started speeding up and driving away.

The trembling started when I saw a cop car show up behind me, half a minute later. They let the siren wail at me for a split second to grab my attention, and used their blinker to signal me to pull over.

With growing dread, I planned to play along, but step on the gas if things went south.

Even with all the adrenaline rushing through my body, and my attempts to stop my trembling by gripping the steering wheel way harder than natural, I gently steered the car as best I could, driving it onto the roadside and letting it roll to a stop. But I kept the engine running.

A police officer emerged from the car behind me and approached. His hand was resting on the gun at his hip and I wondered if my running motor had anything to do with that.

Or because of this damned cult. Or whatever the hell was going on here.

I rolled down my window once he had arrived there and he looked me up and down. My resolve crumpled and I cut the engine as a token of good will.

“License and registration, please?” asked the police officer in a gravelly voice.

His whole posture was rigid, like a statue—his body language tense. So was I.

Remembering what can go wrong in such an encounter, I carefully leaned over to retrieve the documents from my purse and hand them over. I could feel him watching me all the while, and for the first time in days, I felt like someone watching me was the appropriate action, given the circumstances.

I handed the cop my license and papers and he looked them over, his hand now finally away from the gun, and taking off some of the edge. He studied my face after inspecting my ID.

Then he handed back everything.

“Pardon the interruption, ma'am. Have a nice day,” he told me, and swiveled.

Right when he was walking away was when I saw the tattoo on his neck. The eye—staring at me. Almost as if the damned tattoo itself was watching me.

I never believed in the supernatural or UFOs or any such bunk. But my paranoia was really taking me for a ride now, and I questioned everything I believed in.

When I revved up my engine again and drove off, I still felt the officer’s eyes on me.

Anyway, now you know. That’s how—and why—one day, I bounced from that awful little town, leaving all my belongings behind. How I drove halfway across the states, and started a new life after changing my name.

I’d tell you the town’s name so you can avoid it, but I keep seeing that tattoo in my nightmares. In some of them, it’s like people have an extra eye on their body where there shouldn’t be one, in place of that tattoo. Like the skin breaks open and some bloodshot, weird eye stares at me. Always the same eye.

I still feel watched out in public sometimes. Hell, sometimes I even feel like someone’s watching me at home. I know I should talk to a therapist about this, but I’m afraid they won’t believe me. Or worse.

I got an anonymous call from someone telling me not to talk about what I had seen, but I had to get this off my chest, and maybe nothing bad will happen if I don’t tell you where this was.

—Submitted by Wratts

[causticgin]

i'm gonna hit you with "every other even number" (2, 6, 10, etc.) have fun nerrrrd

2. have you ever found a writer who thinks just like you? if so, who?

I cant say i have! ive certainly found some who were similar in interest or voice, but never the same

4. do you like your name?  is there another name you think would fit you better?

yeah!! i think “crispian” is both unique and obscure enough to be gender-neutral, but id be lying if i said i hadnt considered other names

6. are you religious/spiritual?

not really?? i certainly have beliefs as far as death and consciousness, but ive always found it hard to believe in some higher power (at least, a nice one)

8. what musical artists have you most felt connected to over your lifetime?

despite the flak they get, ive always had a soft spot for the beatles, probably bc i was raised listening to them

10. do you have a creed?

yeah!! ive always strived to be a nice person, and i kinda live by the saying “you lose nothing by being nice” so i try and be as kind as i can! i slip up sometimes but i think i do pretty well

12. dog person or cat person?

lizard person

14. are you a musician?

ptbtbth i wish i was but i dont have the energy for the practice

16. if you’d grown up in a different environment, do you think you’d have turned out the same?

probably!! i know a lot of my own rules about anger and kindness stem from having a mother who never tried to control her anger, so that may not be quite the same. without a lot of my trauma id probably be a lot different too, but im trying to keep this lighthearted

18. what’s your patronus?

patronus is meant to be an something that represents you/an important figure in your life right? the easy answer would be a crab but it would probably be a bit more poetic than that

20. would you rather be in Middle Earth, Narnia, Hogwarts, or somewhere else?

hmmmmm, honestly im not sure where id like to live?? like the options are great but like, think of how easy it is to get murdered there?? ooh ive got it pokemon world. no one gets murdered there.

22. list the top five things you spend the most time doing, in order.

thinking about character/story concepts

talking to my close good friends

lying in bed considering eternity

watching silly videos

playing silly video games

24. have you ever felt like you had a “mind-meld” with someone?

not really? ive def had people i felt very connected/close to, but never to that degree

26. how would you describe your gender/sexuality?

i large pan with no real plan. oh and im probably somewhere between agender and gal 

28. on a scale from 1 to 10, how hard is it for someone to get under your skin?

god id like to say 6-8, but if they know what to aim for probably 2-3

30. pick one of your favorite quotes.

“Theres no point in being grown up, if you cant be childish sometimes” -Tom Baker as the Doctor

[mrhotmaster]

Samsung Galaxy A31 Detailed Review

Samsung Galaxy A31 Review

Complete the gap that exists.

Understanding Samsung's Galaxy An and M arrangement models are getting more earnestly continuously, as new models are gotten with minor revives, however, don't generally arrange in a legitimate request. For instance, the ongoing Galaxy M21 was essentially a Galaxy M30s with an alternate selfie camera, however passing by the model names, it's difficult to make that association.

While a few models in the A and M arrangement have slight covers in estimating, there's as yet a generally clear qualification between the arrangement themselves. As a rule, most models in the An arrangement will in general have better completes and fancier highlights, for example, in-show unique finger impression sensors, while the M arrangement organizes low costs.

Today, we are going to seek a new Galaxy A31 from Samsung, which will succeed in the Galaxy A30 on board. Contrasted with the last mentioned, the new model offers a fourth back camera, a greater battery, a higher-goals show, full help for Samsung Pay, and a more significant expense tag. Accessible in only a solitary arrangement with 6GB of RAM and 128GB of capacity for Rs. 21,999, does the Galaxy A31 merit a spot in our pined for a rundown of top telephones under Rs. 25,000?. How about we see.

Samsung Galaxy A31 Design: Been there, seen that

Given the fact that the Galaxy A31 's structure is not new to a Samsung financial program, I like how slim and compact it is. The all-polycarbonate body feels very tough yet it gets fingerprints without any problem. The telephone has a perceptibly thick jawline underneath the screen and an Infinity-U pattern at the top for the selfie camera.

