#<- OVER TWO WEEKS LATE I FORGOT TO ADD MY ART TAG

[radioroxx]

365 slutty slutty days. of time louping

[murkycran]

Radiostatic/Voxal Fic Rec List

Welcome to my Radiostatic/Voxal Fic Rec List! ^_^ This will include romantic, platonic, and/or queerplatonic Radiostatic fics (and admittedly probably a couple of Radiosilence fics, too).

I will keep updating this periodically as I read more fics, so feel free to check back every once and a while! I'll reblog it when I update it, plus make a note with the date at the top. Trust me, this is by no means a complete list; there's fics I still want to add to this that I just haven't gotten to yet. I just decided to go ahead and post it anyways, because if I kept waiting until I ran out of fics to rec I'd probably be working on this forever.

These are not in any particular order; I'm going by both my Bookmarks list on AO3 and my memory of fics I forgot to bookmark. I also tried to make notes on what fics were written before season 1 released, but I might have missed some, so keep that in mind.

Please let me know if any links don't work or are wrong!

✨Before you proceed:✨ read the tags on these fics if you decide to read them. Many of them have heavy material - no surprise given the fandom, but still, felt like this needed said. On that note, there's also fics with explicit material and some fics are straight up PWP. Again, read at your own risk/heed the tags.

Fic Rec List Masterpost

Staticmoth Fic Rec List

Misc. Vox Fic Rec List

------

Radio Healed the Video Star by Aspiring_Forest_Witch

Summary: Alastor comes across an unconscious and battered Vox while out on one of his strolls. He feels compelled to bring him back to the hotel.

Notes: 98% of this fic was written before season 1 was released, so keep that in mind, because there's obviously going to be inconsistencies with canon. It's nearly finished (at least according to the author's notes in the latest chapters, I think). I suggest pacing yourself with this one - it's nearly 700k words long. I ruined a good sleep schedule staying up to get through it. (So worth it though.) There are quite a few OCs in later chapters, but they're such good OCs. You fall in love with them just as much as the canon characters, I swear. I would die for Verity and the Trio.

Let's Misbehave by joosymango

Summary: Alastor wins a bet against Vox, now his rival must stop pestering him for two weeks. It should be a pleasant break! So why does he miss the idiot?

Notes: Vaguely inspired by Aspiring_Forest_Witch's Radio Healed the Video Star. Also largely written before season 1 release. First fic I read for the HH fandom. ^_^

Safe with Me Series by rillo (rillyrillo)

Summary: Having only ever set his sights on men who treat women with odious disrespect, Alastor never thought he'd take interest in Vox's turbulent relationship with his fiancé and business partner, Valentino. He decides to lend a helping hand in the hopes of getting Vox out of his sticky situation. After all, what are childhood enemies for?

Unfortunately, neither Alastor nor Vox could've predicted the rollercoaster of unsaid emotions and future horrors that are thrown their way. Will they be able to rely on each other and get by unscathed? Or will destiny have other plans for these two?

[HUMAN AU] [There's art included for the human designs]

Notes: It's so, so good. ;-; Heed the tags. There's a prequel consisting of oneshots, plus a sequel (listed below, bc I can't not put it here)! And there's ART! So much art!

You, My Everything by rillo (rillyrillo)

Summary: Some say that love can conquer all, even in Hell.

Vox begged to differ, and he was damn well sure Alastor did too – or at least he would be, if Alastor hadn’t become one big question mark.

Sequel to Safe with Me.

Notes: Only read if you've read Safe With Me!!! Still pretty early in the story but so good. ;-; The angst, I swear...

You're on the Air by rillo (rillyrillo)

Summary: A series of short, daily conversations between a radio host and his avid listener, as the two learn more about each other’s lives over the air. Set in the late 90s/early 2000s.

Notes: Same author as Safe with Me, but not set in the same universe! This one is set up in a literal radio show format; almost entirely dialogue-centric.

Of Candied Pine and Cherried Smoke by rillo (rillyrillo)

Summary: Inspired by x_Arcticfox_x’s fanfiction: Blue Raspberries And Cherry Cola

After overdosing on them one too many times to curb the steadily weakening suppressants, Vox's body rejects them outright. Now with his scent getting stronger, he finds himself struggling to hide his true status as an Omega. In his desperation, he seeks help from the one person that knows his secret: Alastor.

Notes: Omegaverse. Same author as Safe with Me series and You're on the Air!

Blue Raspberries And Cherry Cola by x_Arcticfox_x

Summary: Vox is an omega, that's his biggest secret.

During his life time he hid this fact using suppressants, and counited to in death. One day he runs out of pills and his supplier is out of stock for the time being so Vox is forced to submit to the torture of going through heat for the first time in decades.

Too bad his business partner only see's omega's as mere object's...

But hey, at least Angel found him just in time, right?

Notes: Omegaverse. Currently on hold, but has 14 chapters currently available for reading. :)

Once Bitten, Twice Shy by The_Penny_Tails

Summary: Alastor decides that it's time to claim what is rightfully his, consequences be damned.

Notes: It's not porn but it might as well have been for how fucking intense this scene was. 😳

Dripping Pink by The_Penny_Tails

Summary: Just before an Overlord meeting, Alastor gets infected by an off-market, highly potent, and incredibly dangerous love potion. Nobody realises until it's too late.

Notes: Simultaneously funny as fuck and erotic as all hell. I suffered from so much secondhand embarrassment on Vox's behalf. It's wonderful. :D

Lucidity's Fog by The_Penny_Tails

Summary: Ever since he met Alastor, Vox has been having raunchy dreams about the deer. Those dreams suddenly stop when Alastor disappears. For seven years, he's free of the guilt, of the shame brought on by his unconscious desire.

Until Alastor comes back, and Vox is plagued by a new dream the same day he finds out about the news. This time, however, something is distinctively different about how the deer is acting.

Notes: Author tagged for light angst, but ngl the ending did not feel like 'light' angst to me lol. Hurt in a good way.

Finger Tips and Dotted Lips by The_Penny_Tails

Summary: Alastor has sensitive hands; he finds this out at the most inconvenient time possible. Unfortunately, Vox is the one who ends up paying the price for it.

Having to help a seemingly broken Overlord whilst navigating this new discovery proves to be a little more taxing than the Radio Demon could ever have imagined.

Notes: Alastor is such a troll in this omg.

Thawing Out by Seaside_Dreaming

Summary: Seeing a small crack in Vox's screen nags at Alastor more than he likes to admit.

Vox wishes things were better. Sooner or later, Alastor has to come to terms with the fact he has feelings, in general.

Notes: Written before season 1 release. HIGHLY suggest reading the prequel one-shot. It's not necessary to understand the plot here, but you should read it anyway.

Static by passthevoxcord

Summary: Vox creates a new and improved version of himself to please Val, only to be replaced by it. He is left beaten and broken with no one to turn to . . . except maybe his oldest enemy, Alastor.

Notes: Written before season 1 release.

Hating you feels so good by TwoBitJester

Summary: Vox obsesses over his returned enemy and finds himself a little too wound up

Notes: Very good PWP.

Laced Over Dinner by hazbinhearts

Summary: Vox is persuaded to dress a little differently over dinner for Alastor, but finds it remarkably uncomfortable as the night goes on. Written for VoxWeek21 Day 3: dressing up [appearance, formal, dance].

Notes: Written before season 1 release. Corsets. 😳

Observer by DeviousPossum

Summary: He moved the cursor to click off, when he suddenly heard a very recognizable static laced tone.

Alastor.

Alastor.

What the fuck. Alastor is singing.

Vox unintentionally ran claw marks across his desk, an increasingly common habit for him as of late. He grimaced at his now ruined table and unsuccessfully tried to reel in an inexplicable feeling that could only be described as jealousy.

Notes: Porn with a tiny bit of plot in the first chapter. :3

RadioTV Week 2021 Series by Heliosolar

Summary: Pretty much the title; various prompts.

Notes: Written before season 1 release. All worth reading, though they aren't connected.

Sharkblocking by Anonymous

Summary: Alastor is Vox’s number one rival. Incidentally, though nobody involved is aware of it, Alastor’s number one rival is actually Vox’s pet shark.

In which Alastor is actually a little obsessed back and Vark is the biggest obstacle to Radiostatic short of canon itself.

Notes: VARK!

Control + V by TooManyPsuedonyms

Summary: Vox and Alastor have a... thing. Not quite a relationship, but something. Vox is too scared to define it properly, and Alastor is dead set that Vox will eventually get bored of his lack of reciprocity and move on.

So, Valentino tries to show Vox what he is missing.

... too bad Vox didn't want him like that. ... too bad Alastor didn't know want is a vague word.

Notes: Heed the tags!!! There's currently a sequel; I haven't read it yet, but I definitely plan to. 👀

gift of the magi by vol_ctrl

Summary: "... Although husband and wife are now left with gifts that neither one can use, they realize how far they are willing to go to show their love for each other, and how priceless their love really is ..."

Alastor/Vox established relationship fluff.

Notes: Written before season 1 release. Very sweet. ^_^

the lost tape by vol_ctrl

Summary: There's a NEW ambitious media demon in Pentagram City. You never get a second chance to make a first impression, right?

Notes: Written before season 1 release.

12 Days of Yuletide by vol_ctrl

Summary: A parody of the 12 Days of Christmas traditional tune, as can only be done by Vox gifting to his beloved adversary.

Or, a series of letters from the desk of Alastor upon receiving a series of increasingly elaborate gifts from his insufferably modern foil during the holiday season.

Notes: Written before season 1 release.

Fear makes the heart grow fonder by Graysongirl

Summary: After a bit of inspiration from an unlikely source Vox comes up with the plan that scaring Alastor is the best route to gaining his affections. The haunted house at LuLu World seems like the perfect (safe) environment for a bit of pre-planned scaring...

