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masonscig · 3 years

Text

antidote

pairing | mason x sofía

word count | 2.4k

warnings | mention of rook’s death and breaking her wrist when she was a kid, so you know. a little angst. some suggestive language towards the end!

author’s note | so this is my late entry for day one of warm in wayhaven, cooking – as usual when i’m writing these two i can’t shut up for the life of me

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He wakes up from his first nap in a week to the smell of chicken.

There’s only one person in the entire warehouse that could be cooking at 2 in the morning without burning the place down.

He trods barefoot down the dark hallway, his sweatpants hung low off his hips.

Putting on pants was a formality, really. But he had roommates that’d have aneurysms over anything less, so he’s usually at least half clothed when he ventures outside of his room.

The smell gets a lot stronger, mixes with other scents the closer he gets.

Her heartbeat’s stronger in his ears, though, so he keeps going, despite the way his nose is crinkled and his fists are clenched.

When he makes his way to the kitchen, he stops at the doorway, perching his hip against the frame.

She’s pulled a chair up to the stove, chin balanced on her knees that are up against her chest.

Her eyes are glued to the big silver pot that sits there, steam leaking out from the ventilation tiny holes in the lid.

Her hair’s tossed up in a messy bun, and from the glimmer of light from the overhead light above the stove, he can see that a few strands are plastered to the back of her neck and forehead.

She reaches out to twist the knob all the way to the left, then struggles to pick the pot up.

Despite him not announcing himself, he’s next to her in a flash, moving the pot to the other burner in a flash.

“Oh, hey,” she murmurs distractedly. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“Nah.”

She nods, barely even giving him a second glance, grabbing the lid and placing it on the counter.

The steam threatens to curl higher and higher, but with a quick flip of a switch, the stove’s fan is pulling it into its vents.

There’s something definitely wrong with her – she’ll bake cupcakes for an elementary school bake sale at 2 a.m., but never soup. Who the fuck makes soup in the dead of night?

“I’m not an expert on human food by any means,” he starts, grimacing at the way the scent wafts towards him when she swirls the wooden spoon through the broth. “But why the hell are you making soup when it’s hot as fuck outside?”

She shrugs, dipping the spoon flat against the surface of the hot broth, filling it to the brim. “I was hungry.”

She brings it to her mouth, lips pursed, and blows on it, thin tendrils of steam floating towards him.

He’s still trying to figure out what the fuck is wrong with her when she sips it, a small tired smile blooming across her features.

The soft breathy hum that buzzes from her throat is low enough for both of them to hear, nearly matching the pitch of the whirring fan.

He doesn’t wanna press his luck with her, considering they're being civil.

It’d been a week since they were ambushed and she came face to face with her attempted kidnapper.

Things between Mason and Sofía were already… complicated, to say the least.

Different attitudes, different wants, different needs. He’d managed to fail in all three of those categories, disappointing her over and over without really trying to.

There was a certain level of avoidance from the both of them for the days following the ambushing. It’s not that he wanted to get her alone nor he did he care if she was avoiding him, but this was the first time he’d been alone with her all week, so he wasn’t going to actively try to fuck this up.

“That’s it?” he asked, keeping it simple.

She ignores him, instead flitting around the kitchen to grab a bowl and a spoon.

Well, she’d be amicable if she kept quiet – she wasn’t wrong with that one.

He watches as she fishes out sliced vegetables, an ear of corn, and chicken, then fills the bowl to the brim with broth.

Setting it on the table, she grabs a stained tortilla warmer from the microwave and scoots up to her bowl, digging in with one hand, a tortilla rolled in the other.

She’s still sweating under the heat, her chest glistening, the seams of her tattered tank damp underneath her armpits.

He sinks into the chair across from her, arms crossed.

“You gonna keep ignoring me?”

“Maybe,” she says from behind her hand (and around a mouthful of veggies).

“Tell me to leave, then, and I’ll go. Just say the word, sweetheart.”

He knows she won’t.

She lifts her eyes from the bowl to meet his own lazy gaze. Without saying another word, she dunks her rolled tortilla in the broth and takes a bite.

“That’s what I thought. You gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

“You’re not that invested in my life outside of work, are you?” She challenges, mashing the back of her spoon against a vegetable until it’s smooth, scooping it up with a little broth and popping it into her mouth.

He shrugs. “I just know you’re lying, that’s all.”

“You lie all the time,” she counters immediately, pointing the tip of the spoon at him.

“When?” He knows she’s right, but she hasn’t brought it up since she stormed away from him outside of the warehouse, drenched and shivering.

“You lied at the bakery.”

Bingo.

He leans forward till his elbows are on the table, resting his chin on the back of his interlaced fingers.

“So that’s what you’re upset about.”

He’s a foot away from her, the temptation of closing the gap between them nearly tugging his shoulders forward.

Her face contorts into a grimace, bordering on disgust. “That’s not at the forefront of my mind, no.”

She swirls her spoon around the bowl, eyes following the movements of her wrist.

“I hate the summer. I always have.”

He stifles a wince as he leans back until his bare back presses against the cool plastic.

“Bad things always happen to me in the summer, you know? Dad died during the summer. Mom forgot to pick me up at science camp for a full twenty-four hours when I was 9, and I had to spend a whole day alone with no friends after everyone had gone home. That’s also the same summer she took her first month-long assignment.

“The next summer, they extended it from a month to a full summer. I broke my wrist on my neighbor’s trampoline, and she didn’t even visit me until my cast was getting sawed off.

“Bobby dumped me for the first time during the summer before he studied abroad so he could sleep with whoever he wanted.”

She shakes her head, dropping the spoon and tortilla.

“Sorry, I, uh, I’m just happier in the fall and winter,” she smiles apologetically.

“And that’s why you’re makin’ soup at 2 a.m.?” He asks, eyeing her warily.

“Yeah, kinda. It sounds stupid when you put it like that, really,” she giggles, scooting the bowl forward so she can rest her elbows there too, her chin in her hands.

A sigh escapes her, low and grim. “This dish is really special to me.”

He waits for her to continue, but she just sinks her teeth into her bottom lip instead, chewing nervously at the skin there.

He kicks his toe against her slipper clad foot, a gentle nudge to get her to speak.

He’s gotten pretty good at reassuring her without words, he thinks. Better than when they first met, that’s for damn sure.

“My favorite picture of my dad and I is one where I’m sitting at my high chair and I barely have two teeth in my mouth and my dad is feeding me mashed zucchini and yucca root. He’s laughing and smiling like he wouldn’t rather be doing anything else in the entire world than eating soup with his daughter.”

Mason stiffens at the mention of her father, and even worse so, feels remorse start to trickle into his bones.

It’s stupid to think he could’ve done anything. He pushes those thoughts to the side, recognizing the remaining scrappy morsels of humanity in him clawing its way to the surface. Impulse has always been the most human part of him – maybe she’s changing that.

He doesn’t really know who he was before this, but what he does know is any inkling of humanity he has surfaces when he’s with her.

Yeah, he can’t feel what it’s like to lose a parent, but watching Sofía tear up over bittersweet memories was enough on its own.

“Your dad cooked?”

“Yeah, from what I can remember, yeah. All of our old cookbooks are in his and my abuela’s handwriting.”

She looks like she wanted to say something more, so he leans back, arms across his chest, waiting.

“When I was in high school, I tried making it on my own and it was so shitty. I wanted to surprise Rebecca, because I knew she was getting back from a stressful work trip, and I couldn’t do it like he did. She didn’t even notice that I’d tried,” she sighs, picking up her spoon again to sip the broth.

She hums again, chews, swallows.

“I don’t know why I was so naive back then, you know? I thought I could chop a couple veggies and toss them into seasoned water and it’d turn out just like Dad made it.

“In reality, I didn’t even know what it tasted like. My mom described the taste to me once before, but she never cooked, so I just went off of what she told me. I romanticized the whole thing right down to making up the flavor in my own head.”

“That’s probably why I made the soup tonight. I miss when I was happy, but even then, what the fuck did that even look like to me? I’m just telling myself I was happy because I saw photos of me being happy, but I can’t recall that feeling by memory at all.”

She darts a hand under her eyes to rub it away before he notices, but he can see her eyes glistening.

“How am I homesick for a life that was never really great to begin with, you know?”

He leans forward, brows furrowed. “It doesn’t matter if you can’t remember. Fuck those old memories. Make new ones.”

He’s speaking from the heart now, compelled to say something before his mind can stop him.

Chuckling with a quick sniffle, she gets up to grab a drink from the fridge. “I know you mean well, but it’s hard when you’ve got an active bounty on your head.”

“Things will get better.” He’s not a beacon of positivity in the slightest, but she’s too good to be feeling this bad, so he has to say something.

“Things can get better.”

“What?”

“It’s not guaranteed. Not for me, at least. Probability’s never worked out in my favor,” she smiles weakly, unscrewing the cap to the water and sipping it politely.

“You’ve got a team making sure things will get better, sweetheart. No matter what.”

“You’re all here by force, though. After you leave, I’m still gonna be stuck here, and –”

She waves her free hand, the other one gripping the damp water bottle.

“I’m sorry. I’m just tired. I’ll be less of a mess in the morning.”

“Not all of us,” he says, delayed, but hoping she gets it.

“Not all of us what?”

“Are here by force.”

She grips the bottle harder, the plastic crackling. She knows what he means now.

“That’s… uh, good to know,” she murmurs, a smile tugging at her features. “Thanks.”

“Didn’t do anything to warrant a thanks.”

She rolls her eyes, sitting back down at the table. “You’re gonna have to get used to my manners, Mason.”

“Never,” he smirks, leaning over the table, over the soup, running his thumb over her bottom lip before standing.

“You don’t like it because you don’t have any.”

He snorts, a hearty laugh ripping out of his vocal cords and echoing off the tile flooring. “Damn right.”

She smiles, too, this time though with her whole body. It’s dim in the kitchen, but she’s shining nonetheless.

The smell’s grown on him a little bit. The shit honestly reeks, but he doesn’t mind it.

He follows her when she makes her way to the cabinets underneath the countertops, retrieving a big glass bowl.

When she bends down, he tentatively steps behind her, leaving a hair’s width space between them. He’s hesitating to touch her, even as she glances back at him reassuringly and closes the gap between his stomach and her back.

The hum that leaves her this time as he hooks a lazy arm around her waist sounds just like the one she let out when she tasted the soup.

She gently guides his hands to grip the edges of the bowl while she pulls the pot closer.

“So what’s this shit called?” He asks, crinkling his nose as she ladles it in, grimacing when some splashes his hand.

He knows he’s there for something, but he can’t quite remember what for when she licks the stray drops from his thumb.

“Caldo de pollo,” she smiles, snapping the plastic top until it’s airtight, guiding him to the fridge.

He knows “pollo” is Spanish from the times Felix watched kids shows to pick up on English. (He could never quite shake the looping sound byte of Felix’s southern drawl saying “poy-yo” when he discovered Dora the Explorer.)

“You gotta make it for Nate sometime,” he suggests, wrapping his other arm around her waist when she closes the fridge door.

She turns in his grasp, splaying her hands on his bare chest, dragging her thumbs over the tuft of hair in the middle of it.

“Thank you, really,” she whispers, eyes trained on her moving hands. “I mean it.”

He’s shit at accepting thanks with words, so instead he kisses her. He fights the urge to deepen it, to open his mouth to taste her.

She’s not ready to let him in like that just yet. He thinks it’s enough that she’s letting him touch her at least.

The lingering taste of chicken is disgusting, but he’s enduring it, because Sofía’s humming like he’s the best thing she’s tasted in years.

#the wayhaven chronicles #twc #twc mason #twc detective #wayhavensummer #mason x sofía #detective sofía olmos #my fic

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sungoingdown · 3 years

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THE FOOL : A “ MODERN DAY ” SETTING .

Any modern pagan or wiccan knows what it feels when a spirit or energy enters the room. Or if you frequently hunt ghosts, you know when their emotions are affecting you. Literature can muck things up quite a bit. Though I’m not changing how the fool would interact with your character, I do want to delve deep into what it means to set up an altar for the fool, and what would happen to you if you were to work with him, his energy, and his power.

Some great examples of what I mean: what would be his favorite offerings; why would he want you to do this or that; what sort of prayers or rituals could you do for him; what ways could you honor him and his work for you?

Let’s take a look.

Let’s get one thing off the bat: The Fool wouldn’t care what you do with his altar. He doesn’t mind if you make it ginormous, or just a simple candle. He wants you to do what you’re comfortable with. The only thing he’ll ever command out of you is that you deliberately choose something you enjoy. If your favorite smell is apple pie, he will command you to get a candle of apple pie. If your favorite smell is moonlight summer, he will command you get moonlight summer. He doesn’t care as long as he knows that it’s your favorite.

What this means is that his altar is going to be a mish-mash of unorganized, probably ugly things that don’t exactly match. An adorable altar cloth that has pretty puppy paws because you love dogs, but gothic-esque boxes because those made your heart flutter, but then this rainbow-colored candle that you could NOT pass up. He wants it that way. He does not want you to focus on organization; he wants you to focus on what you want, as he will enjoy what you will. Sure he may ask for certain offerings at certain times, or his candle to be lit at some times more than others, such as all supernatural would, but he wants to enjoy what you enjoy.

If you hesitate to buy the basics that you don’t enjoy and go for the aesthetic look, he will not like them. That candle will never stay lit, those offering boxes will never work right, and that incense ash will always make a fucking mess; never will it land in the tray. Be sure you get what you like -- toss aesthetic to the wind when you work with this entity.

But once you’ve got the basics down, what else would he enjoy? What offerings?

For food, he would want junk food and sweets. Especially chocolate. Most people enjoy chocolate as a guilty pleasure and indulge in it when they need relief. Often will he ask for pieces of chocolate, whether that be bars or whole-ass cakes. It’s up to you, but the bigger you give him the better he’ll work with you. Realistically though, he will take anything. It doesn’t matter what it is.

Other than the typical guilty pleasure of junk food, he would also like your favorite food. A few bites, not much -- just so he can get a taste and enjoy what you’re enjoying. If it isn’t your favorite food, he’ll mold it to let you know that this is not what he asked for. Just think that in general, he’d want what your first choice would be. Anything else is lackluster, second best, and generally never worth it.

CITRINE! CITRINE! CITRINE! That is his favorite crystal and he will ask for it ALL THE TIME! Citrine has the power to eradicate depression and bring you joy and happiness. If not citrine, definitely tiger’s eye so he can sneak into your third eye. He’d wanna throw as many signs at you as he can; he would be a very talkative entity to work with. Signs everywhere that basically say: “hey i’m here wanna smell these random flowers i put on your walk to work today?” The more you give him, the more he’ll get to you. A huge chunk of it would make him extra happy! Opalite can work too, but not as powerfully.

What about smells? What sort of perfumes would the fool like? Or incenses? Easy! Anything fruity or nature based. Any sort of wood, especially sandalwood would catch his eye the most. Catch him swirling up that ash or making little designs with the burnt wood upon burning sandalwood incense. But he’ll accept any and all earthy smells. Strawberry incense would be pretty nice too, but he would rather take all those fruity smells for the perfume, and give them to you / let you use them when you need an extra pick me up for the day.

Most deities and entities enjoy lavender. I don’t think the fool would? He isn’t the type of person that likes to “relax.” Not that he doesn’t think relaxing isn’t important itself, and sometimes relaxation is what people need to celebrate! But he, himself isn’t one to really relax or calm down. So anything like lavender, mugwort, frankincense, or the like, would make him upset. He will not enjoy it and he will let you know.

Nature offerings, like Lady Artemis. Pinecones, flowers( especially if you know they’re signs from him ), jars of dirt, any seed from any plant imaginable, roots, crushed leaves, anything that can present itself from mother earth. But what would entice and intrigue him the most is rocks and pebbles from mountains -- something about those seem to catch his interest the most. Seeing the world from a higher level, perhaps? Or perhaps knowing you succeeded in your climb and wanted a souvenir to your victory?