There's a colossal SIM plate on the left, for two SIM cards and a microSD card. The earphone jack, USB Type-C port, and a speaker are at the base. The rear shows the Prism Crush feature of Samsung, whose blue edition we have. This telephone is additionally accessible in back and white trims. The quad-camera bunch at the back is a rectangular module and doesn't swell outward a lot.

In general, the Galaxy A31 was agreeable to use every day during this survey. It's somewhat wide, and arriving at the highest point of the presentation isn't the most straightforward, however, One UI has signals to help with this. In the wake of seeing numerous telephones in the arrangement with a similar example on the back, the structure has begun to feel a touch of exhausting now. The container substance is quite standard as well: there's a silicone case, a charger, a USB link, and a headset.

Samsung Galaxy A31 Display: AMOLED never baffles

The Galaxy A31 has a sharp full HD plus Super AMOLED display of 6.4-inch of resolution of 1080 by 2400 pixels. I saw it as more than sufficient as far as splendor, even in the daytime. Hues were a piece unreasonably rich for my preference for the default 'Striking' mode, however, this can be mitigated in the settings. The showcase is level, with no bends on the sides, however, there are no sharp edges either so performing signals isn't an issue.

There's an in-show unique mark sensor, which isn't extremely speedy yet functions admirably as long as you give it a firm press. The time taken to wake the screen, alongside the unique mark activities, cause this entire procedure to feel a piece laggy. I typically depended on face acknowledgment, which I saw as snappier. The consistently in plain view has fundamental customizations, for example, the capacity to show what melody is playing, and a decision of various clock styles.

Samsung Galaxy A31 Performance: Quite baffling

In spite of its conventional form quality and great showcase, its presentation is a major issue. Samsung uses the MediaTek Helio P65 octa-center soc, so I have no issue with the cost of a telephone which is Rs .10,000, even though I can only expect Rs.20000. Contrasted with even the Galaxy M21, which utilizes the Exynos 9611 and costs much less, the Galaxy A31 is slower in the greater part of the famous benchmarks.

Samsung's One UI v2.1, in light of Android 10, additionally feels somewhat languid generally speaking. There's a persevering trace of falter in the movements, and slack when I was exchanging between applications. It didn't hamper utilization to an extreme however holding up that additional second or two for things to happen isn't an encounter I expect at this value point. One UI itself is reasonably include rich with heaps of alternate routes, topics, and signals to mess with. There's likewise Dolby Atmos, yet just for wired and remote earphones.

The Galaxy A31 bolsters Google's Widevine L1 confirmation, which implies video spilling applications can play content at the presentation's local goals. The single speaker gets genuinely noisy however the sound quality is carefully normal. Straightforward games run well, yet heavier titles, for example, Asphalt 9: Legends or even PUBG Mobile ran at diminished design settings. Ongoing interaction was middle of the road yet they didn't look on a par with they ought to have. I additionally saw a touch of warming when messing around for longer spans. 

Samsung Galaxy A31 Cameras: The Mistake Proceeds 

Alright, so far the Galaxy A31 isn't looking excessively engaging, yet maybe it can vindicate itself with its camera execution. The four cameras on the back incorporate an essential 48-megapixel sensor, an 8-megapixel sensor with a wide-point focal point, a 5-megapixel profundity camera, and a 5-megapixel full-scale camera. The openings of the considerable number of cameras aren't especially amazing, with even the one on the principle camera being simply f/2.0. The front camera utilizes a 20-megapixel sensor.  The camera application ought to be natural to most Samsung clients, however, I found a couple of missing highlights which should have been there. Recalling the expense and location of the handset, it's a little strange not to have 4K video capture as an option and even a low-light night-mode quiet. Master mode is disabled, with no alternative to change the screen speed. Self-adjust speed is fair, however, this telephone will in general chase for center in low light.

You do get Samsung's 'Scene optimizer' AI motor, and the capacity to spare stills and video in the HEIF and HEVC groups. Under great light, the primary sensor catches better than average looking photographs. Pictures are caught as 12-megapixel shots as a matter of course yet you can take shots at the full 48-megapixel goals if necessary. In low light, the clamor is smothered well however subtleties are inadequate with regards to, which is recognizable when you zoom in to photographs a piece. Close-ups shot under great light passage better, with great subtleties and hues, however, because of screen slack, even slight developments can cause obscuring.

The wide-point camera catches relatively more vulnerable subtleties, and HDR isn't as powerful as on the primary camera. In low light, subtleties are a lot of more awful and there's no Night mode to help rescue shots.

Live Focus works adequately well, and the measure of foundation obscure can be balanced for picture shots. The large scale camera makes a reasonable showing with extraordinary close-ups yet I didn't see picture quality as far superior to what I've seen from telephones with 2-megapixel sensors.

Recordings are restricted to 1080p goals, however, quality is respectable given plentiful light when shooting with the essential camera. The Galaxy A31 does not even offer electronic adjustment, and therefore the developments look jerky with the camera. You can't change to the wide-point camera while recording however you can change to it before you start. True to form, video quality is just about satisfactory under great light yet poor in low light. There's no adjustment here either.

The selfie camera catches 12-megapixel stills naturally (8-megapixels in the event that you pick a more tight yield). Be that as it may, you can take shots at the local goals as well. Selfies are commonly usable when shooting outside, in sunlight. Skin tones will in general look excessively warm and HDR can be an all in or all out, yet it's not all that awful. The camera battles to recreate great subtleties in low light, frequently leaving you with delicate surfaces and feeble subtleties.

In general, the cameras on the Galaxy A31 are very disappointing and need numerous highlights that you'd find in numerous telephones that cost much less.

Samsung Galaxy A31 Battery: Pretty great

On the off chance that there is one saving grace about the Galaxy A31, at that point it would be battery life. The 5,000mAh battery went on for 18 hours and 11 minutes in our HD video circle test, which is awesome. Indeed, even with standard utilization, I was effectively ready to work out positively past a day on a solitary charge. There is 15W quick charging, so you can energize the battery to 50 percent in 60 minutes, yet filling it totally takes well more than two hours.

Decision: Who is the Samsung Galaxy A31 for?

I'm battling to locate a valid justification for the Galaxy A31 to exist, and I sincerely can't consider one. It appears just as Samsung has propelled it basically to fill the value hole between the Galaxy A50s【₹ 19,475 and the Galaxy A51 (Review) — both of which would be a greatly improved pick than the Galaxy A31. Battery life is the principle champion element here, alongside the nice form quality and show.