[Stand-alone staticradio]

Notes: Written before season 1 release. Funny af. "Red! Red!" XD

Cordyceps, King of Ants by spappest

Summary: Vox is tired. Of Valentino. Of Velvette. Of Alastor, and Hell, and everything in between. He can't escape, but he can cut himself off, piece by piece, until he feels nothing at all. Alastor takes exception to this approach and commissions a certain princess of Hell to fix his foe. Now Vox has a hotel of misfits on one side of him, overlords on the other, and Alastor crushing his cage ever smaller.

Clearly, the only way Vox will get any peace and quiet is to just kill God.

Valentino did always tell him that he had no chill.

Notes: Started before season 1 was released. Technically features Staticmoth but it's not the focus as much as Radiostatic (which honestly has a relationship status of ??? not romantic but also not friendship or even strictly enemies...just...Alastor and Vox). O_O I think about this fic on a daily basis.

Russian Roulette by spappest

Summary: Vox and Alastor play a game that Vox is way too excited to lose.

Notes: Started before season 1 release. Take note!!! I'm putting this on the Radiostatic list because it's almost entirely centered on Alastor and Vox's dynamic, but the romantic relationship is Staticmoth. The Staticmoth is just not featured very much.

Vox and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Afterlife by spappest

Summary: Alastor goes into rut.

Vox has a bad time. Then a good time. Then a very bad time. Then a brief vacation. Then a confusing time.

Notes: Background Staticmoth, but Radiostatic is most prominent. Funny af. Alastor and Vox have...a very special relationship. Lol.

Killer Ex by FanGirl48

Summary: Alastor was a serial killer who valued his privacy. So when someone who claims to know what he is tries to barge into his life he can't let them live, his secret must be protected at all cost.

A normally easy task easy task becomes complicated when Alastor's ex-boyfriend is dragged into the whole thing forcing the serial killer to go visit them for the first time in seven years.

Notes: Human AU. Love me some possessive Alastor. <3

Negotiations by FanGirl48

Summary: Vox had no interest in attending a meeting between Heaven and Hell following the failed attack by the Adam and his Exterminators. Alastor's little gremlin caused the mess, so he can go clean it up. Vox had nothing wanted nothing to do with the radio demon, king of hell or heaven.

But that was before Lucifer made the media overlord aware of Valentino's little job offer to his daughter.

Damnit Valentino!

Notes: "And they were roommates!" "Oh my god they were roommates"

Down, Up, and Back Down by CowboyEnthusiast

Summary: Vox dies. Surprisingly no one takes this well.

Or, Vox dies and Alastor tries to drag his soul back from Purgatory.

Notes: Another fic I think about daily... Heavy themes. Heed the tags.

Hold Me Like a Grudge by Rachello344

Summary: Alastor has spent a long time running from Vox. Vox has chased after him almost as long. When suppressants fail throughout the city, they finally collide.

Notes: Omegaverse. Fun fact about this author: all their Radiostatic fic titles are from Fall Out Boy lyrics lol. (I fucking love FOB sue me.) I haven't yet read all of Rachello344's Radiostatic fics, BUT I have them all on my To Read list because I've loved everything I've read of theirs so far lol.

What Makes You So Special? by Rachello344

Summary: With Lucifer’s return to the Pride Ring, the other Deadly Sins were bound to take notice. When Asmodeus stops by the Pride Ring to visit the Morningstars, the Vees are able to make a deal to host a pop-up shop of the incredibly popular Lust Ring establishment, Ozzie’s, bringing it to the Pride Ring for the first time.

When Vox and Alastor both attend the restaurant’s opening night, long repressed sparks fly, forever changing their relationship.

Notes: Because of the pacing of this (sex first romance later), I feel like this is the Radiostatic equivalent of Femalefonzie's Freak-A-Zoid (a really good Staticmoth fic). This is hands down one of the most romantic Radiostatic fics I've read. ^_^

Hold Me Tight (or Don't) by Rachello344

Summary: Alastor and Vox finally come to an understanding, both of each other and of what they each mean to the other. Their relationship evolves accordingly, one concession at a time, until they both get everything they could possibly want: power, companionship, and even love.

Notes: So, so good.

Keep You Like an Oath by Rachello344

Summary: Alastor normally wouldn’t bother with the chore—breaking into V Tower was quite a lot of work, even for him—but he found himself curious about what Vox and his little friends might be working on. Especially since whatever it was had Angel concerned enough to report back to the rest of the hotel about it.

Of course, before he can learn anything, he’ll need to sneak past Vox’s watchful eye…

Notes: God it's just...so good. Read it. Radiostatic reconciliation. One thing I love about Rachello344 writing Radiostatic is Alastor's terms of endearment for Vox. ^_^

To Be Yours by pinegreenapples

Summary: Alastor hears something he hasn't heard in years. He decides to investigate why now, of all times, this frequency has turned back on. Vox is not amused.

Notes: Hurt no comfort. Hurts so good, though. ;-;

oleanders in june by spoondrifts

Summary: It seems like while Alastor was off preying on the self-destructive addictions of desperate sinners, Vox was off getting himself beaten half to death, probably from spouting belligerent nonsense at someone with violent tendencies and a far lower threshold for disrespect than Alastor. Not everyone finds poor Vox’s chatter as charming as he does.

If Vox is unconscious, then Vox is not being entertaining, and Alastor came here to have fun, not play nursemaid.

Or: Drunk on power and itching to cause some mayhem, Alastor hunts down the only person in the city who's always up for anything. Unfortunately, he finds Vox... not exactly in tip-top shape. No matter; he can work with that too.

Notes: ^_^ Very sweet.

equilibrium by curtailed

Summary: Post-Finale. The Hotel finds Alastor right on the front lawn, unconscious and bleeding, still injured from Adam's blade. While he recovers, all of Hell scrambles to find out who his mysterious rescuer is.

Meanwhile, Vox tries not to freak out that he might have accidentally made a soul bond to save that deer asshole's life. All he had wanted to do was to scope out the ruins of Alastor's radio tower. Fuck him for being curious, he supposed.

Notes: This fic has me in a CHOKEHOLD. I love the characterizations so, so much. Manages to fit in humor alongside the angst. One of the best fight scenes I've ever seen put into words. Curtailed really took Vox and Alastor as characters and planned out a cool fucking fight scene using their unique abilities. I automatically love anything tagged with "one fell first but the other fell harder" lol.

candlelight by curtailed

Summary: Despite the #SirRepentious success, Heaven remains skeptical of a sinner's ability to change. Logic gets lost somewhere, and really, what's a better way to show sinners can be marginally less horrible than to stick two Overlords who hate each other in the same living space?

OR

Alastor and Vox play house.

Notes: The comedy of Alastor and Vox being forced to be civil with each other and then unintentionally becoming very domestic together. Lol

wallow by curtailed

Summary: A 2+1 fic. Two times when Alastor and Vox were in a love triangle (hard quote on love, hard quote on triangle), and the one time Alastor had Vox to himself.

Notes: Only 1 (very good) chapter so far, but safe to say pretty heavy already. Heed the tags.

Addicted by Dancingdog

Summary: After the latest argument with Valentino, Vox finds himself at the Hazbin Hotel. An injured Alastor is less-than-pleased to see him, which is understandable considering they are enemies.

But as more and more of Valentino's venom leaves his system, Vox begins to remember his days before V-Tower and he learns exactly why Alastor rejected his offer all those decades ago.

His memories return in fits and spurts - not all of them good. His past with Alastor isn't something he expected and it turns out that he isn't the only one suffering.

Notes: Dude. This fic hurt me. Such good angst.

Radio Made the Video Star Series by songofhell

Summary: Snippets of Vox and Alastor's afterlife, and their journey from strangers to friends to enemies to... something more.

Notes: Pretty much what the series summary says - a series of installments that chronicle the beginning and subsequent evolution of Alastor and Vox's relationship. Very good, has tons of possessive!Alastor, which I die for.

Uneasy by Saezs

Summary: “Something’s wrong with Voxy.”

Velvette’s eyes snapped to the tall moth pimp. “And?” she prompted with a raised eyebrow. As if she needed to deal with two piss babies this close to a show. Valentino shrugged, tapping away on his phone, and walked away to stand threateningly close to her new models. Before she could snap at him, she saw it; his wings were twitching. Barely noticeable to strangers, just under the hum of the building’s lights, he was squeaking with each tap of his fingers. She felt unease and a healthy dose of aggravation swirl in her stomach.

Or: Vox was roofied and sexually assaulted. Velvette tries to be better than her mother. Unexpected connections are formed.

Notes: Heed the tags! Features genderfluid Vox. :)

Five Times Vox and Alastor Danced and One Time They Didn't by Drowsy_Salamander

Summary: “I say, good fellow, what are you doing on the ground like that?”

The voice was perky, cheerful, and bright. It had a crisp mid-Atlantic accent, the kind Vox remembered being all the rage for stage and film performers back when he first entered the broadcast industry. The diction was crystal clear with every sound enunciated separately to maximise clarity, the consonants clicked and the vowels were broad. It was a performer’s voice.

A voice for radio.

Oh shit.

... Five times Vox and Alastor danced and one time Vox and Alastor didn't.

From their first meeting through their friendship, to their enmity and fighting. From infatuation to yearning to animosity. Dancing is a partnership, is it not?

Notes: Each chapter so far has been a different type of dance, which is really neat. Especially chapter 2. ^_^ That said, there's a feeling of impending doom, knowing what happens to their relationship eventually... Not saying that as a deterrent but just a comment on how I felt while reading it lol. It's very sweet, which is why it hurts to think of future chapters. 🙃

Days Long Past by Momo52

Summary: All sinners of hell bore some physical marks of how they lived and died. Some physical manifestations were more obvious while others were subtle. Vox was not an exception to this rule.