Speaking of signs, what would be signs that he’s in your life? First and foremost -- wanting to go mountain hiking when you’ve never wanted to do that before. Wanting to go sightseeing. Are you hearing laughter or voices in the wind? That’s probably him. Are you getting happy at your small successes? Are you meeting a lot of wise people lately? Perhaps you’re getting the fool and the tower mixed together in your tarot readings, that’s another sign too. Is nature or the environment suddenly a huge interest to you as well? Definitely him, too.

And how can you honor him when he’s finally in your life?

Enjoying yourself! Loving yourself and life by doing what you enjoy and loving it. Stopping to do what is important, like self-care, growth and improvement, and sniffing those flowers along the way, whatever that may mean to you. Giving back to mother earth for what you took from her, and trying out those challenges and accomplishing those goals. Telling people what it means to help yourself and enjoy life, as well. This is how. And he’ll give you more and more power the more you do each of these.

Though this “foolish” energy has some of his own preferences, just keep in mind that if you choose to work with him, he will always want what you want the most, no matter what it is. He will enjoy what you enjoy.

BONUS - Spells he would assist you with the most: anti-anxiety/depression spells, fidelity/forgiveness/friendship spells, cleansing, grounding spells.

BONUS 2 - Prayers can include: mentions of happiness, helping to “slow down,” trying to find friends and lovers, opening up, helping your garden/harvest, and generally wishing for assistance with your day-to-day life routine.

BONUS 3 - Punishments include: never finding peace or joy for an extended amount of time, your garden dying, friends suddenly growing cold, distant, and apathetic in you for seemingly no reason, making sure your routine is to chaotic too enjoy anything.

BONUS 3A - How to upset him: destroying mother earth without a proper cause, without giving her an offering, or asking her first. taking away someone’s happiness, whether that be a person, material thing, or general goals in life. hexing people, no matter the cause -- he absolutely hates the idea of dark magic and will never allow you to do so, no matter how much you ask.

#🏔️ 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 . ( metas )#( sorta deity verse related i suppose? )#( kinda yes but this is still modern day and very realistic depending on how pagans typically worship their entities and deities )#( this is just a whole what if scenario if the fool's energy was actually real )#( and how people could worship and work with him )#( also i've done hexes so already the fool would be pissed at me fidgndf )

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stonecoldjerseyfox · 4 years

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Jersey on my mind (part 31)

The smell of buttered, barbecue corn on the cobs mixed with the scent of burning firewood makes Mila’s mouth water like the cookie monster catching sight of chocolate chip cookies, as she and Juri make their way down the dark street.

“Can you smell that?” She asks Juri. “Smells nice, right?”

Juri nods eagerly and the blue eyes glistens hungrily.

She’s holding a bottle of vodka in her right hand and Juri’s hand in her left as they struts down the street towards the bonfire and the sound of chatting people. Juri’s dressed up in a knitted sweater, sent from mama in Russia for his second birthday. The shirt was way too big for a two year old, so Mila left it in a drawer until they had to leave, to escape when all hell broke loose. It’s maroon with white, traditional pattern over the chest.

“Are you excited?” Mila asks as they pass Jessie’s house, and a sad feeling overwhelms her. Poor Jessie. She shifts her focus from the now empty house to Juri, who nods at her. “Yeah. Me too. It might be fun. You remember the barbecues at Ellie’s and Joe’s?” Juri nods once again. Of course he remembers ‘grams’ and ‘gramps’. It felt weird to Mila that he knew her foster parents better than his real grandmother, whom he called ‘baba’. But baba was always baba. Juri gestures at her, expresses a feeling of longing for the three of them. “I miss them too, Malysh.” She smiles. “Think about the barbecue.”

That’s a thought that cheers both of them up. Mila loves barbecues. She has experienced several very different variants of the event during her short lifetime. Hot summer evenings at the Dacha at home in Russia, when the whole neighborhood gathered from the surrounding summer cottages in the largest garden and built a barbecue of old brick or sheet metal. Everyone contributed food and the vodka was lined up on a table. They danced, sang, there was always someone playing the accordion and some dexterous ribbons of wreaths. The smell of smoke settled deep in the clothes, but it did not matter, it was part of the experience itself. It was so easy and homely. In the wee hours, when half the vodka ration was consumed, there could be both hopak dancing and sniping. During the autumn harvest, people also grilled, especially during forest excursions and mushroom picking. Mama fried mushrooms over an open fire while papa boned fish. In the winter, they did the same thing, dressed up in several layers of clothes and fur hats. Their breaths stood like ice clouds from their mouths, but they didn’t freeze and the fire kept their cheeks glowing hot.

In the States, she got to experience a different kind of barbecue, not as folksy, but still nice in that American, exaggerated way. Joe Galka owned a Weber grill, a piece as big as a piano, Mila thought, to which he was very attached. He could grill most things. In the summers there was a barbecue almost every weekend and friends and family were invited. Mila’s, Billy’s and Adam’s friends were always invited. Even in the States, people brought food to the festivities; meringue pies, apple pies, ribs dripped with sauce, mashed potatoes, salads and god knows what. Significantly less strong booze than the Russian festivities, but all the more pale beer; disgusting Corona and Budweiser, that the middle-aged men, gathered around Joe’s grill, wearing the same type of cargo shorts and short-sleeved shirts, happily sipped. And sniping was out of the question in the suburbs. When Mila met Jim and they went on hikes just the two of them, Mila went in childhood. They grilled over an open fire in the woods, or at a beach, using firewood and matches, an old frying pan and some simple tools. They brought food, coffee, booze and, God forbid, a big bag of marshmallows. Jim loved those grilled, melting sugar bombs, while Mila couldn’t stand them, instead preferring grilled fruit with a little honey and cinnamon. Then they picked out the guitar and the harmonica and sat there, playing and singing Creedence, country and other great songs, in the light of the fire, drinking booze, hearing the waves smoothly run into the sandy shore, the leves rattle in the breeze.

Despite the fact that Mila sees herself as an established barbecue visitor by now, after exploring her way through several barbecue cultures, this is a new version. Post-apocalyptic barbecue.

“Wonder what food we get, except for potatoes and corn.” Mila says. Juri chuckles at the thought of an all potato and corn barbecue. “Maybe some-” Mila thinks. “Green beans? Tomatoes? Oh, and what if they have found some broccoli! You’d like that.”

Earlier in the day, Mila took Juri out outside the safe zone and went on a journey of discovery in a direction they had not previously gone. After 1,2 miles they came to an open field which Mila immediately recognized as a vast potato field. There were a few, ravaged plants sticking out of the soil, but the chance that there were a lot of potatoes hidden underneath was huge. She let out a roar of joy at the discovery and frightened a couple of birds that angrily lifted from the untouched, rugged earth, and flew away to calmer lands. Some distance away, a barn loomed and Mila purposefully steered her steps towards the grayish-brown building, where the paint had begun to flake from the walls. She pushed open the door and went in, made sure that no walkers were lurking before releasing Juri from the harness and instructing him to search for potato sacks, and other useful things. Mila found the potato sacks, while Juri found a rusty shovel. They returned to the field and Mila began scanning the earth for a potentially lush piece to start digging on. Then she started digging, while Juri began to scrape the ground by hand. The sweat evaporated from her forehead, but being out there in the big field with Juri, performing body work, created an endorphin surcharge within her she hadn’t known for a long time. She felt alive. The smell of the earth, the still breeze and the sound of the shovel shaft digging into the ground. It was agrarian, made her homesick for Russia, to the Russian countryside. Sure, it was barren and vast beyond infinity, but she loved it. Her strong, Russian soul needed an outlet right there and then. Mila started singing. A hair-raising, Russian partisan song, something her grandfather sang for her as a child. Then she needed to cheer up the mood a bit, so she started singing “Panic” by The Smiths instead. Whether it was merry was questionable, but the melody was catchy. She then went down on her knees and started to dig with her hands in the soil. Suddenly she felt something in the ground, and triumphantly she pulled out the lower part of a potato plant, where surely eight or ten potatoes were still attached, and they looked really good!

“Jackpot!” Mila exclaimed.

While digging and tearing up cluster after cluster of potatoes, Mila and Juri talked about all the good potato dishes they could now make, making their mouth water with saliva. Potato gratin, fried potatoes with dill, moussaka with potatoes, one of their absolute favorites. They stopped digging after a sack was filled. Mila had to carry it home, and the sack probably weighed well over 30 kilos, so they stopped working and decided to come back another day, by car.

“Sorry, malenkiy. Time to use your legs.” said Mila, hoisting the sack onto her shoulder, next to the rucksack. Well, time to use mine as well, she thought and felt the heavy bag weighing her down. If Grandma could carry two full buckets of water from the well twice a day for seventy years, I should be able to carry thirty kilos of potatoes back to Alexandria.

Thank goodness she had tough, lanky muscles. And they didn’t run into anyone on the way back. Soaked in sweat and back inside the Alexandria walls, Mila dropped the heavy bag in front of Carol in the kitchen. Carol looked as if she could not believe her eyes at the sack. Mila went and took a much-needed shower, while Carol and Juri started peeling potatoes. She then helped Rick chop wood.

“Ya’ good at this.” Rick said as Mila, once again dripping with sweat after that very unnecessary shower, easily split firewood after firewood with the other ax.

“It may sound like a stereotype, but in Russia you learn this early in life, if you do not want to freeze to death.” Mila huffed and wiped her forehead on her arm. “Grandma and grandpa didn’t have electricity. Then you had to chop wood.”

She took a second shower an hour later, and got herself and Juri dressed up in, not fancy clothes, but clean ones, not covered in soil, dirt and potato peel. In front of the mirror she inspected the scar after the wolves machete. It was still red and bumpy, but had healed nicely, a slight miracle since she hadn’t been taking care of it nearly as well as Denise told her to. She then stepped into a pair of blue, worn jeans and ripped a top over her head. While Juri brushed his hair, Mila inspected him and cracked open a bottle of vodka.

She’s accustomed to pre-parties and has been an avid supporter of the phenomenon since her teenage years; never arrive sober to a party, or a funeral, or anything really if you’re an alcoholic like Mila.

She looks at the brand new bottle of Russian standard in her hand, contemplating if she should sweep it at the spot to increase her chances of ‘mingle and jingle’. Before she turns thought into action Maggie comes up at her right side.

“One could think everything was somewhat- I dunno, pre- all this.” Maggie says and lifts her eyebrows underneath the side swept brown hair.

“Feels odd.” Mila admits. “Nice, but strange. Be happy you don’t feel sick yet. The barbecue smell would kill you.”

Maggie looks down at the grey tank top underneath the checked shirt, smiles at the sight of her own stomach. It’s not prominently pouting yet, but in a few weeks it won’t be possible to hide the bump.

“Can’t wait.” Maggie replies ironically and nods towards the vodka bottle.

“You’re prepared for disaster or what?”

“Mouth water.” Mila says simply. “Bad breath.”

“Might be because of the mouth water.” Maggie grins as they catch sight of the bonfire and the Alexandrians, gathered around it. Maggie sniffs in the air as a puff of grilled meat comes their way. “Okay, I’m starting to get really hungry. Holy moly.”

“Preggers cravings.” Mila teases at the same time as she sees Abraham walking towards them, dressed in a button down shirt for the occasion underneath his jacket. “Looking sharp.” She greets him as he reaches the three of them. His red hair burns even brighter in the light of the flames from the fire.

“Gotta make the best of the opportunity. It’s a party.” He smiles and places a big, bearded kiss on her cheek and gives Maggie a warm hug before he squats and holds up his big palm towards Juri. “High five, little man.” Juri slams his small hand into the big man’s and looks really happy. “Heard ya’ found the potatoes.” Abraham says excitedly. “Great job, dude!”

Maggie and Mila look at each other. Yup, Juri’s the hero and Mila’s the burro, carrying the goodies more than 1,2 miles back to Alexandria. Nah, I can handle it, she thinks as she sees Juri’s proud grin, being the potato boss for the night.

“Come on, Romeo.” Mila starts walking towards the fire, that lures her towards its glowing sphere of heat and safety, awakening something primitive within her, a feeling that fire equals safety.

All of the Alexandria residents seem to be attending. Even Carl sits on a log, dragged in front of the fire, next to Aaron and Morgan. His head is wrapped up and he looks a million times better than two days ago. The color has returned to his cheeks and the sheriffs hat rests homely at the brown curls. Mila smiles at the sight. Rick appears in her field of sight at the same time. He looks fresh out of the shower and as he approaches she clearly feels a faint scent of men’s perfume.

“Carol’s over the moon with the potatoes.” He greets her as he stops in front of her.

“Glad I could contribute.” Mila says. “Where’s Daryl?” She looks around, searches for the broad man on the other side of the bonfire and in the shadows, but he’s nowhere to be seen. “I haven’t seen him today.”

Rick shrugs a little, as to say ‘who knows’.

“Come on.” He nods with his head to the side. “Let’s get ya’ beer.”

“Great.”

While Juri runs off on his own, around the bonfire to sit with Carl, Mila follows Rick over to a table, set with beer and soda. Michonne’s leaning up against the table top with a Coke in her hand, probably mixed up to a Jack and Coke if Mila knows her right, talking to Sasha and Eugene, who, judging by the strong scent, have bathed himself in shaving water. Carol, an Alexandrian woman and Denise sets the table with bowls of food. Mila’s astonished over the amounts of different dishes and sides they managed to put together for the evening. Sasha and Abraham went on a run and found an abandoned greenhouse, which hid all sorts of vegetables that miraculously survived on their own during the apocalypse. Another group of Alexandrians went fishing and also ran upon a few bewildered chickens, who had to sacrifice their lives for the sake of the festivities.

“The wall’s coming along nicely.” Mila says as she lets her gaze wander to the wall, where the big gaping hole where the church tower crashed through about a week ago. The debris is all gone and the hole is temporarily fixed with a few cars, but the structure that's supposed to become the new, reinforced wall, is already appearing.

“It’s gonna be solid.” Eugene says and nods, trying his absolute best to seem cool about it.

Mila’s been amused by him ever since he introduced himself to her; he’s intelligent, awkward and quite strange, but he certainly entertains her with all his clumsiness and strange talking. Despite her nearly ten years in the States, language is still the biggest challenge. Mila’s still learning new words and expressions and Eugene has undoubtedly made it a challenge for her to understand what he’s saying from time to time.

“Yippie.” Mila preaches as Rick puts a beer bottle in her hand. She takes it and chugs the bottle immediately, feeling a sudden rush of intense thirst only an alcoholic can feel in the presence of beer and booze. The intellectual with the prominent mullet stares at her as she takes the last sip of the bottle and puts it away. His expression pokes at her shenanigan-nerve, fuck she has to mess a little with him. “I’m into some real kinky shit after five bottles.” She therefore says and grins wolf-like at Eugene.

Eugene’s cheeks turn red like the fire next to him and he swallows. Michonne laughs into her can and both Rick and Sasha grins, struggling not to laugh. Mila reaches forward and pats poor Eugene on the arm.

“Just fucking with you.” She says and blinks. “Cheers.” And she opens the vodka bottle and offers him the first sip. “Here, it’s good for the nerves.”

“You’re a real tearaway.” Sasha says and breaks off the cap on a new Corona light.

“Extremely poor impulse control.” Mila takes back the vodka bottle and takes a bountiful sip, once again feeling the deep sense of thirst down her throat. “It gets worse with age, I notice.” She peeks behind Sasha at the table. “So, what’s for dinner?”

Carol, who happens to hear her question, comes up to the group at the table, holding a pie between the oven mittens.

“A real feast, that’s for sure.” She explains and puts the pie down. “Ribs, chicken, fish, vegetables, potatoes. Daryl must’ve hit the jackpot, he brought back an entire forest.” Carol smiles and removes the checked oven mittens from her hands. “And pie for dessert.”

“Are we celebrating something?” Sasha says.

“Being alive?” Michonne taps her fingers at the can.

“Anyone having their birthday soon, or just had? That could be a reason.” Eugene suggests.

“Don’t even know what date it is.” Mila says and takes another sip of the vodka. “Mine’s in June.”

“Gotta celebrate something.” Eugene continues.