Be that as it may, the mediocre SoC execution and disappointing cameras are flaws that are too glaring to even consider ignoring when you're paying more than Rs. 20,000. Regardless of whether the value were to drop, there are a lot of all the more remarkable and highlight rich choices in the market, for instance, telephones of Realme and Xiaomi, or Samsung's own Galaxy A50s and Galaxy M31.

REVIEWS

⓻

DES

IGN

⓼

DIS

PLAY

⓽

SOFT

WARE

⓺

SHOW

⓽

BATT

ERY

⓺

CAM

ERA

⓹

FOR MON

EY

✔GOOD

✘BAD

☞ Great Battery Life

☞ Solid Vivid Display

☞ Great One UI

☞ System Performance Is Not Good

☞ Mediocre Cameras

☞ Slow Fingerprint Sensor

☞ Old And Boring Design

KEY SPECIFICATIONS

DISPLAY

6.40-Inches

FRONT CAMERA

20MP

PROCESSOR

MediaTek Helio P65

RAM

6GB

STORAGE

128GB

OS

Android 10

BATTERY

5000mAh

REAR CAMERA

48MP+8MP

+5MP+5MP

RESOLUTION

1080x2400p

ALSO SEE

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[drink-n-watch]

  Genre : Action, comedy, supernatural, urban fantasy, science fiction.

Episodes: 13

Studio: Bones

  You know what’s tricky? Navigating that confusing time between childhood and adulthood. Especially if you grew up as a bit of a loner. Feeling outcast and different all the time. And that type of isolation can cut deep. Loneliness can get to you and turn you into someone you don’t want to be. Luckily for Mob, he’s always had a loving family by his side. And master Reigen has always supported him best he can. And now, without even realizing it, Mob is surrounded by friends. But what would have happened if he wasn’t? What would a powerful psychic like that turn out to be without others to keep him grounded?

The first season of Mob Psycho came as a long-delayed delightful surprise to me. I had been putting off the series for reasons that are obscure even to me, and when I finally got around to watching the first season a month or so ago, I wanted to kick myself for waiting so long. Mob Psycho made me happy. Eager to learn from my mistakes I watched a few palette cleanser shows and dove right into the second season. Let’s see if I’m kicking myself again.

  is the suspense killing you?

  Production-wise, there isn’t much change between the two seasons. Mostly because it was a really solid production, to begin with. I was slightly more taken with Itou, Setsuo voice acting this season but only because a few scenes allowed him to tap into this calm and melancholy tone that he does very well. Mob Psycho has always been a visually distinctive show and the aesthetic is once again rigidly upheld. If you didn’t like the look of the show before, you still won’t. If like me you really liked it, well you can figure out the rest.

All of this said there were two notable improvements in my opinion. One is expanded colour palettes. There are dusk and early morning scenes that bathe everything onscreen in a wash of colours. Environments get plunged in sudden ominous darkness as superpowered character shine. It really gave a lot of dimension to the series and made Mob Psycho 100 II look lush compared to its predecessor.

The second visible improvement was the animation. Not that it was bad in season 1, to the contrary , but there is a whole lot more this time around and it’s awesome. The action is exaggerated and quick-paced with insane ragdoll physics and skewed perspectives that are frankly just plain fun to watch. I found myself completely engrossed in fight scenes no matter how obviously unrealistic they were, unable to turn away and biting at my thumbnail.

  I’m telling you, it looks great!

  Sadly I have a feeling that if you don’t like the art style, no matter how much praise I heap on the animation, it won’t sway you. So let’s talk story!

I recently wrote a post on 100 Word Anime discussing the pitfalls of comparing one anime to another so let me do it again right now… Mob Psycho season 2 reminded me of Natsume’s Book of Friends.

Some of you may know that I compared Mob Psycho 100 to Neon Genesis Evangelion. The first season did in fact bring that show to mind for me. This second season, however, has matured and tweaked its themes and no longer brought to mind the classic series for me. Now you may think I’m just using another excuse to mention Natsume yet again, I don’t blame you. I do that. But there is a reason. When I say Mob Psycho II reminds me of Natsume I mean specifically season 3.

The second season of Mob Psycho is a wild ride. The action is geared way up and the stakes have been raised considerably. Yet for all the heart-pounding adventures what I took away from the season was just how much Mob and the show itself had grown. I actually wrote it in my notes after the first episode and couldn’t help but grin like a Cheshire when the characters on screen started to echo that exact thought throughout the season. It’s great when you can feel like part of the team.

  well…most of the time

  The second thing I wrote is just how beautiful Mob’s personal evolution was. The young boy isolated and bound by anxiety and fear had come out of his shell. Without even realizing it, he suddenly finds himself surrounded by friends and for the first time even something akin to peers. And because he finally has that support system available to him, he can finally find the strength to confront his own power. He actually starts using it to help others in mundane situations instead of only having it as a last resort. His emotional gauge actually gets filled by positive feelings just as often as negative ones if not more so. He no longer sees himself merely as a burden to others and therefore he no longer is.

I wrote all these notes down happily then went over them. When that early feeling of deja vu hit me. As I leafed through my past notebooks I realized that I had written almost word for word the exact same thing for the third season of Natsume. Clearly, I need to get a bit more varied in my note-taking but it also shows that I know what I like. And make no mistake I loved this second season of Mob Psycho.

Reigen is my favourite character in the series. I generally love tricksters but beyond that, I think that one of the main reasons Mob didn’t fall apart in his younger years was because he always had Reigen by his side. I doubt I’m the only one with a soft spot for the 2-part midseason mini-arc that developed Reigen and Mob’s relationship specifically.

  these are some great episodes

  I always thought that Reigen genuinely cares about the boy beyond what use he could make of him. Fact is, Reigen is scripted to ooze shifty sleeve but when push comes to shove he’s actually an extremely capable guy. Ok, not as a psychic obviously but as a con artist, definitely. More often than not his advice is pretty good, he has impressive observations skills and is a wonderful huge of character and he is protective and caring of Mob. He trusts and believes in the boy even when the boy does not believe in himself.

But it’s the flashback that got to me. The fact that Reigen had grown bored with his psychic gig and was considering moving on. With his social skills, he could easily have found some other way to make a decent living. But a young boy clearly in need of someone walks into his office and he just couldn’t turn him away. Sure, if he could make a buck in the process, all the better, but that wasn’t the main motivation. And he’s still like that. When someone is truly in need of help, he doesn’t turn them away, ever.