While his television head was an obvious indication of his life while on Earth, the mark he bore from his death was far more subdued. Luckily enough, his shame was easily concealed behind a high collar. Unfortunately, he is just as well known in his afterlife as he was in his life. As such, trying to make everyone believe that he is so much stronger than what his death implies is a constant battle. He only wished that he wasn’t the hardest one to convince.

Notes: I think platonic Radiostatic is the endgame here. Still pretty early in the story, but I'm really liking this author's depiction of Vox and Alastor's pasts. Heed the tags. There are heavy subjects such as suicide (very big theme for Vox's pov) and period-typical racism (in Alastor's past) present in the story.

Remote Access by x-UsoTsuki-x (its_not_reael)

Summary: In the aftermath of Alastor and Vox's electrifying on-air showdown, Vox finds himself unusually rattled. His usual suave demeanor is slipping, much to his cohorts' amusement – and concern. Velvet can do little more than roll her eyes at his antics. Valentino, on the other hand, is convinced that all Vox needs to do is get fucked and relax.

or, alternatively...

The tech-savvy overlord manages to snag a virus from a porn site and finds himself in the arms of his worst enemy.

Notes: Fairly certain this is firmly Radiosilence based on the tags (and the direction of the story so far). Very funny, very hot. Vox is pathetic in this one. Lol

Nun-thing Like You've Ever Seen Series by A_Cypress_Coffin

Summary: Alastor, the feared radio demon with more blood on his hands than most of hell combined, wasn't always as we imagine him. There was a time where instead of a dapper suit and smile he donned a simple vow and habit. That didn't last of course, but the journey is quite something.

Notes: This author has a great sense of humor, lmao. I enjoyed the unique headcanons for Alastor's backstory. The tag that hooked me: "Accidentally becoming a better person through bad domming and found family".

Empathia by The_Oblivious_Swallow

Summary: Creating new technology is boring, sex is physically unappealing, the other Vee’s are so annoying, annoying, annoying! Even Vark, his baby, his pride and joy, doesn’t stir the same joy in his heart like he should.

So, Vox had concluded that it had to go. For his sake.

Notes: Contains Staticmoth, but Radiostatic seems like the endgame (I write this as there is one chapter still left). Really interesting idea. I love Vox.exe so much. ;-;

Every Madman Has His Vice by phantasm_png (chibellero)

Summary: “What the fuck do you want, Alastor? Was it not enough to kill me all those years ago? Now, you had to go for the people I loved and the only things I had left in this fucking Hellhole?”

“It was my fault,” Alastor whispers as he approaches Vox slowly, as if he was some sort of wounded animal he didn’t want to scare off. His prey. “Vox, I’m sorry. If I had a chance to redo that night, I would never have hurt you to this extent. I’ll never harm you again.”

“That’s seven years too fucking late, Alastor.”

OR: Seven years ago, instead of Alastor disappearing, it was Vox who left instead.

Notes: I’m so fucking here for this AU. Possessive Alastor, Vox helping with the hotel, Husk is still an Overlord, yessss

Metathesiophobia (Fear of Change) by phantasm_png (chibellero)

Summary: There's a lot that can change in seven years.

But never once had Alastor expected for something like this from his old rival and older friend.

Or, Alastor and Vox start to rekindle their old friendship again after a shocking discovery strikes the deer demon.

Notes: QPR Radiostatic with MtF Vox! Contains a smidge of Staticmoth, but it's in the background and not the focus. Very well written.

surimi and venison by phantasm_png (chibellero)

Summary: A series of short drabbles (500+ words) in an interconnected universe (peep the tags, they're still in hell), centering around Alastor and his new pet fish... shark... television thing. Will (hopefully) update 1-2 times a week. Written as my attempt at a Mermay series.

Notes: Like the summary says, Mermay prompts featuring SharkHybrid!Vox, along with Alastor, who literally saw Vox and decided to make him his pet. Lol.

an arm and a leg, my dear, les yeux d'la tête by phantasm_png (chibellero)

Summary: “I mean, usually when Val gets mad he gets like, super pissy too an’ starts destroyin’ shit ‘round the set and in his clubs, but like, usually Vox can calm him down. Problem is, where the Hell is that guy? I haven’t seen ‘im round the Tower for like, a month or two now. That ain’t normal.”

“What, so you mean he just up and left?”

“No, but like… he hasn’t been seen ‘in public’ for like, two months now. It’s startin’ to get suspicious. Like, I ‘unno if I’m just paranoid or something, but… Vox is like, the fuckin’ face of Hell’s Entertainment District. When he’s not round for a bit, that’s nothing to worry about on its own… but when he’s not round for a bit an’ Val and Velvette are creeping around, looking for his rival…? I mean… the dots are connecting. If Al did something…”

“If Vox was dead, we would know.” OR: Two months ago, Vox went missing. Right now, it seems as if Alastor has something to hide.

Notes: Vox gets attic-wifed and wears a virgin killer sweater. ^_^

we'll go down together in the ashes of our love by phantasm_png (chibellero)

Summary: Glimpses into the Radio Demon's life as he reluctantly navigates parenthood with his co-parenting partner and the demon princess hoisted onto him by the King and Queen of Hell.

Loosely inspired by Spy X Family.

Notes: CUTE! I love domestic Radiostatic.

What Has Been by Tianren

Summary: Vox has never known peace. From being the son of a egocentric cult leader, to being the boyfriend of a self absorbed abuser. Vox has managed to build a pretty sad life for himself. The only spot of sunshine that had ever blessed his existence was when he met an amateur true crime investigative journalist, with a podcast named, Alastor. The man was his only source of unfiltered news and contact to the world outside his father’s compound. But after Vox finally escaped the cult he waited for Alastor. Waited weeks in their assigned meeting spot just to be forgotten. Vox was convinced he’d stopped waiting for Alastor years ago until he meets the man again seven years later at a hotel. What will reconnecting with his past lead to and will it help him escape the hell he’s built for himself?

Takes place in the late 2000s early 2010s

Trigger warning for religious trauma and abuse as major themes of this story. Will add more warnings if they arise as I go on.

Notes: Really interesting human AU concept!

(Fic rec list to be continued)

[dontforgetyourmedstoday]

So you just steal artwork and don't care? Got it. Either that or my ask asking about sources from your posts on April 8th disappeared. Or I guess you could be off tumblr and not have been here for two weeks.

Hi Anon,

I'm assuming this is you:

If it is, yes, I did see your last ask - but life has been a bit shit lately and frankly, I didn't have the emotional bandwidth to deal with an accusatory email that gave me absolutely no details about what you were upset about so I could investigate. So today, despite it being an incredibly long and shit one that isn't over I'm going to reply.

*Takes a deep breath* From this point forward I'm going to assume that, like me, you are just a real-live human with feelings that get hurt and not someone who just likes to yell at people on the internet. So let me apologise that I have used your artwork without attribution, it was in no way my intention. Please take this apology as someone who was just trying to amuse themselves and perhaps help some other people out by reminding them to take their meds too. I absolutely suck at art-type things so in my mind, no one would think I did them or was claiming the actual 'art' part of them as mine. I realise now this is the internet, you guys don't know me, and so I should have been clearer that nearly all of these are edits. (There are a few waaaaay back I actually drew myself). Looking at the 7th, 8th & 9th of April (allowing for time zones and assuming that's when you saw your artwork). All of them except one have a link at the bottom of the image that links back to where I sourced the original image - I don't know if this is visible on mobile so I'll show it below (the bit circled in red)

So I'm assuming this one is yours:

It seems that one doesn't have the link. I don't know why. I haven't made any new reminders for this blog in ages (again - life) - it seems like most of the ones from early April this year were originally posted back in 2021. I got briefly excited about this blog again a few months ago and loaded up a bunch of old ones so this blog was still functional for the people that find it helpful. Going back I have noticed that others seem to not have credit either. It is possible I made a mistake and forgot to add them. It's also possible that Tumblr has a had a glitch/error/weirdness which means it's disappeared. I also used a bunch of images from the editing app I was using to add the reminder message and I wish I could remember what the site was called because I cannot for the life of me remember. Honestly, who knows. I have deleted the post(s) with that image - if it's not the right one please let me know.

I have always gone out of my way to ensure that anything I use is either free use, or non-commercial under Creative Commons. As an aside, I'm an academic and a person who has artist friends and my partner runs a business where our customers are largely designers and artists, so I do actually do my best to give credit. Am I perfect - no I'm not. Part of the reason I stopped making new posts was because of difficulty giving credit even on images that were non-attribution and finding images where I knew what the attribution requirements were (along with trying to remember everything everyone asked me to tag, and doing the image descriptions etc.) If anyone else finds something of theirs in one of my posts and there isn't credit attached please either dm me or send an ask and let me know which post and how you would like to be credited and I'll add it in. If you want it removed, I'm happy to do that too.

Sorry for the long post, hope it helps to clear things up. Finally, let me take this opportunity to say

"Don't forget your meds today my friends"

[imaginedhaven]

Reluctantly Rooming: Part Eight

Link to Masterpost

A prompt-heavy update, to be sure! This one combines three:

“What are you doing?” “Impromptu dance party.” “It’s three in the morning.”

“You’re weird.” “Or maybe you’re just basic.”

and

Person A is cooking breakfast and sets off the smoke alarm waking up Person B who was still asleep

Enjoy!

~*~*~

Aelin grinned as she quietly closed the door behind her and stepped into the living room. She had just finished her first shift at work without that awful boot that had been a part of her life for eight long weeks, and she couldn’t be happier. Yes, her ankle was aching slightly after a long night on her feet, but it was better than she had feared it would be.

Better still, she knew that she had replaced her stash of snacks just the day before, and Rowan wouldn’t have had time to relocate or get rid of them yet with how busy his work had been keeping him.