“How ‘bout-” Rick begins. “A party for those who can’t be here.”

“A death party?” Mila raises her eyebrows at Rick.

“That’s morbid.” Sasha wrinkles her nose.

“Could work.” Mila continues. “Russian funerals often turn into parties. At first people cry something incredibly for hours and hours and hours- Then you drink until you can’t feel feelings anymore.”

“Sounds even more weird.” Eugene expresses. “I like Rick’s idea better.”

“I’m gonna drink anyway.” Mila snorts and continues to drink. At least she’s dressed up somewhat properly for a funeral reception; black top, black leather jacket and, yeah the fedora might be questionable, but at least she wears black boots!

They sit down and eat when Aaron, Glenn, Rosita and Gabriel have sliced the grilled meat and put it on the buffet table. Juri’s plate is filled with potatoes and vegetables as well as Mila’s and he’s got a juice box safely placed between his cute feet. They sit on a log with Rick and Carol; eating, drinking and talking while the fire crackles, the cicadas sing behind the wall. The sky above them is starry and the sparks from the fire rises towards the gleaming stars, millions of lightyears away. But Daryl is nowhere to be seen. Where the hell is he? Mila looks around every now and then, but Rick assures her that he’s alright. Why wouldn’t he? To calm her mind, she empties the vodka bottle and runs to get another one, just as the party attendants does a turn two at the buffet.

“Ey, look who’s back.” Rick suddenly says and looks at Mila- no, over her shoulder, behind her.

Mila turns on the log and looks behind her. Daryl comes walking down the street towards them. In the warm light of the fire Mila can see that he’s fine, unharmed, but holds something behind his back. She gets up from the log, a movement that makes the others pause their conversations and laughter to look at her. Mila gets ready to give him a scolding, but Daryl’s facial expression makes her change her mind. It’s soft, somewhat gawky, but yet soft and not stern and grumpy. It strikes her there and then that he hasn’t looked surly at all lately, at least not while looking at her. She takes a step over the log and walks to meet him. The wrinkle created between her eyebrows softens as he stops in front of her in the light of the big fire.

“Where’ve you been?” She asks and crosses her arms over her chest.

“Had a thing to do.” He says and screws a little, but keeps his back straight. “I’m here now.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Mila looks him straight in the eyes. “But where were you? I was worried.”

Instead of giving her a verbal answer, Mila has come to understand Daryl’s idea, that words are unnecessary sometimes well by now. He takes out what he’s hiding behind his back, and holds it out for her. A guitar. An acoustic sunburst Epiphone, with engraved flowers on the pickguard. Mila stares at the beautiful instrument as Daryl hands it over to her; the shimmery pearly detailing in the maple neck, steel strings and rosewood details. She lifts her gaze and looks at Daryl in awe.

“Though ya’d like it.” Daryl looks at her, not sure if she’s happy or disappointed. “Ya’ said ya’ played.”

Yeah, yes she did say that. But she didn’t think he’d remembered. She can’t speak. Instead, Mila wraps her arms around his neck, with the guitar’s neck still in a firm grip. The last time she got a guitar, it was Jim who surprised her with one. He blindfolded her and drove her to the music store where he led her in, like a blind. Mila stumbled on the threshold and tore off her blindfold, red in the face with anger over his shenanigans. But the anger ran off when she saw where she was.

“Pick one.”

“Pick what?”

“A guitar.” Jim reached out his arms to his side, to the guitars hanging around the walls of the shop. “Whatever one you want.”

Mila picked a light sunburst Fender that time. It was left behind in Brooklyn along with Jim’s old, trusted Gibson. At least their guitars were together.

“Thank you.” Mila whispers into his ear and releases her grip around Daryl’s neck.

It’s one of the finest, most thoughtful gifts she has received in a long time. She squeezes the neck and admires the wooden piece. He really went off and found her a guitar. Around them, the other inhabitants have paused whatever they’re doing, to look at them. Abraham is the one that finally breaks the silence, still chewing on a glazed rib.

“Well, whatcha waitin’ for? Play it, Jersey.” He points at the guitar with the bone.

Her mouth turns into a wide grin. My God, she hasn’t played in awhile and the guitar isn’t even tuned. She takes Daryl’s hand, intervenes her fingers with his and drags him off to the overturned log, steps over it and sits down next to Juri, who looks overjoyed with the possibility of some live music. Her number one fan. Daryl sits down next to her and Carol hands him a plate of food. It’s like someone pressed ‘play’. Everyone starts talking to each other again, eating and drinking, just as before Daryl appeared with the guitar. While Daryl eats, Mila begins to tune the guitar, at the same time as she gets meaningful glances from both Maggie and Carol, who blink at her.

“I did not know you played guitar.” Says Carl and looks wide-eyed at the guitar.

“I'm full of surprises.” Mila smiles cheeky at him.

“Can you make requests?” Rick says and takes a sip of his Corona.

“Depends on the request.” Mila replies. She knows that Rick has a similar taste in music as she; they have more than once hummed along to the same country songs while working, so he won’t have to be disappointed. “I’m a little rusty.” And not nearly drunk enough to feel completely at ease with performing in front of these people, she thinks and looks around. For some reason this is different than before. Different from the bars and the family gatherings with the Galka’s and Jim. “I’ll punch you if any of you say Wonderfall.” Mila squints her eyes at her crowd as she tunes the low E-string, considering the guitar to be in playable condition.

“Thought it was Wonderwall?” Glenn looks at Maggie, slightly confused.

“I’ll punch you.” Mila places her fingers on the cold steel strings and strikes a loop of chords, searching for a melody. She quickly finds the sound she’s looking for; huh, she wasn’t that rusty after all. With her tongue in between her teeth she starts playing something random.

The sheriff's tapping boot is enough for her to pick Rick as her target.

“Come on, I’m not doing it on my own.”

Rick takes a sip of beer, chuckles a little. But Mila’s serious. As is Michonne.

“Do it Sheriff.” Michonne bumps Rick in the side. “We got ya’ back.”

Mila doesn’t wait for an answer. He won’t be able to resist later on. She adjusts the guitar on her leg and starts playing a tune, praying to some higher power that her voice won’t break.

“As long as I remember, the rain's been comin' down. Clouds of mystery pourin', confusion on the ground. Good men through the ages, tryin' to find the sun. And I wonder, still I wonder, who'll stop the rain-”

She gets chills down her spine as she manages to pull the Creedence classic off pretty decently, sitting at the log between the men in her life, surrounded by her new family. Just as when she performed it at that bar with Jim that first time she performed like that in her life, a couple of years ago. She vomited into a bin before going on stage, or more like a corner with a rug of the small, crowded bar in Brooklyn, but as soon as she had the guitar in her hands and started singing, she felt calm, secure. Jim used to say it was a miracle she learned to play the guitar at the pace she did, having only played piano and the violin during her childhood. Guitars was a dumb instrument, according to her papa. Pff, what did he know? Prison was for dumb people, and look where he was? Mila lets the chord die after the last “-and I wonder, still I wonder, who'll stop the rain?”, then continues with Springsteen.

“On a rattlesnake speedway in the Utah desert, I pick up my money and head back into town. Driving 'cross the Waynesboro county line, I got the radio on and I'm just killing time-”

She notices Daryl’s gaze in the corner of her eyes, just as she notices Juri’s nodding head and Abraham saying, mids a chuckle of delighted surprise:

“I’ll be damn.”

It’s like inviting all of them into a very special place of herself, a place where she can be something else than a mom, a dental nurse and a girl with a broken past. With a deep, lingering gaze, she tries to communicate that to Daryl, as a way of explaining her trust in him. To her, music is medicine for the soul and the heart. A heritage she has passed on to Juri when giving him the walkman for his birthday.

“The dogs on Main Street howl, 'Cause they understand. If I could take one moment into my hands, mister I ain't a boy, no I'm a man. And I believe in a promised land-”

She removes her fingers from the strings and the chord echoes out into the night, blends in with the cheering. She’s warmed up now, overflown with the rush of happy adrenaline playing the guitar causes her, just as the applause makes her blush. Okay, let's go with something happy, she thinks.

“Here’s a lil' something to cheer ya’ll up.” She says in her most convincing country-voice, puts her fingers into a ‘G’ and: “Daddy won a radio and tuned it to a country show, I was rockin' in the cradle to the cryin' of a steel guitar-”

It takes Rick ten seconds to hear what song it is, he knows his country music. He jumps into the chorus, at first doubtfully, but encouraged by both Carl and Abe, who have taken out a cigar from his jacket, he seems to think ‘what the hell’, and sings a little louder, with more feeling. And it’s fun.

“Singin 'in the bars and- Chasin' that neon rainbow, livin 'that honky tonk dream.' Cause all I've ever wanted, is to pick this guitar and sing. Just tryin 'to be somebody, just wanna be heard and seen. I'm chasin 'that neon rainbow, livin' that honky tonk dream- “

He continues to sing with her as Mila follows up with the Beatles “Rocky Raccoon”, but lets her continue on her own after that, with both “Thunder road” and a country version of “I’m on fire”.

“Your accent disappears when you sing.” Maggie says as Mila takes a few sips of vodka.

“Yeah I haven’t figured the reason for that out yet.” Mila wipes her mouth on the back of her hand as she grabs the guitar again, her fingertips pulsating from having to work the strings again. “But singing country with an accent would sound weird, I guess? Okay, one last one.”

She ends her one woman-show, which could just as well be seen as therapy for her musically starving soul, with Kate Bush’s “Running up that hill”, as the flames from the fire licks the now pitch black sky, sprinkled with millions, billions of stars.

“Say, if I only could, I'd be running up that hill. With no problems…”

Taglist: @lonewolf471 @twdeadfanfic

#jersey on my mind #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl x oc #daryl fanfiction #twd #twd fanfiction #twd daryl #twd fanfic #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead fandom #the walking dead fanficition

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house-of-tykayl · 4 years

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cystar tho (headcanons)

imagine

cyborg and starfire are the cuddliest couple ever. the PDA is incredible. star will perch on his shoulders like he’s a climbing post/bird perch and generally just drape herself all over him bc he’s got a lot of surface area and she wants comfy. and cy will just grab her out of midair for huggles before letting her float away again like a balloon headed straight for the atmosphere. star will float higher when she wants to look over his shoulder at something (bc hes the only titan taller than her) and sometimes cy will just reach up and touch her waist and lead her around in the air like that while they chat

the other titans support them, but are simultaneously disgusted by the excessive amount of PDA. cy sometimes milks star’s affection to troll everyone, especially at the breakfast table. “hey star i havent had my morning kiss today” “oh apologies” “do that long tongue thingy again babe” “if you two dont let me eat my waffles in peace for just ONE morning i will open a portal to the seventh circle of hell and chuck the both of you inside”

star is living for the unabashed affection bc cyborg has no qualms about being proud boyfriend in public. like he’ll wrap an arm around her and go “hey star’s my girlfriend :)” and the grocery store clerk’s like “we know, that’ll be $15.99″ and star’s just beaming, holding the plastic bags full of snacks and unorthodox food combinations

if cy’s generous with the lovin wait till you see star lmao. “you are looking most beautiful today!” she keeps saying shit literally no one else will say, either (possibly) coz of the robot thing or just coz starfire’s being starfire, and cyborg’s just like *clutches_chest.jpeg* because she a lil weirdo but she makes him feel normal and appreciated and that he’s great the way he is, that he’s desired even if a lot of him isn’t organic anymore. like yes!! my boyfriend is comprised of 80% robotic parts!! he is extremely strong and the “cool”!!! is he not absolutely wonderful???

ok but starfire can almost never get enough touching, and cyborg’s just like aight *picks her up and carries her around on his arm for an hour* and she’ll just be giddy the entire time

more under the cut

star doesnt have a lot of preconceived notions of what a normal human relationship is, outside of things she sees on TV and robin’s incomprehensible push-pulling over the years. so she doesn’t care one bit about the fact that she’s cuddling a robot. she’d figured starting a relationship with anyone on earth would be something different for her regardless– so a lot of the things cyborg used to think a partner would find problems with, end up not happening because man, this alien chick. “may i lay together with you in your bed?” “girl are you saying you wanna sleep while standing up?? on my charging port???? surrounded by 3478012 cables and wires?????” “is there no room? then may i sleep on the floor?” she just wants to be with him

heck more bed shenanigans would involve like, cyborg awkwardly trying to lie down on star’s bed, and it feels weird coz he hasn’t slept in a real bed for years and while it feels nice he’s kinda sinking into the mattress and he’s self-conscious about leaving a dent in the frame?? or like rolling over at night and squashing star which would be awkward coz he’s more than a little heavy?? then star hops in and cuddles close and is all like shhhhhhhhh slep time

silkie is usually very happy about cyborg’s presence in star’s room, if only because he can gnaw on cy’s legs while they sleep. cy begins to think it’s also revenge since there’s a lot less space on the bed with himself in it, and silkie struggles to find room near starfire to sleep at night. they eventually just get a bigger bed. silkie is a lot less stressed– but cyborg still wakes up with chew marks in his legs

if either of them are too tired from a battle that day, the other will carry them to bed. BB laughed his ass off the first time he saw starfire princess carrying cy to his room (star’s perfectly capable of carrying his weight but her arms aren’t necessarily long enough to hold onto him properly, making it a little cumbersome and awkward), but cy just tiredly gives B the finger

cy will talk to star in awkward broken tamaranian and she’ll get all giggly. everyone else assumes it’s cute flirting, but he’s actually whispering dirty, raunchy shit. that she taught him. and she continues to teach him tamaranian, occasionally dropping new words while otherwise speaking english, and waiting for him to ask about what they mean.

cy will sometimes smack star’s ass and then run for his life before she can return the favor, because he always ends up with an overly-enthusiastic handprint-shaped dent in his ass. it’s a terrifying game of tag. BB will chase them chasing each other with a camera to add to his album of “cyborg’s dented ass” photos that he shares with the whole titans network

cy teaches star about the niches in earth/american culture, the kinds of things that are a little harder to learn about on your own, or things she otherwise wouldn’t have had a reason to learn. he tells her about old american tv shows and explains obscure slang words and how to make telemarketers hang up first and what the contra code is and why he mashes it in every time he boots up a new video game. it’s a crash course mix of useless trivia and miscellaneous culture that makes star’s head spin– but she’s excited about learning all the same, the power of just knowing more makes her feel more comfortable on a planet where she is always a foreigner

it’s kinda why star adores all the different nicknames cy has for her like “fly girl” “baby doll” etc because it makes her feel “in” coz she gets all these cool nicks of names like other earth people!! she fits in!!!! and he’ll say it so fondly it makes her blush half the time. cy definitely notices and thinks its super cute at how excited she gets over pet names. she tries to nickname him back at one point but it felt awkward and she struggled to come up with them, and cy reassured her that he liked her saying out his name anyway, its cool. just be yourself babey

cy loves teaching star things in general, he’s patient and she’s always an eager student. he once took a few hours showing her how to play video games and while she didn’t really take to it, she did learn how to not break the controller whenever her virtual car’s about to crash into the divider (she still shrieks when it happens though)

initially, star is a bit nervous about touching some of cyborg’s robot parts like the implants and consoles coz she’s not sure how to deal with them? alien tech is one thing and earth tech is another, and then there’s the advanced shit that made up cyborg’s body and literally keeps him alive. she’s petrified at the thought of accidentally breaking something like what if she presses the button that turns off his lungs???????? and cy is like why the fuck would i have a button to turn off my lungs?? so one day cy just sits her down so she’s leaning back against his chest, and he looks over her shoulder as he shows her how to navigate his arm console. press this button and choose this option, no the screen wont break even if you press hard, dont use the browser to download malware on my arm like BB did, etc. the ui’s pretty intuitive and star gets it pretty quickly, then she gets all excited. cy teaches her about all the maintenance he does on his body and how his charger works and all that shit and she like oooooo

“if the t-car is your baby, does this mean i am its mother? cyborg does she like me enough? should i assist in changing her oil? *panicking* WILL SHE ACCEPT ME AS HER ADOPTED K’NORFKA?!”