Combine this with a Mob that has become self-assured enough to think for himself and even say no! A young man that has gained the maturity to accept his mentor’s limits and failings and still appreciate him. And you have a tremendous character arc in two short episodes. Not only did they develop both characters without resorting to exposition dumps but they also did so without sanitizing or retconing either. I said this a lot in the first season review, but Mob Psycho is a smart show. And it continues to be so.

Mob’s been through a lot this season

This season also brought some conflict that was way more nuanced. In the last episodes, we even see Mob gleefully revel in his powers and the destruction they wrought. He immediately stops himself and is filled with guilt but there’s something else going on. There’s a great attention given to Mob’s expressions. By default, he’s a bit of a blank canvass, largely expressionless. This season, as he’s opening up more his feelings are starting to show on his face. Small shy smiles, tiny barely there scowls… But when he goes to 100% then it’s the complete opposite. He is deliberately drawn to be terrifying, almost demonic. Dishevelled unnatural hair, impossibly intense eyes, an uncontrollable aura escaping from him. But in that one moment, that minute that he let himself enjoy his power, he looked….great. I mean he looked like a healthy happy young man. The spiked hair flowing lazily about him like a pretty anime boy, no visible aura at all, a relaxed smile reaching all the way to joyful eyes.

In another anime, I would have called this an odd design choice but not in Mob Psycho. For two seasons this show has been very precise with its imagery and particularly with Mob’ expressions. This was thought out and selected for a reason. The visual language of the anime is telling a completely different story from the script. It’s subtly showing us a boy that has been at war with his own nature for his whole life and the one moment of release came as a huge relief. A boy that could still go down a dark path. This is a moral ambiguity the first season stayed very far away from and a noted shift in narrative vision. One I am excited for.

I feel you Ritsu, it was quite a moment

I want to see more of Mob Psycho 100 and I hope I can do so soon!

Favourite character: still Reigen

What this anime taught me: Sequels are fantastic

Come, we’ll get drunk, quote movies and talk about how awesome we are

Suggested drink: Brown Sugar Manhattan

Every time Mob’s in street clothes – take a sip

Every time the show turns into a video game – take a sip

Every time we see a tomato – get a snack

Every time we see the super awesome Body Improvement club – Cheers!

Every time anyone is pantless – gasp

Every time Reigen seem kind of cool – put the drink down

Every time Mob gets a call – take a sip

Every time we see Mezato-san – take a sip

Every time other psychics are watching tv – take a sip

Every time Ritsu doesn’t get along with Reigen – take a sip

Every time you’re surprised by how touching this show is – check if season 3 has been announced

I love Bones’ visuals. They really speak to me. So once again I uploaded a whole bunch of screencaps to Pinterest and Imgur.

      Mob Psycho 100 s2 – Growing Up Genre : Action, comedy, supernatural, urban fantasy, science fiction. Episodes: 13 Studio: Bones You know what's tricky?

[elasianstar]

the world on a turtle’s back Chapter 2

Sunday afternoon and time to head down to the lair for game night with the turtles. After the day I'd spent with Raphael I couldn't keep myself from thinking about the big guy. Yeah he was hot headed from time to time but he was really sweet. He doesn't talk much, mostly speaking through glances and body language, but I don't mind. The silences we had shared were mostly comfortable. Maybe Mikey was right, maybe Raph is just a big ol teddy bear, though an incredibly violent one.

Realizing the time, I pulled my glittery owl shirt out of my dresser and pulled it on over my fighting leathers. I obscured my wings and ran out the door. My bike Niltsi was in the building's basement garage waiting for me.

the golden feather painted on its black tank glimmered in the neon lights as we sped through the streets of New York toward the garage where the turtles kept the shell raiser. Donnie was under the garbage truck when I pulled in and heard the motor.

“Hey Casey, Raphael is down in the lair.”

“Hey Donnie, it's not Casey.”

“Elasia!”

In his surprise he accidently smacked his forehead on the exhaust, luckily it wasn't hot. When he saw me getting off my bike he whistled low and pinched the tip of his tongue between his lips in thought.

“This is Niltsi.”

“Didn't think you were into motorcycles. You have to show that thing to Raph, he's an old motorcycle junkie. You might get him to show you Raijin. Just don't mention it to Leo.”

“Will do, thanks Donnie!”

Once I was down in the lair I was quickly attacked by a flying ninja hug from Mikey, luckily I was used to it by now and the 250 pound turtle didn't knock me off my feet like he had the first few times.

“Hey Mikey.”

“Heya, Angelface! You ready for game Night? We got sorry, monopoly, clue, cards against humanity, uno….”

“Wait like board games?”

“Yeah it's family game night!”

“I thought you meant video games.”

“Nah, the last Sunday of every month Splinter sets up the board games for a family night, no training allowed, no fighting, just a good night of games and snacks!”

Dragging me off to the dining table he showed me the mismatch of salvaged games laid out. The boxes were banged up and the pieces looked to have belonged to several copies and editions of certain games but they were all complete and playable. Near the end of the table sat 5 small handmade figures not unlike those used to play dungeons and dragons. the first one was sculpted from clay and painted with ink to look like a tiny Leonardo, the next was carved wood dressed in actual cloth and made to look like Raphael, the third was a metal Donatello complete with a small solar light where his projection system usually sits, the fourth was a 3D printed Mikey painted to look like an old cartoon character, and the sixth was a small glass splinter. Each statue displayed a different medium and art style but each was masterfully made.

My thoughts were interrupted by loud barking as I was swept off my feet from behind.

“Addie’s back, how are you feeling girl!”

A large roan American Staffordshire terrier was jumping and pawing at mikey's plastron before noticing me and slobbering all over my face.

“bleck, ok ok down girl.”

A deep rough voice stopped the dog.

“ANDROMEDA.”

The happy pit ran over to her master, sitting somewhat calmly at his side as he grabbed her pink spiked collar. A blown glass galaxy hung in place of a tag.

“She isn't supposed to jump but she's kind of excited.”

Wiping the drool off my face I knelt in front of the dog at Raphael’s side and gently scratched her.

“It's alright, I get a fair share of dog drool at home, I'm used to it. She’s an absolutely gorgeous American Staffie. I've never seen one with a roan coloring before, it's a beautiful genetic anomaly, and the brown and green heterochromia in her eyes. She's a beautiful little lady, yes she is!”

“Raph rescued her as a puppy when we busted a dog fighting group in queens. She's actually been at the vet expecting a litter of her own.”