Heading for the kitchen, she thumbed open her phone and scrolled through her playlists, selecting one with a smile and pressing shuffle. Upbeat music filled the kitchen as she dug through the cabinets, foot tapping with the beat.

A few seconds later she grinned triumphantly and emerged from the cabinet, fingers clutched around one of the bars of chocolate she’d slipped into the groceries. She had just opened it and was about to take her first bite of sweet victory when she heard a rough voice behind her.

“What are you doing?” Gods, Rowan looked awful, dark circles under dull eyes and hair a complete disaster. She hadn’t heard him come down the stairs; perhaps he had fallen asleep at his desk now that she’d given his office back to him.

Regardless, her hips didn’t stop swaying along with the music as she turned to him and smiled. “I’m having an impromptu dance party, obviously.”

“At…” Rowan’s eyes narrowed as he checked the time. “Fuck, three in the morning?”

“I am celebrating my newfound freedom,” she replied seriously.

“You’re going to break your ankle again if you keep stressing it like this, and then where will you be?”

Aelin winked and slid closer to him, still moving to the beat. “I guess I’ll have my big, strong roommate helping me again,” she purred.

Rowan rolled his eyes as she rested her hands on his hips. “You are so weird,” he muttered.

“Mmm, maybe,” Aelin allowed. “Or maybe you’re just basic.”

A single eyebrow lifted on Rowan’s face. “Basic?”

“Yeah, you know. Boring. You have to be aware of the concept, unless you’re an even grumpier and older man than I thought.” It was quite possibly a dangerous thing to say to him, but it was late and she was riding the high of having survived a night without that damned boot. Hopefully he’d understand.

“There’s a difference between being boring and not dancing at three in the morning.”

“Says you,” she grinned. “I bet you don’t even dance when it’s not three in the morning.”

“Of course not,” he replied. “I work when it’s not three in the morning.”

“Seems to me like you were working at three in the morning,” she accused. “I know that’s normal for me, but it can’t be for you.”

“It depends on the work. I’m covering for someone else right now, so I’ve got more on my plate than normal.”

“How long have you been awake?” Aelin asked, suddenly curious.

Rowan frowned. “Long enough to hate everything about this.”

“So, what, twenty minutes?”

He snorted. Gods, he must have been exhausted for her to get an actual laugh out of him. “Try ‘since about this time yesterday’,” he admitted.

“What? No, Rowan, that’s way too long for people who aren’t either in college or working weird shifts. Did you fall asleep at your desk? Because you look like you fell asleep at your desk.” Without even thinking about what she was doing, Aelin ran her fingers through the tangle of his hair to start taming it.

His fingers encircled her wrist, and she stopped and looked at him. “I didn’t fall asleep at my desk.”

Just then, the music playing from her phone switched from something that was merely suggestive to something that was outwardly dirty, and she broke away from him and fumbled with the device, hoping to stop it before he noticed exactly what the lyrics were.

She was obviously unsuccessful, though, for he almost doubled over laughing. “I didn’t realize it was that kind of dance party.”

Gods, she hoped he couldn’t see her blushing. “It wasn’t. The playlist was on shuffle.”

“Aelin, that means you had to have picked that playlist. You’ll have to try harder than that.”

Fuck, but she hated living with a man who analyzed word choice for a living. “I forgot that was on there. And I’m not having this argument with you right now.”

“So when are we having this argument?” he grinned. “I want to be prepared.”

“When you’ve slept, Rowan, for fuck’s sake.” With that she began physically herding him up the stairs. “Come on, go.”

When they reached the doorway to the room he had taken over from Aedion, she leaned against the doorframe with her arms folded against her chest. He moved toward the dresser and opened a drawer, glancing back at her. “Do you mind?”

“No, not at all, as long as you’re getting to sleep,” she replied.

He cleared his throat. “Aelin?”

“Yes?”

“Get out.”

“Oh!” Gods, she had completely misinterpreted what he was saying. “Oh, I’ll, um…”

She shifted away from the door, and before she could figure out what on earth to say to him he had closed the door—surprisingly gently—in her face.

“Um, good night, I guess,” she finally managed.

“Good night, Aelin,” he called through the door.

Well, fuck. With that embarrassment behind her, she turned to her own room to hopefully settle down for the night and not replay that conversation for hours on end.

~*~*~

Aelin woke up earlier than usual the next morning to a silent house.

The silence in itself wasn’t unusual; Rowan was a very quiet housemate even when he was home. A check of her calendar reminded her that it was Saturday, meaning he was likely either on one of his habitual runs through the neighborhood or holed up in his office pretending that working on weekends was a thing that normal people in his position did. Just in case it was the latter, she made sure to keep as quiet as she could while she slipped into a t-shirt dress and crept down the stairs.

The office was silent, the door opening to an empty room, which meant that either he was out running or he was somehow still asleep. A glance at the doorway showed his running shoes tucked exactly where he always left them.

Stunned, Aelin sat on the couch to collect herself. She couldn’t recall a time she’d actually woken up before Rowan; the opposition of their schedules usually meant that he was the early bird and she the night owl. However, this meant she had a chance to enact a plan she’d been idly thinking about for weeks now.

Rowan had done so much for her the past few weeks, picking up the slack in the household chores without once complaining about it and regularly cooking for her as well. She’d wanted to do something in return for so long, and now that her ankle was healed and he wasn’t awake to stop her an idea came to her.

She silently slid into the kitchen, carefully opening cabinet doors until she found a nonstick pan with a quiet noise of triumph. That went on the stovetop, and a small bowl and a whisk were next on her list. Soon those were sitting on the countertop beside the stove, and she was looking up video tutorials on cooking.

She had watched Rowan scramble eggs so many times now. How hard could it possibly be?

The pan went over heat with some oil in it, and then she pulled the eggs out of the refrigerator. He always made two for her, but should he get a third? Would he even want a third?

Aelin realized she was now staring at the carton and didn’t know how long she had been staring at the carton. With a sigh, she shook her head. She’d barely begun and she was already overthinking it. How typical. Two eggs it was.

She cracked them into the bowl, cheering silently when she managed to do it relatively neatly, and soon she had whisked them up into a unified frothy mass of yellow liquid. Perfect. Just like the video, and just like when Rowan did it.

Belatedly, she realized she would need a spatula on hand to stir the eggs, and searched through the drawers until she found one. Then it was time to add the eggs to the pan.

She stifled a yelp as the pan hissed angrily with the addition of the eggs, steam rising hot and fast—or, fuck, was that smoke? She poked at the eggs timidly with the spatula, revealing the already-blackened underside of them in a hissing release of—yes, that was smoke. Fuck. She’d ruined it.

Time seemed to slow almost to a halt as the pan hissed and sizzled before her, pouring out amounts of dark grey smoke that really shouldn’t have been possible for such a small amount of—

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The sound entered her awareness dimly at first, as fixated as she was on the pan in front of her. When it finally registered, though, she yelped and tossed the pan at the sink, hoping that would stop everything from getting even worse. It landed with a clatter, but even that couldn’t outdo the piercing shriek of the smoke detector. Fuck, it would wake Rowan up, she had to figure out how to stop it.

She dragged a chair over from their little dining nook and clambered on top of it, frantically waving underneath it to clear whatever little sensor had gotten overloaded. The air was slowly clearing, and she was just starting to hope that she might actually succeed in this futile venture until she heard the sound of running feet and a shout from the stairway. “Aelin!”

Shit. She was in deep and unending shit, with no way to talk her way out of it.

~*~*~

Tagging:

@ireallyshouldsleeprn @queen-of-glass @fangirlprincess09 @sassys-world @morganofthewildfire @superspiritfestival @perseusannabeth @sis-it-dont-add-up @jlinez @julemmaes @emilyoftheshadows @thegoddessofyou @mymultiversee @swankii-art-teacher @rowansfirebringer @rabodocardan

[aspenflower17]

Finding You (Part Fifteen of ??)

Goodness gracious, I’m back, and excited to be here. I just had the weirdest two weeks, so I apologize about not updating last week. Luckily, I just stayed home today and was able to write most of this chapter. Here is a link for anyone who’s new and wants to start over at the beginning: Part One.

A couple notes: I totally forgot I wanted to add a dream sequence to part fourteen, so I added it first thing in this update. It is a rewrite of part of Satan’s “The Search of Self” Devilgram so there might be some spoilers. I also missed you all so much! Honestly, I’ve been feeling kinda down lately and haven’t even had much motivation to play Obey Me (or do much of anything), so being able to hang out on Tumblr today and see all the posts has helped me get some of my inspiration back! I also bought a Chromebook and I'm still getting used to it. If the formatting goes weird, please let me know so I can fix it.

Tags for the beauties: @simpingforsatan @naimena @hachimochi @wrathandgreed @magi-minminxiii @rensphilia @a-dream-at-night @chloelikesobeyme @getbehindme-satan @theuglypugling @oofthelazyweeb @mammonismyfirstman

Word Count: 3293

Warnings: Possible spoilers for the first season (though I think I’ve had some before so...), spoilers for Satan’s “The Search for Self” Devilgram story (it’s not the full story and I added a lot)

Mc followed Satan to a fairly large building. Satan, still so weird to say, had asked her if she wanted to go around the Devildom with him. The letters above the door were illegible, seeing as how the Devildom had their own language and alphabet, but she instantly knew where they were when they walked in, “You took me to an art gallery?!”

“Oh, seems like I made a good choice,” Satan looked a tad shocked, but then smiled, “I like to come here to get away from stuff and clear my head.”

“So, are these like human art galleries?” Mc asked.

“I think so? Naturally, they have older, historically significant paintings, but they also exhibit pieces created by young, up-and-coming artists. And they’re always holding interesting events. It’s a lot of fun… Are you interested in art, Mc?”

“Yeah, I am,” Mc answered.

“Ah, is that so? I’ve got a feeling you and I might get along, then. I really love art.”