(the t-car is a sassy one, easily jealous and protective– but ultimately, she does approve of starfire, if only just barely)

they spend a lot of time in the garage together. whether cy’s fussing with the t-car or putting together a new gadget, star’s a helpful assistant when it comes to welding or heavy lifting. and while she doesn’t necessarily get programming, she still helps cy with all the calculations and math involved in it; the concept of physics as she has encountered on earth is primitive compared to tamaran, and cy will often challenge her to crack a tough equation before his computer can. while the computer usually gets a result first, star will just explain that its answer was wrong in the large scheme of things, before she starts going in depth into that nerdy science shit to find a more effective way to wire whatever project they’re working on and cy’s just like ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ heart eyes ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ at how smart she is

they fucking love food. while all the titans are hanging out in the common room, star and cy spend an inordinate amount of time in the kitchen. star will literally eat anything, at any time, and cy would go like “yo star want a sub??” and shes like “YES I WOULD LOVE THE EDIBLE SUBMARINES” and they go make the tallest sub ever and then Eat it

they just cook together a lot, one of them being head chef for the hour and the other being the kitchen assistant. cy’s usually in the lead when they’re making food for the other titans (to prevent food poisoning), and star is happy to learn new recipes that aren’t lethal to her friends– that, and licking all the mixing bowls clean. cy purposely gets sauce etc on his face so that star will see and lick it off too. then star will very unsubtly smear food on her face so that cy will wipe it off with his finger and then things get handsy. (they’re both aware it’s a game, but they pretend like they don’t.)

cy gets them matching aprons and a tiny chef hat for star. she asks him why it’s so tiny or even necessary but he just thinks its cute af on her lol

it helps cy’s ego when star will also eat literally anything he puts in front of her while enjoying it unironically. of course, cy quickly learns that starfire’s favorite “earth” foods are things that most people wouldn’t consider food at all, so while he’ll prepare Real Food for himself, he had to start a new custom cookbook for the random combinations of ingredients that starfire likes to ingest. he’s torn between feeling like his chef skills go to waste on her, or being proud at how good he’s become at figuring out the kinds of food combos she likes based on the flavors and consistencies she’s inclined to. but ultimately she’s just so cute and happy when she smiles at the taste of m&ms on raw steak that cyborg’s just like ahh. fine.

cyborg: *sighs while writing* “edamame in a cherry-chocolate reduction: get a handful of fresh edamame, washing is optional, pour hershey’s chocolate sauce all over it, add cherries but don’t remove the pits or the stems, sprinkle in some drops of 7up, then cover that shit in mustard. stick it all in the microwave for 1 minute, doesn’t really matter what temperature? prep time: 3 and a half minutes. the fuck did i just write”

star: *wolfs down that edamame shit like its the best goddamn thing ever*

raven:

meanwhile, while cy can’t stomach star’s tamaranean food, he does go out of his way to learn how to prepare the stuff himself, for whenever star’s sick or feeling down. the nostalgic taste of home tends to help her feel better. the bowls of wustlepus might keep trying to strangle him, but hey, cy can handle it

cy used to think we was master of stuffing his face, but he quickly found out that you do not challenge an alien with 9 stomachs to an eating competition and expect to win. it’s still fun, of course, to pick a restaurant and watch her slowly but surely put away food with a grace that cy doesn’t (care to) have. robin and BB cheer will them on, raven is disgusted but plays referee anyway (even though it’s not like the result ever changes)

“are the table manners required for today’s duel of excessive food consumption?” star will ask cy innocently, but she’d be smiling a lil smugly because she knows she’s gonna win like always

(at some point, the restaurant manager will start eyeing them nervously from the doorway of the staff room, unsure about whether to ask the titans to leave before they run the kitchen dry, or to take advantage of the publicity.)

cy and star are a couple that isn’t inclined to subtle about anything. that means smooching all the time. mwah noises. flirting. glomps. yelling at shit together for fun– cy just expresses himself loudly, while shouting at each other is a form of affection on tamaran. they’ll sometimes wrestle, sometimes arm wrestling and sometimes all out full-body on the floor (actual wrestling tho, not a innuendo; star usually wins). they keep denting walls and furniture with their messing around and the other titans are like /(e_e)\ *passing out earplugs* and at some point robin is like guys… just… keep it in your rooms please

but being loud isn’t exclusive to daytime. nobody fucking knows how the hell an alien and a robot get it on, but based on all the god damn noise at night, they’ve apparently figured something out. maybe more than one something. it is a mystery

“hey, star… ever heard of a vibrator?”

most of their making out happens in the gym tho, let’s be real. they’ve been checking each other out for years in there. now they just get frisky after (or during, or before) a workout, culminating in yet another “workout”. they never lock the door, and after enough incidents the other titans just end up boycotting the gym entirely in lieu of the other training room

with the added privacy, star opts to work out in the gym without a top on. or a bra. then she heads for the treadmill

“you never wear clothing, cyborg, so why should i?”

cyborg keeps dropping his weights on himself and just ends up covered in dents, two mangled prosthetic legs, and having done no training at all

they’re such a peppy excited pair that sometimes things can get a bit too wild. there’s a pile in the back of cy’s room made up solely of dented/crushed/melted/ripped arm and leg prosthetics, all damaged because cy was busy pampering his superpowered alien gf a lil too much. starfire feels super bad but cy is like, he has to fix his limbs after a lot of battles anyway, it’s no big deal. he also hasn’t bothered to suggest a workaround yet because watching her lose control is hot (and maybe getting his hand melted is kinda kinky)

they sometimes troll the other titans– usually robin– by whispering in tamaranian behind them and snickering, pretending like they’re talking about them. robin used to be extra miffed by this, but after learning that cy’s tamaranian is actually still shit enough that he has yet to learn to string together a proper sentence longer than 3 words, robin knows they’re just fucking around with him. at one point robin turns around on the couch and throws some tamaranian right back at them and cyborg’s like :O what the fuck? what the fuck?? and star’s like yeah actually robin asked me to teach him tamaranian too. and robin’s like :) and cy is grumpy he can’t antagonize him with it anymore (and that it’s not exclusively his and star’s code language anymore, but really, you can’t own a language like that)

star likes to cart cy around while flying, but he’s just so bulky that he doesnt look all graceful and shit like robin; he just looks kinda goofy dangling in the air with her holding him under the arms. but even if he felt a little self-conscious, he forgets it quickly when she lets him skim the ocean with his feet or take him up over the clouds– he’d thought he lost everything with the accident that left him a robot, but getting to fly like this is something he never could’ve even dreamed of even when he was all human. like. this must be what it actually means to be living. everything happens for a reason

cy gets a UV lamp installed in his body just in case they get stuck somewhere and there’s no sunlight for star, he can’t replace the sun but it might help

he also turns his heaters up a bit when they’re cuddling coz he knows she likes warmth, as long as he’s not running the risk of overheating his system, but his metal parts can be cold to the touch and while she doesnt mind it at all he just wants her to be cozy….

cy’s like the only titan taller than star, so she usually floats to be eye level with him. he big and bulky and strong and he reminds her of galfore, and that’s part of why she always felt protected and safe around him. not to mention star’s been getting taller than most earth people her age; she sometimes feels like a tall poppy, sticking out of the crowd too much. so she lowkey enjoys being smol for once compared to cyborg, especially if she ever feels like hiding behind him, or being carried by him, the comfort of a sort of bodyguard that she doesn’t necessarily need but is there if she wants

i keep bringing this up but star sitting on cyborg’s shoulders/arms like. the result is this tall stack of a couple that towers over all the other titans– then like everyone will be chilling on the couch when they hear making out noises from above and they look up and its just star floating around cyborg’s head as they smooch and everyone’s like -_-

all the meme fun aside, they’re always able to confide in each other whenever they’re upset. they’ll sit together in silence and just lean on each other or hug and wait for someone to spill. if (when) it comes down to “will i ever fit in?”, because that kinda worry never completely goes away, they’ll be reassured that they know the few places they’ll always be accepted– and that’s in the titans, or in the unconventional relationship between a half robot and an alien nuclear bomb

star likes being around cy coz he’s so sturdy, in more ways than one– he’s strong enough to tank stuff so it’s safer to roughhouse with him. she loves being able to give the biggest of hugs without worrying too much about crushing a ribcage (earthlings and their Fragile Little Bones!)

cy loves how small star is compared to him bc shes fun to pick up or pluck from the air and cuddle ♥ and she’s so warm, just radiating heat both literally and metaphorically and she’s so full of life and heart, and cy’s once again reminded of what it really means to be human– by a goddamn alien, no less

they like to touch each other’s faces, just caressing n stuff like they do in “how long is forever” and the teen titans go comic #24, staring into each others eyes and shit and going all (uwu) they just love to touch each other okay even back when they were just friends!!!!!!!

HAVE I MENTIONED THE SMOOCHES. star will just kiss cy all over his face because its fun and she knows he likes it. then cy returns the favor, except with increasingly exaggerated kissing and nomming noises because it makes star laugh and blush like crazy. it’s horribly embarrassing for anyone else watching. star & cy are usually standing in the middle of the corridor by this point, and then robin was gonna head to his office, but once he sees the path is blocked– by this no less– just returns the way he came without a word

if anyone tries to make star feel uncomfortable for being alien or misunderstanding something, which does still happen sometimes, they’ll quickly find out they’ve got the goddamn terminator comin for their ass. or they’ll turn around and see 6 foot tall robot man with arms crossed and red eye glowing and he’ll be like (: hey there (:

star keeps leaving the garage with motor oil all over her face. none of the other titans knows how to address it, or if they even should, so they don’t

anyway theyre in love

#:)#text #cystar #im weak #yes i referenced teen titans go because ttg actually has the wholesome cystar content can you believe this. episodes just about them #and theyre really cute #fight me irl #might edit this later its a mess #long post

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nicoletterogers · 4 years

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h e a d c a n o n s, pt. 1

( tw: brief & vague mentions of death )

nic goes by nic--not nicolette. there are only three people in the world that can call her nicolette: her father, her brother and her ex-husband (yes, even now). but even liam didn’t use it very often, he opted for nicky--which to this day, most people don’t use.

nic used to go to early fall out boy concerts growing up, usually sneaking out of her house to get to them until she got her license. her favorite album is definitely take this to your grave-- “chicago is so two years ago”, now that’s a bop. but usually, nic is either listening to 80′s & 90′s rock music, with a smattering of badass 90′s women artists to really inspire her.

nic’s go to karaoke songs go in this order: mr. brightside, you oughta know and if you can get her up a third time, she’ll serenade you all with a sweet, sweet rendition of drops of jupiter. but if she’d with a group? all bets are off, but usually she’ll try to coerce them into at least one queen song.

since she was a kid, nic has never been able to eat mashed potatoes. the texture really...freaks her out. she knows this puts her in the running for the weirdest human alive, but she can’t help it. same with ripe bananas and cereal with milk. too bad friendship contracts and a specific no take-backsies clause.

nic didn’t grow up reading a whole lot--she didn’t get into comic books until high school, but she did read one series in its entirety, The Princess Diaries. It’s her favorite book series and she doesn’t care what you think about the fact that she loves it, Mia Thermopolis is the most relatable teen princess ever and perhaps Nic’s first feminist icon.

she can play guitar--not exactly well, but her dad had thought enrolling her in guitar lessons would help her focus some of that...chaotic energy into something productive. it worked..for a year. and then nic got to high school and suddenly she had other things to focus on...

...like cheerleading. or archery. nic was a apart of a few extracurriculars when she was in high school and none of them would have made any sense to someone just passing through. nic likes to break expectations and break stereotypes. so, a cheerleader is supposed to be peppy and girly? not nic. she didn’t date a quarterback, didn’t make prom queen and had no care about homecoming court. but she liked the girls on the team--mostly. they existed in a different world than she did, though. but it was one of the only times in her life that she had a real group of friends who identified as girls. she didn’t hate it, but she preferred her brothers friends. it was easier with them.

tell tale signs nic doesn’t want to talk about something: she’ll avoid eye contact, pick a less emotional part and stay on that, peeling back bottle labels, and make jokes to avoid the emotion

nic doesn’t cry in front of people, it’s not her thing. she doesn’t believe emotions are bad--in fact, she thinks they’re good. but she is still a woman in a role that the world still assumes is only done by men, so she feels a certain amount of expectation to suck it up. also, it probably doesn’t help that she was raised around men who also never cried (#thanksToxicMasculinity) so she hardly did that. so if she does cry in front of you, something is really, really wrong.

when nic makes her coffee in the morning, she has to stir the drink 8 times before her first sip. if she buys it? she swirls it 8 times. don’t ask, she doesn’t know why but she’s always done it.

nic’s first job was working as a indoor amusement park attendant for tiny children. she hated it, but she got to work there with her high school best friend and they had some decent times there. but to this day, watching someone operate a ferris wheel gives her slight anxiety.

nic has never owned a car, just her Yamaha V-Star 650 Custom, which she calls Daisy. she loves her bike--and she’s had it since she was in her early twenties. her father and brother were pissed when she bought it, but it was her choice and nic had always wanted one. they were worried she’d break her neck--and perhaps she had been close a few times. but neither of them need to know that. she loves the look on people’s faces when she pulls up on her bike and they don’t know her. its so satisfying for her to see their look of surprise.

nic’s fictional female icons go: megara, kim possible, mia thermopolis, carol danvers, maria rambeau and maria deluca. no questions.

nic watches a lot of documentaries, a habit she picked up from her brother. he loved watching them because they inevitably helped him kick butt in jeopardy. she kept his tradition alive when he passed--recording jeopardy episodes so she can play when she gets home from work. she’s pretty good, actually.

she can only watch one (1) scripted/reality tv show at a time, unless its live on tv at the moment. right now, she’s binging roswell, new mexico--but queer eye is next. and yes, while she doesn’t cry in public, you can bet your ass she’ll be tearing up watching that show. she always does.

surprise to no one, nic was a camp counselor and loved it. favorite parts of her summer as a college kid. she didn’t really care how werid she got for the kids, they loved it and therefore she was doing her job and doing it well.

celebrity crushes? sure: chris evans, chris hemsworth, robert downey jr., ryan gosling, alex gaskarth, michael b jordan, henry golding.

nic is not an organized person, not one bit. its why cooking and her do not mix well--she can never get her mise en place together enough for it to be a nice flow. but there are certain things that nic prefers to be disorganized (or, how she calls organized chaos) and her desk at work is one of them. she likes that her desk matches her brain, messy but gets the job done.

nic owns dresses, surprise! she never wears them, but they are in her closet--tucked away. sometimes she thinks about putting on one to just...confuse everyone, but she never does. deep down, she wouldn’t hate wearing one or two, but she doesn’t have a place to do it and she’d never gotten into the...fashion scene. she’ll tell you until she’d blue in the face that she doesn’t “do” fashion, but its because she never learned how to. her mom wasn’t around to help her figure out makeup, clothing, hairstyles--and her brother and father didn’t care about it. so she just...doesn’t. which, is fine most of the time, but sometimes she thinks about trying and then pushes it aside.

she also still has her wedding dress. but we don’t talk about that.

is it cliche to say she likes donuts? maybe. does she give a shit about cliches? nope.

she’s got a bit of a sailors mouth, but she sure as hell doesn’t give a shit. in fact, if you don’t curse, she thinks you’re weird as hell.

her favorite shoes are chucks and chacos. and no, she didn’t plan that.

waffle house is one of her favorite restaurants and her order goes like this: all star breakfast with sunny side up eggs, bacon, and a side of scattered and covered hashbrowns and a diet coke. or and don’t forget the grape jelly.

#[[wake up sunshine; headcannons]]#we out here trying with nic muse #brief mentions of #tw death #if any of these spur plot ideas lmk

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cupcakemendes1 · 5 years

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First Thanksgiving

At the front door of your grandparents' house, Shawn was adjusting his watch, double checking the time. He then straightened out the wrinkles that made home to his button-down shirt and black skinny jeans. You were dressed in one of your favorite dresses that reaches your ankles to protect you from the cool fall breeze, and your long hair that you've grown out for the last year was curled.