The dog showed no signs of having recently given birth and the somewhat heartbroken look on Raph’s face spoke volumes.

“What happened.”

He knelt down next to the dog who pressed her head up against him with a whimper.

“April took her in for her checkup and the vet said that she wasn't producing the hormones needed to birth and nurse the pups, more likely than not she would have reabsorbed the whole litter. They did a cesarean and managed to save two but 8 didn't make it. The two babies are going to stay with April and Casey so they can get store bought formula.”

I didn't know what to say so I just placed a reassuring hand on Raph’s where he had stilled petting Andromeda. His eyes darted over to meet my own for a second before he patted Addy and sent her off to say hi to her other uncles.

“Did they at least let you see the babies?”

“yeah, they were just as small and soft as Addy was when I found ‘er. Named the baby girl Cassiopeia, and the boy Orion. Vet says they'll be fine. Addy had to stay topside for a while to heal up but I'm glad I've got her back.”

“She’s a sweetheart that's for sure. I don't mean to sound insensitive, but have you considered having her spayed. With the two genetic anomalies of her coat and eye colors this most likely was caused by another genetic mutation, especially if she was improperly cross bred to be a fighting dog.”

“Yeah the vet already thought that would be best. Didn't really tell me the reasonin’ behind it though. That makes sense though.”

...

“Is that your cafe racer in the shop?”

“Yeah got it in ‘78, harley Davidson XCLR 1000cc, named it Niltsi after the navajo wind god. Donnie mentioned you've got your own, Raijin?”

“Yeah it's an old Indian I found in the scrap yard when I was 15. Donnie and I fixed it up and Mikey touched up the paint for me. Leo doesn't know…”

“Yeah Don already told me, my lips are sealed. Can we go see it?”

Just then splinter and Leo came in from their sanctuary.

“Ah Elasia, Michelangelo told me he had invited you. I hope you enjoy our little get together.”

“Yes I'm excited to play some games, I already told Mikey that I'd kick his butt in clue.”

Splinter laughed touching my shoulder in a fatherly way.

“I'm afraid to say that won't be too hard. My youngest son is gifted in many ways, conventional problem solving is not one of them.”

“Daaaad!”

Leo was helping Mikey move the snacks out of the kitchen, with Addy on their heels, he bumped his little brother with his elbow reassuringly.

“Don't sweat it Mikey, you know you're the king of pictionary.”

“Did someone say clue? Just let me put up my spot welding mask in the lab and I'll be right there!”

Donnie ran off to his lab, tossing the mask through the door before rejoining the group. Unable to escape now Raph grabbed my hand, leaning down to whisper in my ear.

“I'll show you the bike later, just have to get through a few hours of games.”

Nodding just enough for him to notice I made my way over to what has been dubbed my seat at the end of the table, and joined in on the debate over what game would be first.

“We can't play sorry Elasia doesn't have a lead piece.”

“Well then Donnie we can use something as a stand in, like a dice or the monopoly car or something.”

“Actually Leo I have something that will work pretty well.”

Digging into my bag I pulled out a small obsidian raven statue with golden eyes, setting it amongst the 5 figures of the hamato family.

“That's cool, did you make it?”

“No my brother Gabriel made it, he's into stone cutting. You should see the maple leaf pendant he carved out of garnet for his mate, it's gorgeous.”

…

L-“Sorry Mikey!”

M-“uuuwaaaa, chrrrrr. Leo you suck!”

E-“Uuuwaaaa, chrrrr.”

Four sets of eyes snapped on me as I covered my mouth. What did i say!?

M-“you speak turtle!?”

L-“your voice sounded exactly like mikey’s how did you do that.”

E-“I didn't mean to I just mimic sounds sometimes! I didn't….”

S-“Corvids are commonly known for their exceptional mimicry skills, it makes sense that Ms.Elasia would demonstrate that trait.”

M-“What's a corvid and what does mimicry mean.”

R-“It means that she can copy sounds and voices moron.”

S-“Corvids are birds like crows and ravens Michelangelo. Elasia seems to be a hybrid of a Raven as you are a turtle, or I am a rat

M-“Cooooool, can you do it again?”

I anxiously peeked at each of the four turtles, they seemed like they genuinely wanted to hear me mimic something else.

E-“Can you do it again?”

Mikey’s eyes went wide at the sound of his own voice leaving my throat and the other three looked mildly impressed.

M-“Do Leo, Do Leo next!”

L-“Mikey, that isnt..”

E-“Mikey, that isnt…”

M-“Awesome!!! Do Donnie.”

E-“I need a sound to focus on, Donnie?”

D-“ummm, I guess saying anything would work right?”

I tried something, “Right anything would work.”

D-“Interesting, it seems to be more than simple repetition, once you get a voice down can you say just about anything?”

Closing my eyes tight in concentration I tried to say something unique in Donatello’s voice.

E-“I've never tried that before but due to the repetitive sounds and cadences of the English language I could probably figure it out once I had enough data.”

R-“Damn, that's impressive.”

I tried to copy Raph’s voice only for a breathy croak to leave my throat.

E-“I guess Raph’s voice is out of my register, I need to expand my low range.”

M-“Awwww now my prank plans are ruined.”

E-I wasn't going to help you start a fight between Leo and Raph anyway Mikey.”

He legitimately pouted.

M-“But Elasia, think of the pranking potential!!”

S-“I am thinking of who will possibly win this game, now my sons, Ms.Elasia, if we could continue.”

ALL-“Hai sensei”

It was Splinter who eventually won but what he didn't know was that i saw him move his pieces with his tail while the brothers had been distracted.

The night was going great, Mikey and I teamed up during pictionary and kicked butt. Donnie won the game of clue, predictably playing as Professor Plum. Leo pissed everyone off in the first few rounds of monopoly when he somehow managed to get both of the high roller properties. Raph killed trivia pursuit, constantly answering every question correct except in the the entertainment sections.

Now we were playing scattegories, Mikey, Leo, and Splinter v.s Raph, Donnie, And I. Mikey kept triggering me to make noises during my turns causing me to have trouble answering my cards, in retaliation Raph had started putting him into a headlock and covering his mouth on our turns.

“Ok Elasia This is the last Round and we need 10 points to win, Oh this card is actually fitting, and a little ironic. In 60 seconds name as many biblical angels as you can. GO!”

“Cassiel, Michael, Gabriel, Uriel, Lailah, Xapham, Zuriel, Jophiel, Afriel…”

Mikey wrestled free and started making the most obnoxious sounds he could.