Mc felt her heart thill at his words. She’d been interested in the blonde fourth-born the second she’d seen him, and her interest seemed to be well founded.

Satan continued on about why he loved art, and though there was brand new art for her to look at, all she could do was hang watch Satan and hang onto his every word. He wasn’t saying anything she herself didn’t think, but just being here with him was giving her butterflies.

“... If you’re nervous about coming here alone, then say the word, and I’ll join you anytime.”

“Ah, that’s so nice of you. Now that I know this place exists, I’m definitely going to need to visit often.”

“You’re really excited about this, aren’t you?” he was watching her, eyebrow quirked, but with a soft smile.

“Of course! Not only do I have a whole new history to learn about, but there’s even new art!”

Satan chuckled, “Well, I’m glad you’re actually interested in art. It really is important not to focus only on your outward appearance like Asmo, because the person you are on the inside has a way of showing through on the outside as well.”

“I agree. Too many people’s beauty is only skin deep.”

“Exactly. Incidentally, it looks like they’re having a contemporary art exhibit here today. Shall we go check it out?”

“Definitely. I hope demon modern art is better than, “Four Blue Squares on Canvas”.”

“Wait… Really?”

“Yup. It’s a real art piece I saw in my University’s art museum.”

“So, was it really…”

“Just four blue squares on a white canvas, all equidistant from each other.”

Satan blinked a couple times, “Well, I hope ours is better too.”

They entered an exhibit space. Mc found herself a little disappointed, as she saw some of the same stange, abstract, postmodern art she would’ve seen at a human art gallery. Satan noticed the change and hurried to explain, “This is the human art wing. Many of the “lost” art pieces you’ve heard about can be found in collections here in the Devildom or in some of our galleries. This gallery is curated by Lord Diavolo, as advised by Barabatos, Lucifer and myself. Right now I believe this collection was put together by Lucifer.”

“Ah. That makes sense,” Mc stated, lips pursed as she looked around, making Satan laugh.

The duo continued through the gallery, Mc stopping every-so-often to examine a piece that caught her eye. Satan knew the artist’s name and the medium of almost every piece, though there were a few that were new to him too.

“Check out this work here. The use of color is so novel, so original. It’s very eye catching.”

Mc leaned down to read the museum label, “You know, that reddish color really reminds me of… Oh…”

“Human blood? Yeah, I thought as much. Though the smell had been dampened, probably diluted with water, it’s still unmistakable,” Satan answered absentmindedly. Finally seeing Mc’s discomfort, he quickly tried to backpedal, “I’m sorry. I forgot human noses aren’t as... sensitive as demons. This artist makes pieces that stimulate multiple senses. She’s an acquaintance of mine. This piece in particular incorporates the blood of… Seven distinct creatures, demons included.”

“Oh… Which one is the demon blood?”

“The black. If I’m not mistaken, she used her own blood for this piece,” Mc nodded, the art more macabre than she’d originally thought, “Well, there’s a lot more to see than just this. Let’s see, what’s over here in this space?” They walked through an archway into a room that held a huge installation. A lot of strange items filled the room, some on pedestals, or the ground, while others hung from near translucent strings from the ceiling. The lighting in the room was generally low, specific spotlights or illumination obviously very strategically placed. A low glow on the floor marked a pathway that allowed the viewer to wander around the room.

“Wow! Now this is very interesting,” Satan breathed, eyes glittering, “See? Check it out. At first glance it looks like a bunch of random stuff scattered all over the place, doesn’t it? But actually, every piece of rope, string and crumpled paper has been arranged very meticulously. It actually depicts a war between a dragon and an army of angels. If you want proof, look at it from the side. It looks as if the dragon is over powering the army. Buuuut,” Satan continued excitedly rushing over to the other side of the room, “When you look from this other angel here, it seems the angels have the upper hand.”

“Interesting, because, from where I’m standing, I can see Earth.”

“Wait, really?” Satan moved to where Mc was and bent down so he could view it from her height, “Would you look at that. I don’t think I ever would’ve seen that. How interesting… Very nice find,” he complimented, his smile, words and proximity making Mc’s cheeks heat up.

They spent some more time in the room, though they didn’t find any other secrets. They both vowed to come back however to search some more. They then spent more time in the gallery before Satan suggested they head out to get some refreshments at a new cafe in the Devildom.

“Thank you for that Satan,” Mc grinned, “That was some much needed mental refreshment.”

“No, thank you Mc. It can be difficult to get any of my brothers to spend time with me in a manner that I enjoy, and even harder still for them not to annoy me in the process, so I usually end up going around on my own. It was invigorating having someone with me who also appreciates art,” He grinned at her again, making her heart flutter. She could definitely get used to spending time with the Avatar of Wrath.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mc blinked awake. That was the second dream she’d had that seemed more than just a dream. She could still remember the first in clear detail, though her dreams usually started fading once she woke up. The only other time she’d experienced something like this was her memory of being a Wanderer. But… This couldn’t possibly be like that. That was a memory, and these were just the result of finally being able to talk to and spend time with the demon she’d admired for so long… Right? She shook her head, the large questions the dreams brought up already giving her a headache. She grabbed her DDD blinking at the light it gave off. After her eyes adjusted she saw a new message alert. Opening it she smiled. Seems like he'd finally opened up her letter

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Dude, just read it.”

“Easy for you to say.”

Belphie sighed and got up, grabbing the letter off of the kitchen counter.

“What are you doing?” Satan asked.

“Well, if you’re not going to open it, I will. I can’t believe you didn’t read and respond to it that night.  Honestly, you’re one of the most powerful demons in the Devildom and you can’t even-” he was cut off by Satan grabbing the letter from him, the seal already halfway broken.

“I will open it myself, thank you.”

“Then do it,” Belphie said, unaffected by Satan’s anger.

Satan narrowed his eyes, and turned back to the letter in his hands. Logically, he understood why he was nervous, and usually knowing the why behind a feeling would help him get it under control, but that had never worked with any feelings toward Mc. He had hoped this time around would be different, and he was almost more nervous than before. There seemed to be so much more riding on her returned affection than before. Cautiously, he broke the rest of the seal on the envelope, and pulled the letter out/

Dear Satan,

I would love to get coffee with you sometime! If I can be even half as engaging as last time, I’ll consider it a job well done. To help us plan that and talk more easily in the future, I included my number ;) Once you text me, I have a secret to share with you.

Satan blinked a couple times. He turned the letter over to see if she’d written anything on the back. No such luck. Was that really all she’d written?

“Forever the tease I see.”

“... Did you just read that over my shoulder?”

“Well, when you delay as much as you did, and then have that kind of reaction, who wouldn’t? Anyway, you should text her.”

“I… Yes, you’re right. I definitely should,” Satan said grabbing his DDD. He opened the messaging app, typed in her number and… just sat there.

“You good?”

“Hmmm? Oh, yeah. I’m just not sure how to start the-”

He was cut off by Belphie grabbing his DDD, typing something, and then tossing it back to him, “There you go. I’m going to go sleep now. It’s way past my bedtime.”

“Wait, what did you even-”

“Night,” Belphie called from the doorway before walking out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Satan was reading when his DDD meowed that he had a message. He almost threw the book he was reading into the air as he lunged for his DDD which was on the table next to him. He didn’t even have time to be embarrassed at his over-the-top-reaction.

Satan: A secret? 

Mc: Yes :D

My name is not Jane Doe, though 

I’m sure you’ve already

surmised that much

Satan: I thought as much, though it really isan ingenious alias.

Mc: Thank you! I thought so too 

Satan: So… Do I get to know what you’re

real name is?

Mc: Hmmm… What if I want to go get

 that coffee with you before

 I divulge that information?

Satan: We’ll just have to go get that coffee then.

Mc:

When?

Satan: Whenever you’d like. I am free today.

Only if you want though.

Mc: Okay! Shall we say… 16:00?

Satan: As long as there’s no last minute RAD Student Council meetings called, that should be perfect

Mc: Well, if there is, I’ll just have to come

 tell everyone you already made plans.

I’ve been meaning to visit RAD anyway.

Satan:

Oh how I’d love to see Lucifer’s reaction

to that.

Mc:

Satan: Wait… Shouldn’t you be asleep right now?

It’s rather late.

Mc: I was asleep, but…

Satan: Bad dream?

Mc: No actually. Quite the opposite.

I just can’t stop thinking now.

Satan: Ah. I understand that.

Anything I can do to help?

Mc: Would you talk to me a bit longer? Maybe tell me about thelatest book you’ve been reading?

Satan: Of course.

Though he wished Mc would talk to him about what was bothering her, he figured this was probably the better option. They hadn’t met many times, and prying might upset her. So, he simply started telling her the basic plot of the new novel he’d picked up. Eventually, she stopped responding, and the messages stopped being shown as read. Satan smiled at that, texted her good night, and snuggled down into bed himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m sorry!” Mc’s voice brought Satan out of the book of poetry he’d been reading, “Not only did I fall asleep while texting you last night, but then I was late today and I set the meetup time? Ugh, I feel so bad and I’m so sorry!”

“You’re alright,” Satan smiled, not wanting to acknowledge how much anxiety had been eased up by her appearing.

“I woke up late, and I dropped my DDD bad enough that we have to get a new one all together, and then Michael was asking me about native Devildom fabrics and if he should get a new outfit made in one… It’s just been a day so far.”

“Like, I said, it’s all okay. I’m sure you would’ve messaged me if you could.”

“I would’ve. I still feel bad… But thank you for being okay with it,” the look of anxiety to joy that she gave him made every second he’d spent waiting worth it.

“O-Of course,” he got out.

“So, what were you reading?”

“A collection of Arabic love poems.”