"Is it okay that we're ten minutes early?" Shawn asks, his voice a little high pitched and fragile sounding.

You scoff. "Shawn, it's fine. Even if we were on time, the y/l/n family is never ready until an hour later. You can help my family cook, or if my cousin is here, you two can wrestle. But make sure he doesn't mess up that beautiful face of yours!" You laugh as you kiss his chin.

As Shawn was about to knock on the door, your grandmother swung it open, her hair frizzy, her apron stained, and her hands covered in something, what you hoped it to be butter.

"Oh, my grand-baby! How was the flight?" Your grandmother asks quite loudly. "Oh, Shawn Darling, you look quite handsome! Y/N, you picked a good one! Come in! Come in!" She moves aside, and you and Shawn come strolling in, your high heels clicking on the laminate flooring.

Shawn grips your hand tight as you lead him to the kitchen and living room where everyone was huddled and running around like headless chickens.

"Oh, Honey," your mom shouts. "You look beautiful! Everyone, Y/N is here! Oh, and her famous boyfriend!"

You roll your eyes. "Ma, he's more than just famous, and his name is Shawn," you say defensively.

Shawn nudges you and whispers, "It's okay Babe."

To you, it wasn't okay. You want your family to like Shawn not because he's famous -- you hated when people first describe Shawn like that. To you, he was more than that. He was kind, funny, handsome, generous, and so much more. You can go on and on, talking about how Shawn is, and how he's made you the happiest person on the planet -- more than you've ever imagined you can feel.

Your dad engulfs you in a bear hug and rustles your curls. "Ah, it's nice to see you, Y/N!" Your dad turns to Shawn, shaking Shawn's hand tight as he gives him a dead, cold look. "If you break her heart, I'll break you, got it?" Your dad never stops staring down Shawn, and your boyfriend turns to you, his eyes pleading for help.

"Daddy, c'mon." You beg. "Don't do the macho dad thing."

"Oh, I'm just teasing, Love Bug. I don't want a herd of fans outside my house to tear me to shreds." Your dad does the 'manly hug' thing that guys do with the almost chest touching and pats on the back. Shawn looked somewhat relieved. However, the night just started. Anything can happen.

"Y/N, can you help me with the mashed potatoes?" Your mom calls over at you.

You turn to Shawn. "Go sit on the couch and socialize. My oldest cousin probably wants to threaten you too. Or my uncles," you tease.

Shawn nervously laughs as he rolls his eyes.

You walk over to the stove where your mom was mixing a tall pot of mashed potatoes. She glances at you over her shoulder. "I need you to pour some milk as I mix." So you grab the gallon of milk and pour when your mom tells you to. Then your mom sparks a separate conversation. "How's being with Shawn?"

You smile. "Honestly, it's been amazing. Totally worth the horrible breakups in high school." You pour a dab bit more milk.

"Was it scary at first? I mean like was it threatening to be with someone as famous as Shawn?" Your mom stops mixing and makes eye contact with you. You knew it was a serious topic when your mom stopped cooking.

You suck in your breath. Breathe, you tell yourself, be honest. "Yeah. I was especially scared to get death threats from fans. I knew it happened with non-famous people that dated famous people. For example, Liam Payne's girlfriend and Louis Tomlinson's girlfriend. It even happens with famous couples like with Ariana Grande when she broke up with her fiance. She got a lot of hate. I mean, nothing is a secret from the world, you know." You glance back at Shawn who was making small talk with your grandpa and uncles. "But with Shawn and his fans, it's so easy. When I'm with Shawn, everything seems calm." You crack a smile.

Your mother rubs your back, and tell you to pour a little more milk.

After finishing the mashed potatoes, you walk over where the rest of your family was swarming around Shawn, listening to all sorts of stories of touring around the world and traveling.

"You know, I've always wanted to play guitar. Maybe you can teach me," your grandfather says. "You know I won't live forever!"

"Grandpa, Shawn's too busy with going on tours and making music. Maybe you can just take normal classes at the music shop down by the college." You intervene.

Your grandfather huffs. "Okay."

Shawn laughs and makes room on the sofa for you to sit, so you do. You reach for his hand to give it a slight squeeze.

"Has Y/N gone to any other concert with you that's in another state or country?" Your oldest cousin questions.

Shawn and you exchange a glance and simultaneously say yes.

"She actually was with me throughout Europe since she's always wanted to travel through there," Shawn says. "She was in the crowd and at the rehearsal. She was even with me at the meet and greets. The fans loved her." Shawn gives your hand a little squeeze.

You look down at his Swallow tattoo, tracing it with your fingers. It was your favorite tattoo of his besides his home, work, and family-themed tattoo as fit in the shape of a guitar.

You and Shawn even got a matching tattoo: a semi-colon for the semi-colon awareness project. It was a representation of each other's mental illnesses challenges with Shawn's anxiety and your depression. The semi-colon had basically meant you weren't alone and your story never ended. It promises that you will overcome these obstacles.

Shawn had noticed you tracing his tattoo. He chuckles quietly to himself.

"Y/N?" Shawn has a wide smile on his face.

You jerk your head up. "Yeah?"

"Your cousin asked you if you actually like my music or if you're just a big fat liar." Shawn teases as he nudges your side with his elbow.

You roll your eyes and scoff. "Nah, I was only a fan for his looks. Didn't think much of his music," you say sarcastically as you blow a raspberry and put your thumb down. "So terrible."

Shawn puts his hand over his heart as he gasps. "Ouch, babe! You hurt my feelings. I'm dying of a broken heart."

You shove him and he rustles your hair as you both laugh.

"Ew, get a room," your younger cousin says. "Dumb love."

You look over at Shawn and whisper. "Yeah, love," you trail off.

***

"Thanks, mom." You say as you hand her your plate. "I'll be there in a second to help wash dishes."

"Oh, don't worry Mrs. Y/L/N, I'll help. You relax. Y/N and I got it." Shawn says.

Your mom smiles. "Oh, thank you. So unexpected!" She collects Shawn's plate as well and heads into the kitchen to place them down.

"Shall we?" Shawn says with a smirk.

You and Shawn get up to the kitchen after collecting finished cups and plates. You and Shawn do rock, paper, scissors to see who rinses and who washes. Shawn wins, so he rinses. You begin scrubbing.

"Your family is really great, babe. And I only got threatened by your dad, two uncles, and I think the dog." Shawn laughs.

"Yeah, sorry. I told my grandma you were allergic, but I guess they didn't put Storm away. She's just too spoiled, but is that Benadryl working?"

"Yeah. Not too bad." He takes in a deep breathe. "Ah, that wonderful smell of oxygen!"

You roll your eyes. "Okay. Drama queen."

He leans down and kisses your forehead. "I love you, Y/N. I can't wait until I go to more family events with you."

#Shawn Mendes #Shawn Mendes Imagines #Thanksgiving with Shawn #Family #Shawn Mendes Holidays #Shawn Mendes Girlfriend

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parsleybabe · 5 years

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Home Made Simple S01E02 - Product Placement Overload

The episode starts out with the same host and same chef but two different renovators. Imma call them Wood Guy and Deco Guy.

The family consists of a mom, a dad and their two daughters – one is a toddler and one is still a baby and completely disappears from the entire episode right after being introduced. They’ve just moved into a home and the goal is to renovate the living room and patio so the family can throw a party to introduce themselves to the neighborhood

So, here are my personal highlights of this episode:

There’s actually very little gender bias in this one. It starts out with Chef Guy talking about how they’re going to make party comfort food like a mom would make it, but without the love handles. That’s not even that cringey, I guess. I just didn’t like it how he connected comfort food with mom and love handles. Could be me being a bit oversensitive here, though. I did find it interesting however, that, in this episode, they didn’t explain why the mom was gonna participate in the cooking while the dad was helping with the tools. I mean, contrary to the previous episode where the mom doing the hard work was presented as a surprise. Just saying.

But, let’s stick to the title of my review and move on to product placement #1: Fairly early on, the family dog is introduced (he completely disappears from the entire episode after this one scene btw, much like the baby before). And isn’t dog hair just THE WORST? It really, really is a huuuuge problem and it’s seriously “going to ruin the wall treatment”, Deco Guy explains. So he introduces Swiffer Sweeper Vac with the words, “I live by these things” and “it’s absolutely amazing”. They even give instructions to the mom who tries it out, “Push forward… push forward... it swivels… good job!” and then she is left alone in the room sweeping the floor as if she’s never done that in her life before.

What’s super funny though is that, later on in the episode, when they’re actually cleaning the same floor after all the renovations are done, they DON’T use the swiffer but another brand sweeper and it’s super obvious too because the swiffer one is neon green and the one they later use is grey and dark blue. That really cracked me up.

Anyway, let’s move on to Wood Guy who is working with the dad on wooden benches with storage space inside for the patio. Except… they don’t really show how to build them. They just talk about how that’s what they’re gonna do and then the dad gets to use a power saw once. Suddenly, they have a bunch of finished wooden boxes (I assume they built them, but it’s not shown or explained) and they line up some wooden bars on top of one for the lid (but we don’t get to see them screwing them on or explain how the lid works at all). Instead we see them paint the finished box benches. Because that’s important, I guess. Btw, we actually see one of the benches open very briefly in the background during the end credits, and you can see some metal lid mechanism, but that’s never explained on the show. And, honestly, why would we need to know how to do that, right? If we wanna build storage benches, we should focus on the essentials like painting them.

Meanwhile, Chef Guy explains to the mom how to make meatloaf. Honestly, it’s just your everyday bog standard meatloaf recipe, (just baked in cupcake forms and later mashed potatoes spread on top). But the meatloaf recipe alone is a huuuuge revelation to the mom, apparently, and she can’t stop praising it. The funniest thing about this scene, though, is how they use whipping cream for the mash. And while the info bar on screen suggests that you could replace it with nonfat buttermilk if you’re worried about calories, Chef Guy who is so massively opposed to love handles uses whipping cream. Consistency is key.

Anyway, back to topic and on to product placement #2: On the patio, Wood Guy discovers the BBQ grill and desperately needs to show the dad how to clean it. He whips out some Mr Clean Magic Erasers and starts putting them to work. Which is not only a lackluster presentation, but also doesn’t show the actual “magic” of the product (the thing can remove stains from walls and grime from plastic furniture ffs, and there’s tons of products better suited to clean a fucking grill - honestly, I’ve tried the erasers on a grill, that’s the one thing they suck at). But hey, who cares. And of course Host Lady comes in and chimes, “This is amazing!”

Also, fun little side note, I found it super endearing how they got a BBQ on the patio and clean it and display it, but for throwing their patio party they don’t use it at all. Instead they serve meatloaf. Smart.

I briefly find some true respect for Deco Guy, because he takes the mom garden shopping and drops some actual gardening knowledge. I mean, nothing new, and none of it is actually used on the show, but at least he seems to know what he’s talking about. I guess some viewers who aren’t familiar with gardening at all could benefit from that. I’m genuinely impressed.

Back home, Deco Guy wants to repaint the already existing patio table. It’s a super rustic, solid metal table that looks great as it is, but he wants to add color, so. Host Lady almost loses it when she hears that he picked bright yellow for the new color. I’m not kidding, she actually goes “Whoaaaaaaa! YAAAAAAAYYYYY!!!” and jumps up and down and claps her hands. I don’t even know, I guess she hasn’t seen any yellow in a really really long time?

Anyway, before painting the table they have to clean it. And, of course, they don’t use the magic erasers for that, even though THAT would have been the perfect moment to introduce the real selling point of the genius little fuckers (in all honesty, I’m a huge fan of those things), but no, they use cloth, water and soap.

And then they paint it and make the solid metal table look like cheap plastic. But let’s not focus on what is a clearly a matter of taste. The true highlight of this scene is how Deco Guy gets spray paint on his pants and is devastated. I immediately lose all hard-earned respect for the guy, because… The guy’s supposed to be a professional renovator and should know not to wear his favorite jeans when doing paint work. I mean, come on.

The sprinkle on top, though, is when Host Lady asks how to get the stains out, he replies, “that’s a different show”. And I’m munching on my popcorn, because… I mean, they didn’t mind introducing a dog hair sweeper and they’re making meatloaf and all that on a renovating show, but talking about getting paint stains out doesn’t fit the format. This is getting more and more interesting by the minute.

Moving on to the living room: Deco Guy introduces the idea to put wallpaper on one of the walls and everybody is just purely floored by the idea, because nobody has ever thought of putting wallpaper anywhere apparently. The mom, who is actually a clothing designer says she’s always loved wallpapers but never thought of getting any. She literally goes “It’s very different” and I don’t even have words.

Not gonna talk much about how Chef Guy then teaches the mom to toast ready bought cinnamon bread and spread ricotta on it. After all, that’s just the subtle introduction to the true message of the scene: product placement #3, where Chef Guy casually asks the mom if she’s nervous about meeting the neighbors, while nonchalantly putting a Cascade dishwashing tab into the machine with the container on full display in two separate locations inside and on the counter and the camera following his hand. Veeeeery subtle. They don’t even mention the name this time, I’m impressed.

Host Lady is on a roll throughout the whole episode, by the way. Not only does she get overexcited about everything around all the adults, she actually turns it up a notch around the toddler. She speaks in this weird baby voice. Later, when the parents are discussing the emotional value of family photos, she just snatches the kid and hugs her as tight as she can. At this point I genuinely wonder if they’re related, because if any stranger had grabbed me like that as a kid, I would have hidden in the farthest corner of my bedroom and not come out again until highschool. If they’re not related, that family has one heck of a tough kid.

Time for final results. The living room is decorated and it looks alright. They didn’t really add much, but mostly changed the furniture placement. The walls have new paint and wallpaper, and there’s some family pictures thrown into the mix. The biggest change, imo, is that they hung three huge white plastic gazelle heads onto the wall. And I know this is a matter of personal taste, but they look really weird, reminiscent of hunted animals on the edge of extinction (which feels wrong), but plastic (which looks cheap on top), and they are white on a yellow-white wallpaper, so they don’t even contrast anything really. They just look super wrong to me. But, anyway, like I said, matter of personal taste. However, while I genuinely thought that we weren’t hit with the gender bias in this episode, Host Lady dishes one out last minute by pointing at the gazelle heads and telling the dad, “This is for you. This is the manly touch!” Ahh, no wonder I didn’t get it.

Finally, they move on to the patio and the best and sole improvement of the whole episode is that there is now an awning spreading over part of the patio. It’s perfect because it matches the request that the family had in the beginning (which was less direct sun), but they never showed how it was made or bought or installed on the episode at all. It’s just there when the family comes to see the end result. But, I mean, why would you show that, right?

#home made simple #imma keep making episode reviews for this #the show is just too crappy not to

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thotyssey · 6 years

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On Point With: Double Headed Disco

Longtime resident DJs of Nowhere Bar in the East Village--and the guys behind that bar’s popular monthly deep-tracks-meets-pop-art Double Headed Disco--Jeff Jackson [above pic, left] & Disco Connie [right] will be spinning the 15th Anniversary of Nowhere this weekend! Thotyssey gets on the beat with this popular pair.

Thotyssey: Jeff and Connie, hello! Thanks for talking to us today! How was your Halloween... where did you go, and as what?

Jeff Jackson: Hi Thotyssey! We celebrated Halloween early this year at our regularly scheduled Double Headed Disco party this past Saturday... we had a blast. We had a post-punk/new wave theme; Adam Ant was our cover star.

Disco Connie: For costumes, we wore matching Arthur Rimbaud masks, inspired by David Wojnarowicz, one of our favorite artists who had a huge retrospective at the Whitney and other galleries this summer.

What is the best Halloween-themed deep track that all bars and clubs should have been playing last night?

JJ: I’m a big “Monster Mash” fan, but for a deep track I’d have to go with “Prince of Darkness” by Bow Wow Wow.

DC: I like sexy / camp disco numbers like “Soul Dracula” by Hot Blood, but this year I was happy to play “Halloween” by Japan.

Tell us your life stories! Where are you from, what music were you into growing up, and how did you become DJs?