“BEEP!... Honk!...RACAAAAW!!!...”

“Five seconds!!!”

“R...RA..RAH...RAPHAEL!!!!!”

“TIME!”

Raph snatched mikey, smacking him over the back of the head while yelling at the smaller turtle. Donnie was searching for each of my answers to calculate points.

R-“You dirty lil’ fuckin cheat!”

D-“That’s ten we win!”

R-“What?”

L-“No that can't be right she only said 9 angel names, recount Donnie?”

D-“No look Leo, right here, the comprehensive list of biblically named angels…”

L-“Well dang, I wouldn't have guessed…”

M-“No she only said 9 names, I stopped her.”

D-“The tenth name was Raphael. It says here that he is the patron angel of healers in Judaism, and one of the four archangels. John 5:1–4 references him, ‘an angel of the Lord descended at certain times into the pond; and the water was moved. And he that went down first into the pond after the motion of the water was made whole of whatsoever infirmity he lay under.’ In the bible of Islam he is known as the burning one.”

M-“Raph’s soul heart thingy was burning when you did your magic healing stuff!”

R-“No you guys got it all wrong I ain't no angel… I...”

E-“No, you aren't an angel, but no one can deny that you’ve been touched by one. You are the best of your brothers at stitching up wounds, relating to the healing abilities of your namesake. Your soul is one of few that are somewhat stably related to the element of fire. though you demonstrate the stereotypical emotional flare ups you work quite well with the more mundane aspects of your element for someone with almost no training in the discipline. Plus the angel Raphael is the spirit most closely related to the idea of guardian angels, all four of you fit quite well into that roll for a lot of people in this city.”

Raph looked visibly uncomfortable with all of the attention so i was quick to move the subject to someone who would quickly divert the attention.

“And you Mikey, Your name Michelangelo literally translates to ‘Of the angel Michael’. Michael is known as the leader of the army of God and the divine good. It is prophesied that it will be Michael who rises against Lucifer in the time of the end. He is known as the defender and is often associated with children or those of a youthful disposition.”

“Awesome!!! I’ve got an angel too! What about Leo and Donnie?”

I noticed Raph escaping to the snack table, glad I diverted that one.

“Well Leonardo means Lion bold. It doesn't have a biblical connection but there is a link to the constellation Leo, the lion killed by Hercules during his great trials. The bright star at the chest of the lion is called Regulus, it is also known as the King star. It’s believed that all of the greatest leaders are born under the lion.”

Leo puffed at that, shooting a glance toward Raph that practically boasted his supposed celestial disposition toward leadership.

“As for Donatello, It's derived from the Latin Donatus which means “Given” in the context of being a divine gift. It is also loosely translated as ‘to pardon’ or to forgive. It speaks of a kind and charitable nature.”

Donnie blushed, fiddling with his glasses in embarrassment.

L-“Elasia, you forgot your name. What does it mean?”

“Well in my people’s tongue it means the guardian of stars. In our mythology Elasia is the name of the daughter of the moon goddess Lunis and is responsible for guiding the souls of the dead into the night sky. The name is also synonymous with night or darkness, which is why it was adopted by the survivors of the great war as the name of the unified civilization of species.”

L-“So you're named for you people's grim reaper or angel of death figure. I guess that explains the skull charms you wear.”

I nodded, fiddling with the brass Raven skull at my throat.

M-“No our Elasia IS ELASIA. Why else do you think she has all of those wicked soul powers and stuff. She said herself that she lived multiple lives!”

R-“Mikey shut yah trap, can't you see you're makin her uncomfortable?”

M-“Sorry Angelface, I didn't mean…”

I gave Mikey a small hug when he knelt in front of me.

M-“It's alright Mikey, and don't worry we're still friends and super awesome gaming buddies.”

M-“Awesome, wait how did you know i…”

I just smirked tapping my temple.

M-“Jedi… I knew it”

It was then that my alarm went off.

“Well sorry guys, if i'm going to get any sleep before work in the morning i'm going to have to head back. It was really fun, we should definitely do this again.”

“Hey Elasia, one question.”

“Yeah don?”

“This job of yours, its a human surface job right?”

“Yeah i'm internshiping with the local forensics unit, why?”

“How do you manage to hide your, physical differences?”

I dug around in my bag, pulling out a blue glass bottle with a cork.

“This, its a potion used to concentrate the natural obscurants of my people. It doesn't make my wings go away but it does make them look like something else. The effects are only temporary though and the enchantment is very easy to break if necessary.”

I took a quick swig and pulled my wings against my back where they melted into a dark tribal tattoo. with a quick shake however they became wings again and a thin opalescent blue dust fell to the floor.

“It's not the easiest stuff to make and it's a bit painful. but it’s a viable option for those who have to interact with humans on a daily basis, especially if they have features that aren't easily hidden by other means.”

“Would it work for us?”

“I'm not sure, each person who uses it has to tailor the recipe to their species and individual biology in order to get the right results. I could look into it. I really should be going though.”

“I’ll walk you up.”

“Thanks Raph.”

…

When we got to the garage Raph led me to a dark and cluttered back corner, revealing a cleverly constructed trash cave just big enough for what was hidden inside. A modified Indian “Big Base” Scout with a deep burgundy and cherry red accented paint job. It was gorgeous.

“Damn, talk about a beauty, and he’s an old classic, 1948.”

Raph grabbed the handlebars like he was handling the love of his life as he rolled it out of its cubby and parked it at my feet.

“It's not entirely original, Donnie and I had to make some modifications and figure out how to build some parts from scratch so that it’d fit me.”

I had already gotten down on the floor of the shop and was curiously poking around the mechanics of the bike.

“Yeah it looks like you lengthened and reinforced the frame, and the suspension obviously, adding in the liquid cooling system was definitely a smart move, I can hardly see your additions on the cosmetic pieces, a human would never notice. This is really well done, How does he ride?”

“It’s a little heavy on the handling, nothing i can't handle though, gets a bit rough around 80 MPH.”

“But that’s expected of older models, even my XLCR gets a little shaky at higher speeds and its what 30 years newer?”

“I could… Drive ya home, if ya want. I mean so ya can hear what the engine sounds like.”

“That would actually be pretty nice. Doubt I'll hear it over the growl of MY bike though.”