“Ah, “... When I love, / I become liquid light,” and “... If the devil was to ever see you, he’d kiss your eyes and repent,” Mc sighed, resting her chin on her hand. Then, as if remembering her current company and current residence, she shot up, “Sorry! I just really love that line.”

Satan laughed, and then said a quote of his own, “My lips and fingers were pens on her flesh. / I memorized her in every alphabet and memorized my memories until they multiplied…”

“I look at you and I dream of snow, I look at you and I await autumn…”

“My temptations in your eyes, And the cities of your grief,” Satan quoted just then realizing they were both leaning in towards each other. He leaned back a bit abruptly and cleared his throat, “Anyway, I really enjoy Adonis’ work.”

“Me too,” Mc answered, leaning back as well. Fortunately, a waiter came up to them to take their order, helping resolve the awkward air his sudden retreat had created. He tried to collect his thoughts as she ordered. He could only think of one thing to talk about though.

“So… Your name is not Jane Doe.”

“Nope.”

“So... What is it?” Didn’t they have this conversation last night?

Mc looked disappointed for a second, but then she was back to normal, “It’s Mc.”

“Really? That’s a lovely name.”

She looked up, eyes measuring him, “You think so?”

“Of course! It suits you really well,” Satan said.

“Well, there’s actually an interesting story behind that. Usually when an angel becomes an angel, they receive a new name. Back in the past, they used to allow them the choice between their new name and their old one. This resulted in too many angels remembering their human life, so they stopped allowing it. I’m the first angel in quite some time to keep the same name as I had in life.”

“Really?”

“Yup. Apparently Sim and Luke were insistent on it. Luke didn’t have a ton of clout upstairs at the time, but Sim does. I promised I wouldn’t question them too much about my human life.”

“They were huh? That’s interesting…”

“Why?”

“Oh, uhhh… Just general curiosity. I’ve been trying to pin down what kind of person Simeon is since the first exchange program,” Satan scrambled, actually managing to sound convincing.

Mc just hesitated and then nodded, not keeping eye contact with him.

“I’m sorry. I’m just nervous that I’ll make a fool of myself and ruin this time like I have the other times we’ve talked,” Satan confessed in Latin, his brain still on the last language he had been reading. Saying the things that had been bothering him started when he became more comfortable around Mc the first time around. He found saying the things on his mind out loud usually released much of his nervous energy, helped him understand what and how he was feeling without doing things to make Mc uncomfortable, even if she hadn’t understood most of what he’d said. It had become something they had shared, causing her to work hard to learn other languages so she could catch the little embarrassing things he said.

Mc gave him a look before replying, “Well, you didn’t mess up last time.”

“Well, I-” Satan cut off when his brain caught up to his mouth. She had just responded. In perfect Latin. His brain flipped back to their discussion on Arabic poetry and he realized she had been quoting that in Arabic too, “I hadn’t realized… Of course you speak other languages.”

“I have to read it in its original tongue. Translations generally don’t do the original justice,” Satan was still trying to think of an appropriate response when Mc spoke again, “Question though: Why did you say that in Arabic?”

“I… I fell into that habit awhile ago.”

“I thought a lot of demons knew different languages.”

“Well, I don’t do this around other demons. I don’t care what most of them think of me…” Satan cut off as the waiter came back with their drinks.

Mc sat in thought for a second before realization dawned on her, “Oh, was it because of…” her face fell before she could continue her thought.

“Hmmm? Did you say something?”

“No, just a stray thought that slipped out.”

“Hmmm… Well, do you want to tell me more about yourself?”

“Only if you tell me more about yourself.”

“Sounds fair to me. We can trade off asking questions.”

“Okay,” Mc seemed very excited by the prospect, and Satan found it infectious. The questions were a bit stilted at first, but they slowly fell into a comfortable space. Though the answers Mc gave, it seemed she was the same person essentially, but a lot more educated, even more opinionated, and with a different upbringing. He found the fact her personality had remained intact very interesting as well as relieving. He found the fact she was now an angel not as terrible as he thought it’d be. Sure, she spoke about saving souls and bringing people to the light, but with what she’d done for him and his brothers, it seemed a perfect fit. He’d always known she was a really good person. At times it had almost made him try to give up on their relationship, not wanting to corrupt her, but also feeling it in his very nature too. Now however, he didn’t necessarily feel that for her. She was an angel and it took a lot to corrupt an angel. He didn’t feel any animosity towards her and found her to be a lot like Simeon in her regard to demons. He found himself thanking Simeon for keeping her intact. If they couldn’t give her back to me, this is probably the next best thing.

They were both surprised when Mc’s DDD rang, a call from Luke asking if she’d be back in time for dinner. While she was on the phone, Satan received a similar call from an annoyed Beel telling him it was time to come home. Lucifer wouldn’t let him eat until he’d gotten home. They both got off the phone at the same time.

“I… actually have to go. I hadn’t realized how late it’s gotten.”

“I didn’t either. I have to go as well. There’s a hungry Avatar of Gluttony at home and a stupid Avatar of Pride that won’t let him eat until I get back.”

“Well, I really had a good time tonight. We should do this again sometime.”

“I agree,” Satan smiled, “Today was amazing.”

Mc smiled and blushed a bit, “I’ll text you later then?”

“Definitely. Bye!”

Mc waved cutely and then started running off in the direction of the castle. Satan watched her until she was out of sight, smiling softly the whole time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So, yeah. Arabic love poems make me live. I apologize if the translations are weird. I literally found them on a twitter post someone had posted on Tumblr. Here’s the link: https://twitter.com/rosewatwr/status/1292487129793208320?lang=en

Can we also take a moment to talk about how absurd it is that Satan, of all people, was having trouble eating properly with a knife and fork?! Are you kidding me?

Part Sixteen

[the-mandalorian-clone-lover]

Aces in Spaces Chapter 17

Little happy sleepover bit a few days after the last chapter :D

Little note about the posting schedule, I’ll be around family that doesn’t agree with me being Ace for the next weeks because of the holidays. I think I’ll still find small moments to post the usual updates, I just wanted to say they might not be at the same times as normal though I’ll try to stick to the same days.

Anyway! Hope you guys enjoy!

Tags: @sunshinepascal @rentskenobi @maybege @obaby-wan @princessxkenobi @agent-450

Masterlist

2yrs 3 months

It’s Erica’s first night in the penthouse, its only a sleep over she hasn’t started moving in yet, but despite Roman’s offer of the guest room she has decided she wants to share with him for the night. He offered her the bathroom if she wanted to change after dinner, but she’d shrugged, deciding to stay in the clothes she had worn over. It’s that same pair of black jeans that she’s had since they started dating that make her legs look miles longer than they already are, has he mentioned he loves that? A long sleeved t-shirt from one of her various martial arts escapades keeps her warm and he acknowledges she’s probably snug enough for movie night (no, he’s not hoping she opted to do that because she forgot her pajamas and then she has to borrow one of his shirts, that’s ridiculous). He goes to change into sweatpants and an undershirt himself, he prefers to sleep shirtless but he grabs the shirt anyway, the last thing he wants to do is introduce unnecessary nudity if it would make her uncomfortable.

The movie passes in comfortable silence, it’s mostly background noise as they both think so loudly its near impossible for either one to focus. A few minutes in Erica gradually migrates closer to Roman, over the course of the first hour they get more and more wrapped up in each other that by the time the credits roll, Roman almost regrets that they have to come apart to go to bed.

He then realizes he should have spent this whole time contemplating how exactly he was going to ask her if she was ready for bed without it sounding weird.

Even if he is overthinking it, he’s certain he can’t be too careful.

She actually ends up breaking the silence first.

“I want to change before we get in bed, I normally drink some tea, would you like some?”

She’s always so diplomatic, giving them both something to focus on instead of the potential awkwardness and he meets her eyes, nodding. “You know where everything is in the kitchen?”

She laughs softly, “I’ve been around here enough that I can find some mugs lover”

He smiles, nodding again, “I’ll wait for you then.”

She meets him in the bedroom a few moments later both hands occupied with coffee mugs.

“I left my bag by the door; I know you don’t get up early so I’ll be able to find it.” She teases him softly as she walks toward the bed and he spits his tongue at her, squeezing his eyes shut before marking his spot in the book he’s reading and reaching out to take the drinks from her, mumbling out a ‘wouldn’t want you to spill’. She passes them across, her tongue peeking out between her lips in concentration, she breathes a sigh of relief once they’re safely in his hands.

“I can’t stand spilling it, let alone in bed.”

He nods, breathing a chuckle.

“Now don’t you laugh at me Mister, you wouldn’t sleep in a wet bed any more than me!”

He has to give her that, it’s virtually inarguable.

“Do you read before bed too?”

She tilts her hand in a so-so motion as she throws the covers back to sit. “Sometimes I do, I forgot to grab my book this afternoon, so I was going to reach out to a friend.”

He nods, handing her cup back to her, pulling back as she reaches for it, causing them both to laugh before he passes it to her carefully. “Are they far away?”

She nods, settling into the covers. “Over in the UK, she’s a great friend though.”

He hums, settling back against the headboard and pulling the covers up before re-opening his book and together they read for a little longer, sipping their tea. It’s a minty blend, probably a dash of chamomile in it as well, and Roman likes it; wouldn’t mind drinking it every night really. Speaking of night, its getting quite late and he’s faced again with the question of how to get them both to bed without being awkward. He decides it’s his turn to pose a solution.

“Do you want me to turn the lights out?” He supposes it’s safe enough.

Erica looks to him before looking down and frowning at her phone in thought. “At my house, I usually walk through and check the doors before I do, just a last assurance before I fall asleep.”

He understands that, reaching to throw the covers back, “Would you like me to, or would you like to come along?”