JJ: Music was all around me as a kid, but my first love was disco... especially Donna Summer and Chic. And I’ve been collecting records ever since I was young. So my desire to share my records with other people is how I evolved into DJing--first at house parties, and later on at bars and clubs.

DC: I grew up in Jersey listening to disco, new wave, and house on the radio, back when the DJs would hear new underground records at a club and play them on the air the next day. I spent lots of nights in clubs as I got older, but only started playing music in public at Nowhere.

And what’s your music of choice, when you are spinning or even when you're just at home listening?

JJ: I am genre-agnostic, so my DJ sets vary from soul and R&B, disco or house, to new wave, rock or hip hop. As a voracious listener, I’m always digging for new records, new sounds... and I love mixing well-known popular artists with underground stuff that people may not know so well.

DC: Obviously disco, surprise surprise! But I also really enjoy the nights when we play house and new wave. At home, I listen to all kinds of things. I can listen to one song over and over again for a whole day or throughout the week, but other times I have a short attention span. Shuffle is my friend.

Isn't it bizarre and frustrating that so many kids wanna go out to the bars and clubs and only hear the same 20 songs from their own Spotify?

JJ: We get a lot of die-hard disco fans at our party, so we end up getting good requests. Like “can you play Diana Ross?” And of course, we do!

DC: We joke about how many times over the years we’ve been out at a bar/club and gone up to the DJ to make a request (that would be zero), but people of all ages do it now. Sometimes it’s clear they don’t even have a specific song in mind. They just want to make a request.

How did you two come to Nowhere?

JJ: Since the bar opened, basically. I approached one of their DJ’s, Pete Money, and he said "oh, you wanna DJ with me?” Pete and I DJ’ed together for years, and then I got Connie involved!

DC: I lived across the street when the bar opened, so it was very Cheers for me. I would drop in on the different parties during the week, and got to know a bunch of great people here.

Tell us about your popular monthly (last Saturdays} party Double Headed Disco at Nowhere. How did you two come together to start this, and what keeps the kids coming back?

JJ: It actually started as Connie’s birthday party. I asked Pete if he would do an all-disco set with me, and that was the first disco party. It wasn’t called Double Headed until the next month when one of our buddies, BJ the Pornologist, named us!

DC: We like to put a bit of effort into the party, so we think about musical and visual themes all the time and bounce ideas off of each other. We decorate the bar and transform it into something special for the night. We have some regular annual parties, like our big Grace Jones party on Thanksgiving weekend (my favorite) but each month is something different.

Jeff, you also host a twice-a-month party of your own, Numbers! Best flyers ever, by the way! Tell us about that night.

JJ: Oh, I’m glad you like the flyers! Numbers is on first and third Saturdays. Every week I pick a cover star, and theme my set around that artist. I’ll play tracks by the featured artist, and mix in other songs that are from the same era, genre or are inspired by the cover star. I also show offbeat vintage movies, which people really gravitate to. The night is named after the first gay bar I ever went to in Baltimore, where boys with feathered hair would slow dance to Wham! Ha!

And Jeff, you were a presence at the recent benefit show DRAGS, the second of such show in as many years in tandem with Gregory Kramer's photo book of the same name. What was your impression of that night? And... I heard there might be a book sequel in the works!

JJ: Yeah, Greg is my husband, so I am biased. But the DRAGS event is amazing! This was the second year, and the event raised over $30k for the Ali Forney Center. Connie is actually part of the crew too, wrangling talent backstage while I help in the sound booth. I wasn’t the DJ... this year it was Hannah Lou, and she was a real kiki. And planning has started for next year’s event already. Also, Greg has been working on a new project for some time now, but I can’t talk about it just yet.

Nowhere is about to turn 15! The bar is known for it's music and DJ-driven nights, which make it stand out in the sea of gay bars in the city. How have you enjoyed the ride so far?

JJ: We both love Nowhere. It’s like a second family to us.

DC: 15 years is a long time. We feel lucky to be part of it all. We’ve met so many great people over the years.

You two will be DJing the anniversary party on Saturday, with drag queen Princess Bitch performing!

JJ: It’s going to be a blast. We’re spinning disco and house, and Princess Bitch is giving shows! She turned everyone out at DRAGS and at my Purple Party back in April.

DC: The anniversary party is also a benefit for the New York Transgender Advocacy Group. We have a suggested $5 donation at the door. We felt strongly about raising visibility and showing support for our transgender friends and family, especially considering how central they’ve been to our experience at Nowhere.

Anything else you wanna plug or mention?

DC: I’m also a hand model, lol!

Werk! Finally: how important is it that everyone votes in November?

JJ: It shocks me that people don't vote! But we need to make sure people are not only voting, but voting for candidates that support LGBTQ equality. And if you’re not sure who those candidates are, do a little research this weekend. Ask your friends. It’s so easy, and so important.

DC: It feels like every day is a new horror. We can’t just sit around and hope things change on their own. There are so many ways to get involved even during these critical last few days. Check out Swing Left or The Creative Resistance. I love the saying that goes something like, “we can’t all do everything but we can each do something.”

Thanks, guys!

DJs Jeff Jackson & Disco Connie spin “Double Headed Disco” monthly last Saturdays (10pm) at Nowhere Bar. Also at Nowhere, Jeff spins “Numbers” every first and third Saturday (10pm). Check Thotyssey’s calendar for Jeff and Connie’s upcoming gigs, and follow “Double Headed Disco” on Facebook and Instagram.

On Point Archives

#onpointwith #doubleheadeddisco #jeffjackson #discoconnie

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kheichou-blog · 6 years

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10 Songs I’m Currently Obsessed With

Tagged by: @geekgoddess813

I love music, and my favorites are always changing and shifting and what not lol SOOOOOOOO... if I’ve been tagged in this once, I can do it again pretty much any other time cause it’ll likely always have a bit of difference xD

I’ll link to each song so if you feel like it, you can take a listen! Aaaand of course don’t feel like you have to read every mini paragraph of mine LOL

These are in no particular order~

1: Hate Me- Blue October

The first time I heard this song it honestly brought me to tears. Now my favorite version of this song is an acoustic version that I’ve only managed to hear on Pandora, but I will gladly listen to -any- version of this song. Blue October is a very special group to me, and this song especially hits me really hard, not necessarily for the exact things he’s singing about, but it hits a lot of things I’ve struggled with and thought. It’s one of the songs that is going to forever and ever be on my sona’s playlist.

2: Change (In the House of Flies)- Deftones

So I’ve always love love LOVED this song. Like Hate Me, it makes me feel -very- emotional, this is the song I’m reeeeeally working on doing a solo for because the best way to do a solo is to find a song that just... makes you feel so much you feel it overflowing. It’s also one of the songs I didn’t even think twice before throwing into the playlist of angsty goodness for one of @prettyprompto and I’s current RPs LOL But yeah, it’s a really good song, and I’ve always just been extremely drawn to it.

3: Elastic Heart- (Rock Cover) Written by Wolves

Okay... I’m a SIA whore, but it’s seriously because of this cover of this song. As much as I love the original, to me, this version specifically really conveys this feeling of like, easy easy easy POW. Like I adore how you get the verses, and you just get duder singing and it’s like “oh this is alright” and then suddenly you find yourself with eyeliner pouring down your eyes shouting “WELL I’VE GOT THICK SKIN AND AN ELASTIC HEART” right there with him while the guitars and drums kick the fuck up and AH <3 Just a great cover in my opinion!

4: Gods & Monsters- Jessica Lange

Ever since I performed in my local vaudeville and one of our guys dressed as bride of Frankenstein and performed this, I -loved- it. The performance itself was just... gorgeous. I would share it if I could, but I don’t have permission from the performer and stuff x’D This version especially I adore. It has this air of mystery that the original just doesn’t... and in my honest opinion, it sounds so much less try hard and forced edge. The words they used to replace some of the original lyrics just... flows a lot better to me! Props to that beautiful smokey voice Jessica Lange possesses that I wish I could match ;v;

5: Boom- iBenji

Okay so one of my belly girls and I have been dancing to this for MONTHS, we’re getting ready to do our second performance to this piece (after adding a third person to it too :D) and well... what’s the significance of that? WELL... when you’re performing a dance to a piece... you listen to it multiple times, I’ve probably easily listened to the 2 and a half minute cut of this the goils and I are doing at least 300 times now and I tell you........ somehow I am not at all tired of it. This song is so fucking powerful, and I just can’t help but feel like a badass and bounce around to it whenever I hear it~

6: Hold My Heart- Lindsey Stirling feat. ZZ Ward

So if someone asked me what Iggy and Ashe’s song would be.... well I’d have two answers for yah honestly! One of them would be Fallen Angel from Panty and Stocking, but the other one is this, because this encapsulates the person Ashe was eeeearly early on in the relationship (little miss I DON’T NEED YOU CAUSE I’M STRONG but I guess like... it would be nice to like... have someone to love and love me back...?)

7: Butterfly- Bassnectar feat. Mimi Page

I love the feeling of wonder mixed with power in this one. I always feel like I’m being swept away on a magical and colorful adventure when I hear this. I often find myself picking it up when I start a new drawing or stream (or drawing stream lol). Great song for veil, that’s actually how I discovered this song! A gal did a dance to this with isis wings that looked like butterfly wings and it was instant love~

8: Careless Whisper- Seether

Ever since I heard Sexy Saxophone Guy, I was like “Oh... this song will never be sexy~” HAAAAAHAHAHAHA boy was I wrong...

Now look, I’m not the biggest fan of Seether. Sometimes I like him, sometimes I can’t mash the skip button fast enough, but you can pretty much always bet as soon as I hear the intro to this, I’ll be whipping out a chair and going FULL FUCKING DIVA QUEEN MODE. Also great whenever I need to write something... *ahem*... spicy~

9: Opera 2- Vitas

Okay look, I see Vitas getting a loooooooooot of shit cause of the 7th element song thing and they just kind of assume that all that happens when he hits the stage is he bobs around and makes a bunch of noise (which I’m sorry, have you ever tried to get up and make the noises with the pitch and control he does?! -hard cough- /end rant), but Opera 2 is the first song I ever heard of his and you can bet I was COMPLETELY blown away. His voice was so otherworldly to me and spine chillingly clear. I can see why he’s not a lot of people’s tastes, but hoooooooooly shit, I love this song, and I wish more people knew about it and knew how incredibly talented Vitas is. 5 Octaves of range man ._.

10: I Am The Highway- Audioslave

This song... helped me put a lot behind me and be okay. My cousin actually commissioned me to make her a poster based on this song so I’ve been listening to it a looooooooot lately, which I’m totally okay with because despite the things I associate it with, I adore it. It weighs so much heavier with Chris Cornell being gone now... but this song hasn’t been absent from my ipod/iphone for over 10 years...

Tagging: (Feel free to ignore this if you’ve already done it or don’t feel like it or whatever)

@crowryn-arts @amicitonia @prompto-protection-agent @sjokohama

and uh... anyone else who wants to do the thing!

#My current top 10 I guess #seriously this will change by tomorrow even LOL #there's also way more than 10 but whatever xD #sorry for spilling my guts everywhere on some of these #I'll be sure to clean them up on my way out LOL

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ketoconnect · 4 years

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Stuffed Celery

Stuffed Celery | Three Ways!

What I love most about this recipe is that is brings me back to my childhood. And, now that I have a child I can live vicariously through him while enjoying these delicious takes on Stuffed Celery. If you don’t like any of the flavor mash ups presented feel free to make your own and share with us in the comments section below!

Kid Friendly Low Carb Snacks!

Whether you’re an adult or a kid, eating snacks made for kids is always fun. It can be hard getting your children to eat something healthy so why not take a healthy snack and put a yummy twist on it. Here are some great ideas to share with your family:

1. Easy Chicken Fries

2. Low Carb Granola

3. Peanut Butter and Jam Mug Cake

If your kids won’t eat them I’m sure you will hehe. My personal favorite is the low carb granola that can be made in bulk for snacks all week long. It’s also great for topping your favorite low carb yogurt or eating with macadamia nut milk as a cereal replacement!

Pick Your Stuffers

One of the best parts aside from eating the stuffed celery is deciding what to stuff them with! You can gt your kids involved too. The only rule of thumb we use is play around with the textures – you can see that the three we’ve made have a creamy and crunchy combo!

If you want some more ideas try out:

# peanut butter and chopped up berries

# almond butter and bacon (sweet and salty)

# mayo and chicken (a fun twist on chicken salad)

Mix And Match Textures

Mouth feel is everything these days! If it doesn’t taste good and feel good in your mouth what’s the point in eating it?! Okay, i’m joking, but mouth feel is definitely important in my opinion. It is the technical term for the texture of our a food in your mouth and it can play a big role in how we perceive a food or dish!

If you want your kids to eat more veggies and enjoy healthier snacks like these stuffed celery, ensuring good mouth feel can make healthy snacking a positive experience. I know that rings true for me! Sometimes I don’t want to eat the beef liver because, well, it doesn’t taste good, but sauteing it with some onion and bacon to enhance the mouth feel sure helps me get it down!

Stuffed Celery

Not only the perfect after school snack for your kids, but also great for game day or board game night appetizers at home! You can make a little stuffed celery bar with all kinds of spreads and toppings so people can create their own.

More Low Carb Appetizers

Even when football season is over there is reason to get all your friends together and hang out around food! If you need more low carb appetizer options to entertain your high carb friends without them even knowing they are staying low carb, try our:

# French Onion Dip

# Mini Goat Cheese Tarts, or

# Fried Goat Cheese

youtube

#Stuffed Celery #Celery Recipes #Easy Keto Celery Recipes #Keto Recipes #KetoConnect

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quickwrites · 7 years

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Papa Kitty: Kitsitter vs Dinner

“It’ll just be for a couple of hours,” Thace said.

“You’ll both be fine,” Ulaz said.

“No he has completely gotten over his fear from the roaring incident,” Thace assured.

“There is everything you need to make dinner in the fridge,” Ulaz said.

“Just feed him, washing his hands and face and ask him to show you his favorite toys until bedtime,” Thace suggested.

“He’ll go right down after a story,” Ulaz assured.

“It’ll be a nice quiet night,” the both said multiple times on their way out the door.

And yet, here Antok was, having a grudge match with a tiny pink kit as he tried to get him to eat the mash he had made for dinner.

“Come on,” he growled softly, pushing the small bowl and spoon towards Keith. “Your dads said you love sweet roots! It’s delicious.”

“NO,” Keith shouted, pushing the bowl away. “I don’t like it!”

“Yes you do,” Antok said, pushing the bowl forward again as he had for that last twenty doboshes. “They left a note and everything on them!”

“I don’t like it,” Keith screamed, fighting to get out of his chair and kicking his legs violently. “I DON’T LIKE IT! NO NO NO NO!”

Antok laid back his ears, a thin whine that didn’t match his massive frame escaping him. He had known this was a bad idea. Thace and Ulaz’s kit had always not liked him and now he was taking it out on one of his favorite foods. That shrill screaming certainly wasn’t helping as Keith’s face turned red and continued with his protests. There was nothing for it. He needed help and fled into the kitchen for the inter-base communicator.

Kolivan arrived very quickly. He hadn’t been able to hear much of the situation with Keith’s screaming drowning out Antok’s pleads but he had gathered enough when Antok let him in to see the trapped kit having a meltdown in his high chair with a bowl of mash sitting out of reach. What was more alarming was how tiny his kitsitter had made himself in the face of this defeat.

“I can’t make him stop,” Antok said, having to shout over Keith’s wordless screams.

“So I’ve gathered,” Kolivan said, his voice as calm and stoic as always. Walking over to the high chair he released the kit from his restraints and picked him up, holding him against his chest and rubbing his back as he ignored the flailing limbs. Keith quieted and relaxed against him, sniffing and huffing softly as he buried his face into Kolivan’s neck. “Now then,” he said, turning to Antok’s dumbfounded face. “What seems to be the problem?”

“I- He- uh, he won’t eat the sweet roots,” Antok said, gesturing towards the bowl. “Thace and Ulaz said he likes them but he just started screaming that he doesn’t and wouldn’t even try it.”