At this i cocked my hip and snapped a sharp turn, swaying as i moved to mount Niltsi. Switching it on i revved the engine hard, the roar causing a smirk to pull at my lips, especially in response to the gigantic smile on Raph’s face. Starting up his engine he quietly rolled it to meet me at the mouth of the garage. Checking that the roads were clear our eyes met, a silent nod signaling the peal of thunder caused by both bikes speeding off down the road at the same time.

At first we kept pretty equal but as i started to pull ahead a bit Raph started to speed up, pulling ahead of me and starting a race. Narrowing my eyes i shifted my position so that i was lying as flat as possible against the tank of my Harley and raised my wings into an angle, the increased aerodynamics of the position causing me to rocket past Raph as my engine roared in victory. Raph decided if he couldn't beat me in speed then he’d beat me in style, as our bikes settled in next to each other he slowly began to raise up onto the seat of his Indian until he was riding the machine like a skateboard. One of his large two toed feet controlling the handlebars while the other maintained his balance and position. I couldn't help but throw my head back with laughter, leaning back in my seat and throwing my hands up as i steered with the toes of my riding boots. Soon though we reached my apartment and pulled the bikes into the alleyway parking behind the building.

“That was so much fun! I can't believe you surfed on that thing!”

“That thing you did with your wings was pretty cool, what do you call that?”

“Its called stooping, its a position used to increase diving speeds in falcons.”

In our excitement we both jumped around the alley, burning off adrenaline until we somehow ended up nearly chest to chest, the smiles on our faces bright and open.

“Your hair is all fluffy.”

Without thinking Raph smoothed his large hand over my short hair in an attempt to right it only for it to pop right back up. I couldn't help but notice how nice the sensation felt and to laugh at his frustrated expression.

“It does that when i'm excited, it's called plumeing….its a bird thing.”

“Like a parrot. Its cute.”

Realizing what he said his face immediately fell back into its intimidation mask and he moved to get back on his bike.

“Wait Raph….”

He started the engine and drove away as quickly as he could.

“Its ok…..”

When he disappeared from sight i spread my wings and with a few flaps landed on my apartment balcony. From here i could just make out his headlight shining between the buildings. I gently ran my fingers through my hair, copying the motions he had made.

“Goodnight Raphael.”

…

Raphael's POV

How fucking stupid am I! We were having so much fun, the night was going great and I go and ruin it by being a sappy anxious jackass! She probably thinks I'm a dopey dweeb!

Pulling quietly into the shop I hid Raijin back in the pile and stormed through the lair toward the dojo. Mikey tried to ask me how it went but I just growled low in my throat and pushed him away as I stormed past.

I needed to beat my anger into something.

After about an hour of destroying another training dummy I moved to the free weights. I needed to cool off.

What if she really meant what she said tonight? I mean she said nice things about everyone but I think that might have been a distraction tactic. Couldn't have my brothers calling me angel, or for Mikey to staple wings to my shell in my sleep. She looked so happy tonight, laughing and speeding on that beaut of a Harley. And her hair did look really nice all sticking up and wild, it was soft.

Throwing the bar back on the stand I rubbed the heels of my hands down my face. It couldn't happen I needed to stop fooling myself. Staring down at my hands I imagined her own looking so small and delicate against my rough green skin. No it would never work.

…

Elasia’s POV

The next day at work all I could think of was his smile and the feel of his hand in my hair.

No he would never like me like that, we're just friends, I need to stop reading so much into it.

I wore my red flannel tank top anyway.

[mrhotmaster]