She smiles at him before her eyes fall down to her hands again. “Would you mind? I don’t mean to be a bother at all, I—”

He shushes her comfortingly “Not at all not at all, sometimes I call Butch over and he tucks me in and turns on my night light so I don’t get scared.” He winks at her, bringing her head forward to kiss her forehead. “I’ll be back love”

He gets out of the bed then, taking the mugs with him and depositing them in the sink before testing each door and making his way back to his room, turning lights off as he goes. When he turns off the bedroom light and crawls into bed; he feels the awkwardness looming again. They’re both lying on their backs, a full arm’s length between them, and even if they do start off movies like this it feels exceptionally far now.

“This is awkward.”

Erica doesn’t sound awkward, just sounding as if she’s making a statement of fact.

“Yup.”

It’s said in agreement. Roman doesn’t know what else to add to her assessment.

“Well, come on then.” Erica’s sitting up now, pushing the covers back and turning toward him. He copies her movements but is incredibly confused and he figures it shows. She’s reaching for his hands then and he offers them readily, then she’s pulling him to stand.

“We’ll jump on the bed like kids, you know you want to.”

They do. He knows it isn’t long but they’re both laughing loudly enough that he’d worry if he had neighbors and she still looks so beautiful. They collapse on the bed together after awhile, still holding each other’s arms and their legs on top of each other. She leans forward in a flurry to press her lips to his and pulls away to shove him down against the bed.

“Now come on let’s actually get some sleep!”

He laughs, pulling the blankets up over the both of them again, wrapping her up in his arms and brushing his nose against hers before they fall back into a comfortable silence that actually allows for sleep.

“This is better.”

Another statement of fact.

“Yup.”

Another agreement.

 *Next morning*

 He half expected her to already be awake and out of bed by the time he joined the conscious world. However, as he comes to, there’s a suspicious amount of warmth for him to be the only one under the covers. The hands he can feel under his shirt are also suspiciously, not his. He blinks his eyes open, finding the ceiling staring back at him. She’s to his left, head perched on his shoulder, arm wiggled up under his shirt, hand resting in-between his pectorals, leg crossed over one of his. She looks, divine. He’s died and gone to heaven because she’s an absolute vision. The sunlight is leaking through the corners of the shades and its framing her face in a low light that’s enough to make out the features without being enough to wake her.

Wake her. He nearly startles at the thought. She’s always been an early riser, and several of her other habits indicate her being a (practiced) light sleeper as well. The fact that she’s still asleep at this hour (and he wagers its nearly nine at least) feels like a colossal demonstration of trust. She made herself completely vulnerable with him, and if her body did wake up naturally at her normal time (she joked once that was 4am and frankly Roman hasn’t had the guts to determine if she was serious), she’d obviously chosen to go back to sleep. He’s floored. He shouldn’t be, he supposes, two years is more than enough time to cultivate trust, but at the same time, he treasures it. This gift she’s given him.

He brings his hand up to rest on hers over his shirt, trying to be careful not to disturb her. Her face scrunches up anyway and he runs his fingers along hers soothingly in an effort to postpone the inevitable. She breathes in and her eyes open, darting to his chest then out into the room before turning her head to look up to him.

She smiles, “Good morning” her voice is a little deeper than usual, a little scratchy even.

He hums, brushing some hair away from her face “So it seems I’m not the only late sleeper.” He’s sure his own voice doesn’t sound much different than hers.

She spits her tongue at him, and he smiles good naturedly before kissing her forehead and mumbling a soft inquiry about her sleep into it.

She grunts, “Well, there was this extremely large man who kept kicking me around midnight or so but he didn’t snore so I didn’t think I could justify shoving him out of bed.”

Roman scoffs “Well that sounds extremely rude, you must like him if you didn’t throw him out, you’ve never been the type of woman to put up with nonsense. Was it anyone I know?” He tries to be casual, to assume nonchalance despite the fireworks of joy and absolute bliss that are currently exploding inside of him at the sheer domesticity of the whole morning thus far.

She blinks twice then frowns at him. “Is there another man in this bed that I’m unaware of?”

He shakes his head, leaning back to get a better look at her face. “Not unless you have something to confess?”

She laughs then dropping her head down against his chest and he abandons his ministrations on her hand in favor of cradling her head against him.

“I’m in love with you, you know.”

She looks up at him and his hand slides down between them. “That is so wonderful my dear. Do you plan to let me have tea before you keep being adorable or is this strictly a before-conscious-thought thing?”

His grin splits his face.

“Well, if you want tea you’ll have to get out of my bed” he traces his fingers up her arm and to her shoulder before brushing them across her cheek. “And I don’t know if I can allow that. For the sake of my health of course.”

“We could just stay in bed then” she muses quietly, eyes never leaving his “Can’t have you risking your health after all”.

He nods, eyes wandering, finding her soft pink lips in the light, swallowing before blinking back up to her golden brown eyes. She starts teasing the small bit of hair that’s within reach under his shirt and he moves his hand to hold her still. She giggles.

“Stop, tickling me.” He chides “I am trying to work up to kissing you”

“Well you have my permission to stop trying and do.”

He does, starting out slowly, bringing his fingers to lift her chin and flattening his other palm against the small of her back. His lips meet hers gently but its only a matter of moments before he wants more, rolling them both so he can lean on the arm that was under her and kiss her deeper. She’s gripping at his shoulders, fisting her hands in his shirt, his lips are warm, and soft; and as she invades his mouth she finds he still tastes like the tea they had last night. She smiles at the memory despite herself, breaking the kiss and laughing softly through her nose before Roman interrupts her by laying swift pecs all over her face. Eyebrows, cheeks, bridge of her nose, hairline, eyelids, jawline, back to her nose, and before he gets in more than two or three, she’s laughing hysterically and halfheartedly begging him to stop. His response is to start tickling her.

Because she’s here, in his bed, and of course he’s going to make her laugh.

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

Second time she stays over its “We could run through the house after we turn the lights off?” She looks up to him with a brilliant gleam in her eye “To be safe from the monsters?”

His grin splits his face and he grabs both of her hands “Let’s do”

They do just about that, laughing and giggling all the way.

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

[bakugouscentedcaramel]

Ah yes, the time has come.

It's time to get your pen and paper because class is in session!

There's plenty of things I could talk about and I pretty much covered the basics down below, but I'm more than willing to help y'all out with anything specific!

I have to preface that I'm not an English major by any means nor do I have any experience writing professionally, the things listed below are purely based on my opinions and submissions I have received.

Writing is forever a learning process, there really isn't a right way of writing but there are definitely some things that will hinder your readers. Here is a list that I compiled both with my own experiences as well as some user submitted issues when it comes to reading works:

•Big blocks of text

° Typos/wrong word usage

•Using the same words

°Too spaced out/not indented where needed

• Dialogue runs into normal sentences

° Speakers/POVs change without notice

• Inconsistencies, either in general or story inconsistencies

°Lack of description/Too much description

• Bland/Artificial actions/dialogue

° Misuse of punctuation/lack thereof

• Capitalization errors

° Long winded sentences

• Using italics for actions

° Confusing formating

• Changing in Tenses

° Using wrong tags/falsely advertising (ex. Reader x Blank should have Y/N, not an OC/Authors name)

• Author notes/comics/pictures in middle of fic

° "~This is a transition~"

• Forcing a character to be OOC for sake of story

° Filler characters

• Not sticking to a specific genre/jumpy moods

Now don't be intimidated by this list! Some of these are pretty self explanatory so I won't go into a few of them. There are plenty of ways to avoid these and in some cases it is perfectly fine to use any of the above. 

Let's start off with the basics!

Sentence structure is the backbone of writing, but it's a very flexible rule. Obviously you have your subject, verb, object and whatnot, but the true art lies in word choice and length.

When it comes to sentences, size does matter. If your sentences are too short they will seem choppy and unfinished, whereas if they are long they will seem winded and unnatural. The biggest tool you can use to find out if a sentence is too short/long is by reading it aloud! If you run out of breath it's too long but if you finish abruptly it's too short.

Word choice is my favorite weapon to work with, I could describe a blue jay as a normal bird or as a mythical animal just by picking the right words!

"The blue jay flew across the field while it sang it's melody."

Or

"A creature with wings made of clouds swooped across the field whilst roaring out a devilish tune."

Word choice can easily convey tone/feeling so it's definitely an important element to writing! If you ever have trouble finding that perfect word try googling for synonyms! Also this website might help you find that one word that you just can't think of!

Grammar is also a very important part of writing. Using the right words and punctuation can be difficult sometimes but there are some easy fixes!

Spelling is an easy fix, if you forgot/don't know how to spell a word consulting a dictionary or Google is a surefire way of solving your problem. You can even find synonyms if you feel like you've used a word too much. 

Punctuation on the other can be a big more difficult, however. 

Here's a couple of sentences that helped me learn basic punctuation:

A comma splice walks into a bar, it has a drink then leaves. Commas are a means of sewing two sentences together to form a compound sentence. These are mainly used to list out things and to add fluidity to your works so they don't sound as choppy.

A question mark walks into a bar? Question marks are pretty self explanatory. They either raise a question or form uncertainty.

Two quotation marks "walk" into a bar. Quotations are used for both dialogue and metaphors. I personally love using them for sarcasm!

A gerund and an infinitive walk into a bar, drinking to drink. This one is a tougher one that I personally never learned from any of my classes. A gerund is basically a word that can act as a verb or a noun which would be "drinking". An infinitive is the base of a verb, in this case it's "drink".

The bar was walked into by a passive voice. A passive voice is when you emphasize the action and object of a sentence rather than the subject. You can find that a passive voice tends to use past tense where as an active voice uses present/future tense.

Three intransitives walk into a bar. They sit. They drink. They leave. An intransitive verb is an action verb, expressing a doable activity like arrive, go, lie, sneeze, sit, die, etc.

Some other things that I commonly see are the wrong usages of words. For example:

They: a group of individuals/pronoun "Yeah, they said he'd be here thirty minutes ago."