Kolivan looked critically at the bowl of mash and nodded. “Yes, they had a similar problem the first time,” he said. “My youngest did too when she was a kit. I told them to cut the roots into stars and it works like a dream.”

“Stars,” Antok said, frowning. “What’s the point of making them into a shape? It all tastes the same.”

Kolivan shrugged, picking up the bowl and carrying Keith into the kitchen as he crooked a finger at Antok to follow. “Kits are fickle things, Antok,” he said. “No amount of telling them that its the same thing will change their minds. My middle children could be forced to take a bite and realize I wasn’t lying to them but not the baby. She would bite! But the moment any sort of fun shape was added to her food she would gobble it up and Keith is much the same. Here, take him.” Without waiting for Antok to object, Kolivan set the kit into his arms, adjusting his grip briefly so he wouldn’t drop him. Keith immediately became disgruntled by the change over and put both hands on Antok’s chest to push out, preventing him from holding him close as Kolivan had.

“There- isn’t anymore sweet roots,” Antok said, keeping the hurt out of his voice at Keith’s refusal to cuddle. “To make stars I mean.”

“That’s fine,” Kolivan said, scraping the mash back into the pot Antok had left on the counter. “We’ll just fix this.”

Antok and Keith both watched as the Leader of the Blades of Marmora walked about the kitchen, gathering ingredients and adding them to the pot until a thick porridge formed. Keith cooed suddenly when Kolivan revealed a bag of tiny white ovals in a bad, adding them to a much smaller bowl before ladling the new porridge into the original bowl.

“What is that,” Antok said, quickly shifting his grip as Keith began to squirm in his arms.

“It’s the fun,” Kolivan said, taking both bowls into the dining room. “Put him back in his chair.”

Antok frowned, not understanding at all but following orders as he set the kit into the high chair and strapped him in.

“He’s getting a bit too big for that,” Kolivan noted, as he set the two bowls down in front of Keith and handed him a spoon. “Remind me to have a booster seat ordered for them. He’ll flip the chair in a matter of weeks with his growth.”

Antok made no response as he watched Keith pick up the small bowl in both hands and pouring the ovals into his bowl with a gleeful giggle. As the ovals hit the warm porridge and after a stir colors appeared among the purple roots. Careful not to disturb the kit as he mixed his food and started to eat as he made tiny roaring sounds, the large galra peered more closely. The colors, he saw, were different animal shapes no bigger than the tip of Antok’s claws. They made no logical sense and by any reasoning the sweet root porridge shouldn’t have tasted so different from the mash he had made earlier and yet Keith was eating it all up with enthusiasm.

“I will see you tomorrow on duty, Antok,” Kolivan was saying, walking towards the door.

“Wha- Leader, wait!” Antok said, spinning on the spot as his tail flicked. “You aren’t going to stay?”

“No, I have too much work to do,” Kolivan said, opening the door. “That’s why I refused to watch him in the first place.”

“But- but,” Antok started, going to follow his leader and stopping when he was given a level look.

“You’ll be fine,” Kolivan said. “There is plenty of extra if he wants more. When he says he’s done, take him into the bathroom and wash his hands and face. He’ll fight you a little on the face washing but just let him play in the bubbles and it’ll be fine. Change him into his sleep clothes and let him play for a bit. After that meltdown he’ll probably fall asleep pretty quickly after dinner. Just put him in his bed as soon as he yawns three times in ten dobosh and tell him a story. He’ll be out like a light in no time. If he gets overtired then he’ll have another meltdown. If that happens then just put him in bed and pet his back. If you have any questions send me a message but I won’t be able to come back.”

“But,” Antok started only to have the door close in his face, leaving him alone with the kit.

When Thace and Ulaz returned home later that night they found Antokon the floor with Keith curled up on his chest both of them out cold with toys strewn around them. Ulaz refused to let Thace remove Keith until he got a picture. They put Keith in his little bed, picked up the toys around Antok so he wouldn’t roll over on them before covering him with a blanket and going to bed themselves.

-------

Characters belong to Voltron

Antok gets babysitting duty and has to deal with a tantrum with no help. Thank goodness for Kolivan and his endless dad knowledge. The ovals mentioned in the story are along the same lines as the dino egg oatmeal you can buy. Personally, I hate oatmeal and am about to be 25 and I would totally eat it if I could pretend to be an apex predator taking out a bunch of dinos. Just saying!

#kolivan #blades of marmora #dads of marmora #antok #thace #keith #ulaz #papa kitty #fanfiction #flash fiction #baby keith #baby keef

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big-stupid-jellyfish · 7 years

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man, why is there so much words to say about some stupid kids

part 1, part 2

3,5 words, bnha, still unrated and painfully unedited, kirishima, bakugou, other kids, mortal kombat as plot device, some descriptions of abusive parents, etc

mmmmmaybe it’s time to put this on ao3 or something but fuck no, i am not ready to edit any of this or come up with a name, or figure out the chapters outta this mess, really

There was another videogame night at dormitory.

Tetsutetsu found some worthy competitors among their class, or at least that's what Bakugou got. He knew about this because this time Kirishima invited him. After brief consideration (and a good look at Kirishima's hopeful expression) Bakugou accepted the invitation.

There wasn't any reason for him to get involved into this kind of thing, but at some subconscious level Bakugou understood that a "why the fuck not" was as good reason as any. Social contacts before he moved into the school dormitory were almost exclusively out of necessity, rarely a pleasant business for him, the only satisfaction he got from which was victory - over something, anything. There was something slightly intriguing in how these highly competitive kids that were gathered in U.A. also willingly spent time together.

It was also rare for him to not be in the center of attention. Bakugou didn't like it, his instincts screaming to stand out, to have every pair of eyes on him, to prove he is worthy of the spotlight. He learned to appreciate the good observation point that the sidelines made, and he was making notes on the information he got on other people that couldn't have been obtained from his favorite method of learning, direct confrontation.

He clinged to these points to save himself from realizing that maybe, just a little, this whole thing was kind of fun.

He wasn't even particularly annoyed at occasional case of dumbassery or even presence of Todoroki. The latter seemed to be in similar position to Bakugou, quietly sitting in the chair by himself, observing the group and the game with his freaky cold eyes. For all his declarations of how he wasn't there to make friends, Todoroki was impressively bad at not socializing with his classmates in a friendly manner.

Bakugou kind of hoped he didn't start giving off the same impression of an impossible loser as Todoroki.

After a while, when the game mechanics were more or less absorbed by Bakugou's sharp mind, his thoughts turned to Kirishima, as if gravitating towards him. He seemed truly in his element in the group of his friends, loud and bragging about his skills and victories, but at the same time subtle and filling between the sharp edges of the people here.

Bakugou wondered how much of his classmates' friendliness towards each other was actually Kirishima's doing, and how much they weren't even aware of that. Was Kirishima himself aware of that effect he had on them? Watching how Kirishima calmly talked Tetsutetsu down from fuming at Kaminari who tried to recharge the controller with his quirk without watching his output, absorbing the negative emotions and turning them into smiles and jokes, Bakugou concluded that he knew very well what he was doing.

This felt almost relaxing, to know that personality crashes were being actively smoothed down by someone like Kirishima. Bakugou didn't care about chaos he frequently caused by simply being himself around people - but he found he didn't mind the absence of it.

He tried to distract himself from thinking about his classmate, suddenly uncomfortable for no reason, and turned his attention back to the matches. Currently, Uraraka, under Ashido's guiding, apparently, was kicking Sero's ass. It was somewhat painful to watch.

"Block low, holy shit," Bakugou muttered to himself. Uraraka seemed to deploy the ancient and very effective technique of button mashing, obviously new to the game herself and incapable of performing juggling combos that were hard to break from. Sero just needed to find the block button already.

"He'll get hit with overheads immediately," Todoroki suddenly answered him.

Bakugou didn't mind distractions from thinking about Kirishima, but he minded Todoroki.

"What the fuck do you know? You don't even play," Bakugou glared at him. Those complicated moves of mixed up hits were pure luck on Uraraka's side, and that seemed like a reasonable margin of failure.

"Yeah, you don't play either, Bakugou," Sero grinned to himself. Bakugou noticed he followed the advice, to Uraraka's dismay.

He also noticed Kirishima paying attention to them now, ready to intervene.

Uraraka broke through Sero's defenses with an overhead hit and claimed the victory. For some reason she decided to glare at Bakugou with a frown, as if he was somewhat hindering with her game instead of pointing out the obvious things.

"I think this dispute should be resolved in a friendly match of Mortal Kombat," Kirishima declared, waving at Sero and Uraraka to get up. Next thing Bakugou knew was that he was sitting in Uraraka's place, controller shoved in his hands, and next to him was Todoroki, in the same position with the same puzzled look.

"Watch out your quirks, you jerks," Tetsutetsu said, ever worried for the state of his console and controllers, but much less livid about either Bakugou or Todoroki than ever.

"I never played this kind of game," Todoroki said, slight change of his even tone indicating shyness. He was examining the controller buttons as if this was a snake.

"Mash the buttons, sometimes you'll get it right," Kaminari said, taking place by him, while Kirishima sat on the sofa handle next to Bakugou.

"Before that, basics," Kirishima said. "This part is movement, this part is hits, this is block, like that you grab," he quickly went through the sets of buttons on the controller in Bakugou's hands. "The rest is up to the characters you pick."

Bakugou couldn't care less about actually playing or what character to pick and everything else, but he was pitted against Todoroki of all people - the only worse case scenario would be to be set up against Deku. The concept of backing off ceased to exist.

"I don't give a fuck. This one," he grumbled and pointed at the very first fighter. Some ninja again.

For some reason, this choice was met with giggles.

"Scorpion! Oh my god it fits," Kirishima openly laughed. "He is angry and sets people on fire," he explained under Bakugou's hard look. Unspoken "Just like you" followed.

"Can I pick something fitting as well?" Todoroki played along to the nonsense.

More giggling.

"Yeah, you're looking at your fit," Kirishima was unambiguously enjoying this. "Sub-Zero, freezes people and makes tea."

More giggles. Todoroki looked pleased.

"A fated fight between the rival clans," Kaminari exclaimed dramatically as they went through the boring intro scene and looked through movesets with Kirishima raving about some combos and Tetsutetsu butting in with his own advises. To Bakugou's relief Todoroki seemed to be as confused as him about what was so funny about their fight.

First thrity seconds or so went quite horribly, both boys unfamiliar with controls and not having a slightest clue how the buttons they pressed corresponded to the movements on the screen. It was enough for Bakugou to have a displeased scowl on his face, ready to throw the controller away, but oddly nobody minded them being clunky with the game, cheering on the occasional move being successfully pulled off.

Bakugou wouldn't say he understood the hype over watching a shitty fighting match.

"Button mashing is pretty fucking boring," he said after two rounds. He won the first one, Todoroki won the second one, and it pained Bakugou to look at how gracelessly and ineffectively both did it. He could consider this fun only on two conditions being fulfilled simultaneously: him winning and him being good at winning.

Todoroki seemed to have some complicated emotion about this, as well, but Bakugou was out of patience of guessing what, given that generally Todoroki's expressions were a game of "spot the difference in two completely identical pictures".

"It just takes some practice," Kirishima replied, nonchalant. "Do you mind?" He directed the question at Todoroki, to which he nodded, without needing further explanations, and Kirishima slid off the handle to take place behind the sofa. "With some practice you can pull off something like that," suddenly, Bakugou heard that in his ear as he felt Kirishima's hands on both of his sides, placing them on the controller over Bakugou's.

Kirishima started pressing buttons over Bakugou's fingers and, judging from the hitting noises from the display, that connected, but Bakugou found himself staring at Kirishima instead of the fight. He was close, bangs of the ruffled hair touching Bakugou's face, grin so bright that it was a little blinding in such close proximity. Kirishima looked proud, showing off, and it probably would be for the best to turn and look at what he was showing Bakugou, but he found himself unable to do so.

"Ah! Dropped it," Kirishima exclaimed, face lively with emotions, and pouted for a second. "Thirty five percent, though, not bad!" Another smile full of sharp teeth and some warm emotion Bakugou couldn't name. "Then you can do this," Kirishima said, eyes glued to the screen, still unaware of how little attention the game was getting. Bakugou blinked, unsure how to process what he was feeling.

He wanted to tell Kirishima to knock it off, that he didn't need this patronizing attitude, but he was stuck in this Kirishima-gazing. So many of his thoughts were dedicated to this idiot lately, Bakugou was belatedly realizing, he recognized the tiny shifts of his expressions now, the concentrated frown oh these funnily looking eyebrows, jaw jutted forward as he was pulling off something amazing on the screen - Bakugou wouldn't know, he was too preoccupied with watching Kirishima's feautures relaxing into a victorious smile.

"See? That wasn't that hard," Krisihima pumped his fist in the air and now grinned /at him/, and yeah, how did intruding his personal space become such a problem for Bakugou?

"I see," Bakugou said flatly, feeling his ears burning, betraying his facade, acutely aware of Kirishima's hand gripping his shoulder while the other one was on the controller over his own.

It took him hearing snickering around him to snap out of this weird state, and suddenly he remembered about existence of other people. Todoroki was the first one to resume existing in Bakugou's world, and the bastard pointedly looked at the screen, face perfectly void of any emotions which was an indication good enough that he noticed. Then, Uraraka came into his line of sight, and she was doing that thing with her eyebrows that resembled caterpillars mating.

/Then/ there was Ashido giggling and Tetsutetsu asking what happened, and that was enough.

"This shit is not worth investing time into," he said and got up, hearing a light-hearted "Fair enough" from Kirishima. His heart was pounding with emotions as Bakugou tried to pound them back, risking to explode them all.

Without other words, he left the common area, in sore need of solitude and space to think.

* * *

Kirishima was in this hiding spot again, back pressed hard against the fence. He felt like he couldn't breathe, not with Yaoyorozu's hand on his chest like that, not with Midoriya petrified by his side.

Why couldn't he breathe? He was allowed to do that. He wasn't allowed to be there, to reach out to his classmate in trouble, he was not allowed to fight. He was allowed to breathe.

Kirishima forced a gulp of air into his lungs with a sob, and it didn't help.

There were noises - the fight broke out, and the terrifying presence of this unnamed somebody was diluted with chaos of the battle. Kirishima heard voices - of heroes, concerned, careful, of villains, crazed and unintelligible. The oppressive atmosphere exploded - that was the sound of Bakugou fighting, desperate and furious.

Bakugou was not allowed to fight either, Kirishima thought, but what other choice did he have? What other choice did /they/ have?

Suddenly, Kirishima was lying in a bed, in a room that might have been his. What happened? Was it over? Did they get everyone out? He couldn't breathe again, fist clutching his t-shirt against his chest. He tried to fight this paralyzing helplessness, aware enough to realize that was a dream (another bad one), but did they got everyone out? Was Bakugou okay? If he went and checked Bakugou's room, would he find him there?

Kirishima woke up fully in the exact moment as he banged on Bakugou's door, loud and desperate.

He took a step back, movements still stalled from the sleepiness, almost tripping on the blanket he took with him again, and thought if the situation was still salvageable if he just went to his room, hoping he didn't wake his classmate up.

The door opened, putting an end to Kirishima's cowardly thoughts of retreat as he was faced with Bakugou's displeased expression and the urgent need to find words that would resolve this situation. He didn't find any, not in this short time, so he just stood there, wrapped in his blanket, feeling dumb.

Bakugou scowled and, after a pause, stepped from the doorframe and made an inviting gesture. Surprised, Kirishima followed him inside the room.

In confusion, Kirishima watched Bakugou promptly falling on his bed, not paying the late intruder attention. After some consideration of what to do, still at loss of words, he sat on the floor next to the bed.

"Nightmare again?"

Kirishima startled at the question.

"Bad dream," he corrected Bakugou stubbornly. "Sorry to wake you up," he finally said, rubbing his eyes, and- hell no, they weren't wet, were they?

"I wasn't sleeping."

"Oh."