Samsung Galaxy A31 Review Complete the gap that exists. Understanding Samsung's Galaxy An and M arrangement models are getting more earnestly continuously, as new models are gotten with minor revives, however, don't generally arrange in a legitimate request. For instance, the ongoing Galaxy M21 was essentially a Galaxy M30s with an alternate selfie camera, however passing by the model names, it's difficult to make that association. While a few models in the A and M arrangement have slight covers in estimating, there's as yet a generally clear qualification between the arrangement themselves. As a rule, most models in the An arrangement will in general have better completes and fancier highlights, for example, in-show unique finger impression sensors, while the M arrangement organizes low costs. Today, we are going to seek a new Galaxy A31 from Samsung, which will succeed in the Galaxy A30 on board. Contrasted with the last mentioned, the new model offers a fourth back camera, a greater battery, a higher-goals show, full help for Samsung Pay, and a more significant expense tag. Accessible in only a solitary arrangement with 6GB of RAM and 128GB of capacity for Rs. 21,999, does the Galaxy A31 merit a spot in our pined for a rundown of top telephones under Rs. 25,000?. How about we see. Samsung Galaxy A31 Design: Been there, seen that Given the fact that the Galaxy A31 's structure is not new to a Samsung financial program, I like how slim and compact it is. The all-polycarbonate body feels very tough yet it gets fingerprints without any problem. The telephone has a perceptibly thick jawline underneath the screen and an Infinity-U pattern at the top for the selfie camera. There's a colossal SIM plate on the left, for two SIM cards and a microSD card. The earphone jack, USB Type-C port, and a speaker are at the base. The rear shows the Prism Crush feature of Samsung, whose blue edition we have. This telephone is additionally accessible in back and white trims. The quad-camera bunch at the back is a rectangular module and doesn't swell outward a lot. In general, the Galaxy A31 was agreeable to use every day during this survey. It's somewhat wide, and arriving at the highest point of the presentation isn't the most straightforward, however, One UI has signals to help with this. In the wake of seeing numerous telephones in the arrangement with a similar example on the back, the structure has begun to feel a touch of exhausting now. The container substance is quite standard as well: there's a silicone case, a charger, a USB link, and a headset. Samsung Galaxy A31 Display: AMOLED never baffles The Galaxy A31 has a sharp full HD plus Super AMOLED display of 6.4-inch of resolution of 1080 by 2400 pixels. I saw it as more than sufficient as far as splendor, even in the daytime. Hues were a piece unreasonably rich for my preference for the default 'Striking' mode, however, this can be mitigated in the settings. The showcase is level, with no bends on the sides, however, there are no sharp edges either so performing signals isn't an issue. There's an in-show unique mark sensor, which isn't extremely speedy yet functions admirably as long as you give it a firm press. The time taken to wake the screen, alongside the unique mark activities, cause this entire procedure to feel a piece laggy. I typically depended on face acknowledgment, which I saw as snappier. The consistently in plain view has fundamental customizations, for example, the capacity to show what melody is playing, and a decision of various clock styles. Samsung Galaxy A31 Performance: Quite baffling In spite of its conventional form quality and great showcase, its presentation is a major issue. Samsung uses the MediaTek Helio P65 octa-center soc, so I have no issue with the cost of a telephone which is Rs .10,000, even though I can only expect Rs.20000. Contrasted with even the Galaxy M21, which utilizes the Exynos 9611 and costs much less, the Galaxy A31 is slower in the greater part of the famous benchmarks. Samsung's One UI v2.1, in light of Android 10, additionally feels somewhat languid generally speaking. There's a persevering trace of falter in the movements, and slack when I was exchanging between applications. It didn't hamper utilization to an extreme however holding up that additional second or two for things to happen isn't an encounter I expect at this value point. One UI itself is reasonably include rich with heaps of alternate routes, topics, and signals to mess with. There's likewise Dolby Atmos, yet just for wired and remote earphones. The Galaxy A31 bolsters Google's Widevine L1 confirmation, which implies video spilling applications can play content at the presentation's local goals. The single speaker gets genuinely noisy however the sound quality is carefully normal. Straightforward games run well, yet heavier titles, for example, Asphalt 9: Legends or even PUBG Mobile ran at diminished design settings. Ongoing interaction was middle of the road yet they didn't look on a par with they ought to have. I additionally saw a touch of warming when messing around for longer spans.  Samsung Galaxy A31 Cameras: The Mistake Proceeds  Alright, so far the Galaxy A31 isn't looking excessively engaging, yet maybe it can vindicate itself with its camera execution. The four cameras on the back incorporate an essential 48-megapixel sensor, an 8-megapixel sensor with a wide-point focal point, a 5-megapixel profundity camera, and a 5-megapixel full-scale camera. The openings of the considerable number of cameras aren't especially amazing, with even the one on the principle camera being simply f/2.0. The front camera utilizes a 20-megapixel sensor.  The camera application ought to be natural to most Samsung clients, however, I found a couple of missing highlights which should have been there. Recalling the expense and location of the handset, it's a little strange not to have 4K video capture as an option and even a low-light night-mode quiet. Master mode is disabled, with no alternative to change the screen speed. Self-adjust speed is fair, however, this telephone will in general chase for center in low light. You do get Samsung's 'Scene optimizer' AI motor, and the capacity to spare stills and video in the HEIF and HEVC groups. Under great light, the primary sensor catches better than average looking photographs. Pictures are caught as 12-megapixel shots as a matter of course yet you can take shots at the full 48-megapixel goals if necessary. In low light, the clamor is smothered well however subtleties are inadequate with regards to, which is recognizable when you zoom in to photographs a piece. Close-ups shot under great light passage better, with great subtleties and hues, however, because of screen slack, even slight developments can cause obscuring. The wide-point camera catches relatively more vulnerable subtleties, and HDR isn't as powerful as on the primary camera. In low light, subtleties are a lot of more awful and there's no Night mode to help rescue shots. Live Focus works adequately well, and the measure of foundation obscure can be balanced for picture shots. The large scale camera makes a reasonable showing with extraordinary close-ups yet I didn't see picture quality as far superior to what I've seen from telephones with 2-megapixel sensors. Recordings are restricted to 1080p goals, however, quality is respectable given plentiful light when shooting with the essential camera. The Galaxy A31 does not even offer electronic adjustment, and therefore the developments look jerky with the camera. You can't change to the wide-point camera while recording however you can change to it before you start. True to form, video quality is just about satisfactory under great light yet poor in low light. There's no adjustment here either. The selfie camera catches 12-megapixel stills naturally (8-megapixels in the event that you pick a more tight yield). Be that as it may, you can take shots at the local goals as well. Selfies are commonly usable when shooting outside, in sunlight. Skin tones will in general look excessively warm and HDR can be an all in or all out, yet it's not all that awful. The camera battles to recreate great subtleties in low light, frequently leaving you with delicate surfaces and feeble subtleties. In general, the cameras on the Galaxy A31 are very disappointing and need numerous highlights that you'd find in numerous telephones that cost much less. Samsung Galaxy A31 Battery: Pretty great On the off chance that there is one saving grace about the Galaxy A31, at that point it would be battery life. The 5,000mAh battery went on for 18 hours and 11 minutes in our HD video circle test, which is awesome. Indeed, even with standard utilization, I was effectively ready to work out positively past a day on a solitary charge. There is 15W quick charging, so you can energize the battery to 50 percent in 60 minutes, yet filling it totally takes well more than two hours. Decision: Who is the Samsung Galaxy A31 for? I'm battling to locate a valid justification for the Galaxy A31 to exist, and I sincerely can't consider one. It appears just as Samsung has propelled it basically to fill the value hole between the Galaxy A50s【₹ 19,475 and the Galaxy A51 (Review) — both of which would be a greatly improved pick than the Galaxy A31. Battery life is the principle champion element here, alongside the nice form quality and show. Be that as it may, the mediocre SoC execution and disappointing cameras are flaws that are too glaring to even consider ignoring when you're paying more than Rs. 20,000. Regardless of whether the value were to drop, there are a lot of all the more remarkable and highlight rich choices in the market, for instance, telephones of Realme and Xiaomi, or Samsung's own Galaxy A50s and Galaxy M31. REVIEWS ⓻ DES IGN ⓼ DIS PLAY ⓽ SOFT WARE ⓺ SHOW ⓽ BATT ERY ⓺ CAM ERA ⓹ FOR MON EY ✔GOOD ✘BAD ☞ Great Battery Life ☞ Solid Vivid Display ☞ Great One UI ☞ System Performance Is Not Good ☞ Mediocre Cameras ☞ Slow Fingerprint Sensor ☞ Old And Boring Design KEY SPECIFICATIONS DISPLAY 6.40-Inches FRONT CAMERA 20MP PROCESSOR MediaTek Helio P65 RAM 6GB STORAGE 128GB OS Android 10 BATTERY 5000mAh REAR CAMERA 48MP+8MP +5MP+5MP RESOLUTION 1080x2400p ALSO SEE flipkart.com Samsung Galaxy A31 6GB RAM, 128GB - Prism Crush Blue  – Click Here To Go The Page flipkart.com Samsung Galaxy A31, 6GB RAM, 128GB Prism Crush Black  – Click Here To Go To The Page flipkart.com Samsung Galaxy A31, 6GB RAM, 128GB Prism Crush White  - Click Here To Go To The Page  For Regular & Fastest Tech News and Reviews, Follow TECHNOXMART on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, Google News and Subscribe Here Now. 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