Kirishima wondered why. The atmosphere in the room was weird, and he wasn't sure if he could attribute that solely to the late hour. He tried to not get too comfy with his blanket, feeling it would've been pretty stupid to fall asleep on the floor. Bakugou was quiet on his bed, silence uncomfortable and thick between them.

This day, Bakugou's parents visited him. Kirishima caught a glimpse of them and overheard everything else too well for his liking. It was somewhat expected for Bakugou have relatives as explosive as him. What Kirishima didn't expect and wasn't prepared for was the sheer animosity he felt from Bakugou's mother towards her own son when she demanded from him to introduce Kirishima to her. Nonchalant smiles on both parents' faces weren't really making up for the harsh words they used.

He played it safe, bowing as deep as he could, speaking as respectfully as he could - and all that got him was a praise from Bakugou's parents at expense of his son.

"So nice to see a boy who knows how to make a good impression," Bakugou's father smiled warmly. "I hope our Katsuki doesn't give you too much trouble to deal with, given his lack of manners."

Bakugou glared at his father with a deep scowl.

"Not at all!" Kirishima waved his hands before him, gesture defensive and calming, even though the adults before him were smiling at him. "It's always good to work in team with Bakugou! He's smart and strong." He smiled sincerily. He hoped it worked.

"Cut the crap, kid, you don't have to flatter him just because he's a loud-mouthed and spoiled brat," Bakugou's mother said, and the words sent chills down Kirishima's spine. What in the world was /wrong/ with these people?

He looked briefly at Bakugou in that moment, asking silently for any kind of hint of what to do. Bakugou's expression was eloquent: it told him to run. Kirishima excused himself, making up a pile of homework he needed to do and retreating to his room.

He hadn't done any homework that day, walls between his and Bakugou's room not too thick to drown all the yelling. It was impossible to make out the words most of the time, though, and in a sense, it was a blessing.

So much for being "good with people".

"What did you see in your bad dream?"

Kirishima snapped out of his thoughts, his mind returning to the room of his classmate he was dozing off in. Bakugou's question caught him off guard.

"I told you already," he said, ruffling his hair. "Just me and the others, hiding and feeling helpless as the others were fighting."

All these thoughts and memories weren't really helpful in dissipating the morose mood. Now, Kirishima thought, he also had a good chance to be laughed at for being such a wuss.

"Why the hell does it bother you so much?"

If Kirishima knew himself, then it wouldn't pose such an issue for him.

He heard Bakugou's frustrated sigh.

"You still went for it, didn't you? All those fucking rules of not involving yourself be damned." Funnily, Bakugou took the lack of response for invitation to explain his question better.

"Yeah, only after Midoriya came up with a working plan," Kirishima shrugged, too caught up in his anxious post-nightmare state to hear the subtle praise in Bakugou's voice. "Before that, I just realized that I dragged my friends into a situation with no idea how to get you out. Everyone was fighting, except us. You were fighting, too," he added, needing Bakugou to know how much difference that made.

The silence that followed was loaded with emotions too heavy to process this deep into the night.

"Why did you come for me?"

Kirishima blinked.

"I couldn't sit there and do nothing while my friend was kidnapped," he muttered, thinking about how instead of that, he got to the place where things were happening and would be doing nothing /there/ if not for Midoriya's plan. "That was worse than... now, I guess." He meant his current dreams of helplessness.

A pause.

"What, no second thoughts about me maybe switching sides?"

At that, hearing the veiled sneer in the question, Kirishima turned to see his classmate. Bakugou was lying on his back, hands under his head, pretendingly relaxed. When he heard Kirsihima moving, he side-eyed him, expression unreadable.

Somehow, this sight helped to read the atmosphere better. This weird feeling of peacefulness in the room was fake. Bakugou seemed calm, emotions muted, no outbursts, no insults.

Except Kirishima saw Bakugou actually maintaining calmness in the midst of his outbursts, like an eye of the storm, successfully harnessing his emotions, reckless just enough to be more efficient. He was skilled in controlling his rage, making it serve him just like he used his explosions to gain him superior mobility. What Kirishima was seeing was Bakugou being subdued, extinguished. Upset even, maybe.

He wondered why Bakugou even let him see him like that.

"Dude, these guys were idiots for thinking that you are villain material. Don't imply that anyone who actually knows you is /this/ stupid," Kirishima tried to keep his tone even to match his words, harsh and true. Now that he realized how unwell Bakugou looked, he wanted to fix that. He guessed that as with everything involving Bakugou, the methods would be unconventional.

Kirishima heard a surprised chuckle, and counted that as a win.

"And really, even if anyone /would/ have these second thoughts, seeing you fight these guys would be enough to smash these thoughts into pieces," Kirishima added for a good measure. He knew that Bakugou was paying attention to his words now, and it seemed fitting to express his admiration for Bakugou's strength in this moment. He felt warmness in his chest as he was saying that.

"Seems like some people are that fucking stupid," Bakugou said, voice finally colored with some emotions.

Kirishima took that piece of information close to heart, examining it.

"Like your parents?" He took the bite, hoping very hard that he made the wrong assumption.

Except that it made sense - Bakugou's parents' attitude, him being uncharacteristically quiet, as if drained, these weird questions, and the most telling of all, silence that followed this reply. Righteous fury flared in him.

"They had teachers' word that I didn't go to them willingly," Bakugou finally said, voice steady with contained anger that Kirishima was familiar with. "Still fucking rubbed it in my eyes like that was necessary."

"No offense, but your parents do sound stupid."

"No shit."

"And they thought I would lie to flatter you!" Kirishima couldn't help mentioning it. He turned to see Bakugou again, to articulate how much that bothered him properly. Bakugou had a strange expression on his face, looking as if he was biting down some mean remark, strangely vulnerable.

"I don't wanna talk about them anymore," he sighed and rubbed his eyes sleepily.

"Okay," Kirishima still sounded indignant, but he dropped the topic, looking straight ahead of him once again.

This time the silence was more comfortable. Kirishima liked the change of the mood, glad - even relieved - to actually do something to mend Bakugou's miserable state, and without tripping the landmines of his classmate's ego, it seemed. It felt important to let Bakugou know that he was willing to help him out whenever he needed, that he could rely on Kirishima.

Before Kirishima could come up with words he desperately wanted to say, unsure of this urgent need to do so, he heard Bakugou's breath calming down. He turned to Bakugou for the third time and saw him fast asleep.

"Yeah, good idea," Kirishima muttered to himself quietly and got up to leave, convincing himself that they could talk like that again later, feeling hopeful, looking forward to it.

#:y #bnha #bakushima #i write stuff

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Marvel Ultimate Alliance 3: The Black Order Review - Superpowered

New Post has been published on https://gamerszone.tn/marvel-ultimate-alliance-3-the-black-order-review-superpowered/

Marvel Ultimate Alliance 3: The Black Order Review - Superpowered

Marvel’s popularity has grown exponentially in the 10 years since Marvel Ultimate Alliance 2 was first released, as forays into shared universes in both film and TV have propelled the company to the forefront of pop culture relevance. Previously obscure characters such as the Guardians of the Galaxy, Captain Marvel, and Black Panther have risen to prominence thanks to appearances in movies, becoming household names, while new characters like Miles Morales, Ms. Marvel, and Spider-Gwen have made their debuts in the vibrant pages of comic books. The stacked roster in Marvel Ultimate Alliance 3: The Black Order reflects the past 10 years of Marvel’s history, assembling a cast of beloved characters, both old and new, that extends its reach into almost every corner of the cosmos. The diversity of Ultimate Alliance’s playable characters has always been the series’ strongest aspect, and that remains true in Ultimate Alliance 3, where our favorite heroes team up for an enjoyable adventure brimming with synergized action.

Much like its predecessors, Ultimate Alliance 3 is an isometric action-RPG, hack-and-slash hybrid featuring four playable characters at any one time that you can switch between on the fly. There are a couple of left-field character inclusions counted amongst its comprehensive roster, like the monster-hunting Elsa Bloodstone and The Inhumans’ Crystal, but it’s an otherwise familiar list of names that features everyone from Hawkeye and Doctor Strange to Iron Man and Thor. Somewhat predictably, the plot revolves around the Infinity Stones after a Guardians of the Galaxy-related mishap scatters them across the Earth and into the hands of the evil-doers in Marvel’s rogues’ gallery.

Thanos and his ruthless Black Order play their part, but the story is less Marvel Cinematic Universe and more Saturday morning cartoon. That works in the game’s favor, and the light-hearted writing and enthusiastic voice acting carry a narrative that does as much as it can with so many characters vying for screen time. There are fun one-liners, and the characters feel true to the ones we know, with their iterations pulling from the MCU, comics, and TV. It also helps that this isn’t simply a rehash of well-trodden ground, despite the presence of many common elements. Instead, Ultimate Alliance 3 tells an original tale that takes some inspiration from 1991’s The Infinity Gauntlet, while also encompassing various aspects of Marvel’s films, comic books, and TV shows to create something of its own.

You only need to glance at the roster to see how Ultimate Alliance 3 pulls from every eclectic branch of the Marvel machine. Costumes and character designs are judiciously plucked from numerous sources–all homogenized by a uniform comic book-inspired art style that’s full of color. The most important thing about these characters, however, is how each of them feels to play. Each hero has light and heavy attacks that can unleash various combos, as well as four super abilities that are gradually unlocked as each character levels up. There’s also a block that negates some damage and a handy roll for dodging out of danger. Simple stuff. What elevates Ultimate Alliance 3’s combat is the variety inherent to each of its heroes and the numerous ways in which they work in tandem. Take someone like Captain America, for example, who’s all about punching enemies in the face and following up with a vibranium shield to the ribs. He plays a lot differently to a ranged character like Star-Lord, who is ideally suited to fighting from a distance with his dual elemental pistols and flight-enabling jet boots. The differences aren’t just restricted to each hero’s choice of weaponry or traversal, either; the Hulk is a lumbering force of nature, Wolverine strikes with quick and agile ferocity, and myriad damage types like piercing, ethereal, fire, and ice differentiate each character even further.

Then there are the abilities that tap into every hero’s spate of superpowers. An energy meter governs how often you can let loose with these snazzy attacks, but Ultimate Alliance 3 is fairly generous about replenishing any lost energy in rapid fashion. This is important because using these abilities with abandon and combining them with others is a ton of fun. The basic light/heavy combat is satisfying on its own. There’s a lot of button mashing, but fights can get pretty hectic when enemy projectiles are bouncing all over the screen, so you still need to be wary of your positioning and be able to avoid danger. Abilities add another layer, letting you blast away a crowd of goons with a wrecking ball comprised of Spider-Man’s webs, spin Mjolnir around in a deadly electrified circle, or mow down anyone unfortunate enough to get in the way of Ghost Rider’s hellfire bike.

Proximity to teammates also allows you to combine certain abilities with others to unleash devastating synergy attacks that amplify their damage output, whether it’s Iron Man reflecting his beam off Captain America’s shield or Deadpool tossing a deluge of grenades as Storm shoots a bolt of lightning out of her fingertips. Dole out enough punishment and you can activate a big Alliance Extreme attack that triggers all four of your character’s synergy attacks at once, filling the screen with a vivid cascade of particle effects, explosions, and ever-increasing damage numbers. The frame rate can take a hit during these moments, but you’re just watching the fireworks at that point, so it isn’t really an issue in gameplay.

The diversity of Ultimate Alliance’s playable characters has always been the series’ strongest aspect, and that remains true in Ultimate Alliance 3, where our favorite heroes team up for an enjoyable adventure brimming with synergized action

The level design is fairly straightforward, funneling you down corridors and into more open areas with little deviation. This does, however, lend itself to a sense of forward momentum as you’re constantly encountering new foes to fight. The only thing that slows it down are some terribly dull puzzles that are fortunately few and far between, revolving around pressing levers and pushing boxes, and a camera that has a tendency to get stuck behind objects or jitter up and down when not completely stuck. This is an occasional problem during combat when you’re momentarily blind to enemy attacks, but it can be an annoyance when simply traversing as well.

It’s a shame you can’t just forget the camera is even there because each level takes place in a new location and the environments on show are fantastically varied. Dimension-hopping allows the action to venture away from Earth and into some of Marvel’s more outlandish settings as you barrel towards the end credits, and Ultimate Alliance 3 makes good use of the sheer number of enemy factions that exist in the Marvel universe. Within the first couple of hours you’ll brawl your way through The Raft and tangle with Spider-Man’s nemeses before joining Daredevil and Iron Fist in a battle against The Hand’s ninja army. This makes for a disparate mix of enemy types and aesthetics that keeps each level feeling fresh, and the same can be said of the plethora of boss fights you regularly encounter, too.

Facing off against the likes of Green Goblin, Dormammu, and Ultron can be quite challenging by yourself on the default difficulty level. Fortunately, there’s a surprising amount of depth when it comes to upgrading each hero. Aside from accumulating XP to unlock more abilities, you can also spend currency to enhance each of their powers, reducing the energy cost or improving their potency. There’s also a sprawling hexagonal skill tree that allows you to purchase stat increases that are applied to every hero on the roster, whether you’re improving their strength, vitality, and resilience or unlocking various offensive and defensive buffs. Meanwhile, ISO-8 crystals give you the opportunity to apply additional bonuses to specific heroes. It’s minute stuff like increasing health or decreasing damage under certain conditions, but it makes a difference and gives you a degree of customization that can be used to turn the tide of battle–and that’s without even mentioning the importance of your chosen team’s makeup.

Picking heroes that work well together applies various team bonuses that can further enhance their stats. This is based on tangibles like their team affiliation, intelligence, agility, and so on. You could assemble a team of the original Avengers, the X-Men, Defenders, or Midnight Sons and see an increase in particular stats that will also take into account whether any of the heroes have shared traits like “wisecracking warrior” or “anti-hero.” Maybe you want to compile a team of web-slingers, Marvel royalty, or one that encompasses the women of Marvel. You have the opportunity to recreate canon teams or mix and match to create your own based on which bonuses are applied and how they can benefit you.

The only problem with all of this is that heroes only level up when you use them. Increases in strength, vitality and other similar skills are applied to everyone, but as you reach the latter half of the campaign, the lack of abilities, their upgrades, and the capability to equip multiple ISO-8s is keenly felt in your lower-level heroes, which means you end up neglecting most of the roster because they just aren’t powerful enough. The workaround for this comes in the shape of XP boosts you can discover within levels and by completing optional Infinity Rifts that task you with repeating modified boss fights and challenges to earn different rewards. Getting enough XP boosts can be a long, grindy process, though, and that’s just to get enough to significantly level up a single character. The diversity of Ultimate Alliance 3’s roster is one of its core pillars, so feeling restricted to only using a few heroes during its final hours is a glaring disappointment.

After spending some time with Ultimate Alliance 3’s online co-op, it’s clear that while the server performance isn’t perfect, it also isn’t too bad. There’s some occasional lag that only affects the appearance of other players in your party, causing them to slightly jitter when moving around. Other than being a minor eyesore, this doesn’t impact the gameplay in any way. Playing with fewer than four people is less than ideal, however, as the host is the only one with the ability to change heroes on the fly. Everyone else is locked into their pick, although this is somewhat rectified by the plentiful amount of S.H.I.E.L.D. stations found within each level that allow you to swap characters in and out. Beyond this, playing more of Ultimate Alliance 3 in co-op emphasizes the game’s replayability and the sheer enjoyment derived from using its assortment of heroes. Going back and replaying parts of the campaign gives you the opportunity to use characters you previously neglected, making it easy to fall into a groove that’ll have you eager to reach the end credits for a second time.

More so than its predecessors, Marvel Ultimate Alliance 3: The Black Order excels because of its character diversity and the ways its disparate heroes work together. For this reason alone it’s an ideal co-op game, whether you’re playing with another friend in the same room or with three friends online, but the AI more than holds its own if you’re playing alone, too. It falters in places, but there’s still nothing quite like the Ultimate Alliance series, and this long-awaited third entry makes it a triumphant return for a superhero brawler that feels more relevant than ever.

Source : Gamesport

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