Their: a possessive pronoun "Leave their stuff alone!'

There: location "What's that over there?"

Then: event/action "Val went to the mall then skittered to the park."

Your: possessive "Your self esteem is lower than the Mariana's Trench!"

You're: a conjunctive "you are"

Affect: caused by actions "The fallen french fry really affected Val's mood."

Effect: caused by events "Climate change has a negative effect on my Cheerios."

Peaked: a summit "Val has peaked at 10:19pm"

Piqued: stimulate interest/curiosity "You have piqued Val's interest by mentioning food."

Do time: "Val is fixin' to do time if she keeps slacking."

Due time: "Val will come with hydration in due time."

Per say: not a thing

Per se: by/in itself "She didn't write this late at night, per se…"

There are different tools you can use to spice up your writings, from metaphors to innuendos, all the way to zeugmas! Let's go over the basic definitions of these bad boys.

Metaphor: a figure of speech that is not literally applicable. "The darkness surrounded us like a shroud." Obviously the darkness can't physically shroud anyone.

Innuendo: a sentence with a hidden meaning "Is that a gator in your pants or are you just happy to see me~" 

Zeugma: a sentence containing words that can be used literally and figuratively, like a love child of the two above. "Val and her coupon expired last week." This implies that not only did my Colgate coupon expire, but I died as well.

Paragraphs are a necessity when it comes to writing. Big blocks of text are an eyestrain to readers and it's easy to lose your place, even if it's only 150 words. It's always best to use Tab or at least 5 spaces when indenting. A paragraph should only be 5-7 sentences long, this is so it's not just multiple blocks of text

When to add a new paragraph:

° A new person comes in

• New idea/context

° Setting changes

• New person is speaking

° Time changes

• The "camera" moves

° Tone shifts

• 5-7 sentences has been reached

Paragraphs help you organize your work in a way and they make it easier for your readers' eyes!

POVs are also very important. First person and third person are by far the most common ones so I'll only touch on these two. It's very important to write a story in one strict POV as to not confuse the readers. You can however jump perspectives like Heroes of Olmpyus by Rick Rodian, as long as the ready can easily tell who is telling the story.

First person is a story that is told from first-hand experience. It's the same as if I told y'all the story on how I almost chopped off my thumb in woodshop class back in middle school. First person tends to use a lot of I's and my's

Third person is a story that is told from a narrators' point of view. Such as "Once upon a time" type of stories. I's and my's should only be used in dialogue

Dialogue is probably one of the most important features of any fic/story. Dialogue can push plots forward as well as add life to a character. Here's a simple exchanged:

"Hiya 'Splodey," Val chirped.

Katuski smirked, "M'dumbass."

Dialogue should always come with a pair of quotation marks. Commas and periods generally go inside the quotation marks whereas dashes, colons, and semicolons almost always go outside the quotation marks. Question marks and exclamation marks however can go either inside or outside, it goes by a case by case basis. Always indent whenever a different speaker is talking, running quotes into each other is a no-go because it causes confusion and eyestrain.

You have to be wary of using simple dialogue exchanges though, if they seem off try saying them out loud! Dialogue is one of my favorite things to write because you can weave personality into them, not to mention you can always hear people talking to get a better idea on how to write dialogue.

For example, I have a southern dialect, meaning I sound different than someone from the north! I use words like "y'all", "fixin'", "finna", "ain't" and have a different vocabulary than that of my northern friends. This means that the characters you're portraying should have their own way of speaking! This will not only add flavor to your dialogue but it also adds to their personalities/backgrounds.

Describing things can be just as valuable as dialogue, but it is a bit more complex. Sure we've all heard of the "show, don't tell" rule. Which is a good rule to follow, however too much showing is just as bad as telling. Again, reading out your work is a great way to tell if you're focusing too much on one thing. Another thing to keep in mind is importance, such as do we really need to know that the grass outside was bluegrass? Which in certain situations it would be! For example:

The grass around the disheveled house was brown and straw-like, with the exception of a ring of grass. Bluegrass. Which wasn't even native to this location.

This paints a pretty good spooky picture in the readers' mind and even adds the element suspense by the implied uncertainty.

I've only covered a small portion of writing so if y'all have any questions or need any help feel free to slide into my DMs or send in an ask! I love getting questions about writing and I'm always willing to help a fellow writer!

[kiribaku-some-cute-stuff]

All Tongue Taped

For @serorokiweek 2018!!! 

Day 1: First Kiss |  Blind Date AU | Getting Warm/Staying Warm in the Cold Weather

@blondica2014 my dude it took a while and I’m so sorry it’s unbeta’d but ta-da!

Description: The four times Todoroki and Sero kept their feelings to themselves and the one time they didn’t. I’m really fond of this fic, it's a journey from Sero's and Todoroki's 2nd year to their early twenties. They have been carrying a torch for quite sometime until they finally realize their feelings are very much mutual. It’s pretty long so that’s why it’s under a cut.  Words: 7,428 Because it’s a novel I highly rec reading it on Ao3: archiveofourown (dot) org/works/16821238 Disclaimer: Guys there is light gore in this story and a near miss on Character Death but NO ONE DIES. I PROMISE. Also if I missed a tag—I believe I got them but if I missed one please let me know and I will add it immediately. Rated: M because there are a couple of dark elements in here. 

1. The time Sero didn’t Sero Hanta and Todoroki Shouto had been next door neighbors for 1½ years together at UA. There were a lot of people who didn’t understand their friendship—well only those who didn’t know them. Everyone else in Hero classes A and B knew why they were friends, they were into art, weren’t what you call foodies per se but they really liked going out and trying new places to eat. They hung out in each others’ rooms either studying or binge watching old tv shows. It wasn’t far too long into their second year when Sero noticed something had shifted in their relationship.

Sero found himself more and more unnerved whenever someone else had snagged Todoroki on a group assignment, or the way he didn’t mean to but he sort of forgot he and Sero had plans. Especially when Todoroki was specifically hanging out with a certain someone.

That someone, by the way, was Midoriya. The worst part was that Sero felt so guilty about holding a grudge like that against Midoriya. They weren’t best buds or anything but the guy was nice enough you know? It was weird though, and Sero thinking Midoriya was an okay kind of guy somehow made everything that much worse; and Sero couldn’t really place why.

One day while Sero was in the privacy of his own room he just sat on his bed back against the wall he and Todoroki shared. He needed to think because this madness was getting in the way of his grades now and he didn’t move up from 17th in the class to being one of the top 10 for nothing.

So Sero took out one of those tennis-sized rubber balls kids in his neighborhood would play handball with; and bounced it on the opposite wall. It was stupid—but it was an old throwback to when he was in middle school—it helped him think and it was oddly soothing. He’d toss the ball, it would hit the wall, bounce on the ground and Sero would catch it. He did this in an even rhythm, all the while absentmindedly talking to himself to figure whatever this weirdness was with Todoroki out.

“It sure as hell doesn’t make a whole lotta sense…” he said to himself. “Midoriya and Todoroki have been close friends since last year’s Sports Festival so why the hell is it only just bothering me now?” He mumbled to himself as he caught the ball, only to softly throw it again it was almost therapeutic. “And for the that matter, why the hell is it bothering me at all?’

Sero dropped the small ball which bounced a couple of times before gently rolling on the floor. The cause of this was due to Sero coming to an illuminating but horrifying realization.

“Oh shit—Oh Shit—I’m jealous. I like him. That’s why I’m—Oh fuck—what the hell am I going to do?!”

He looked at the ball that had rolled under his desk swallowing harshly. He felt his back stiffen but Sero still looked over his shoulder at the wall dividing him from Todoroki and decided that now that Sero had figured why he was being so freakishly edgy lately… he somewhat owed it to Todoroki and to himself to actually say something about it. So, Sero knocked on their shared wall. It was code. They came up with it during their first year after Todoroki’s dad nearly bit the big one. Todoroki needed to talk about it but he didn’t want it to be “a thing” so Sero offered to just listen whenever he could. It turned into a them thing before long it just became a signal that one of them needed someone to talk to.

What would usually happen was they’d meet out on their balconies unless the weather was horrible. Then the one who heard the knocking would go to the one who knocked. Mina and Uraraka had called it cute, Momo has called it sweet, whatever it was, it was their thing. They’d started doing it since the cultural festival, and it just sort of stuck.

Sero would regret this decision.

He and went outside to his balcony, the air was crisp, but not too cold, and the sun was setting. It was kind of a perfect setting if you think about it. Really, who could have asked for a better setting? It’s not everyday you could have the perfect conditions for ‘fessing up that you have a crush on your friend to their face. Except it wasn’t. Sero couldn’t help but think about how this whole scenery made what he was about to do heavy. It was like he felt like he was in love instead of just being ‘in like’ with Todoroki. And man… when Todoroki stepped out to join him, Sero actually gasped.  

“Hi Sero.” Todoroki smiled easily upon seeing Sero, damn it. How the hell was he going to do this?

“U-Uh h-hey Roki,” Sero said, (casually calling Todoroki the nickname that was only reserved for him to use.)  “Um listen, I was um thinking about something and I was um I-I think I um need some help.”

“What about?”

“H-Have you ever um, had a crush on anyone before?”

Todoroki’s eyes widened, “You’re asking me for relationship advice?”

“W-well not exactly I just—I really think I have have a deep case of the feels you know? A-And um… I-I don’t know.” Sero closed his eyes, what a mess. “What I mean to say is… Todoroki I think I like y—

“I just can’t believe you already found out.” It was clear Todoroki hadn’t been listening to Sero’s struggle of a confession.

“Huh?”

“Me and Izuku, that’s why you’re asking me right?”

Sero blinked, then slowly realized what Todoroki was saying… He and Midoriya. Todoroki and Mido-Izuku?

They were already dating.

“O-Oh, no! I actually h-heh didn’t know that. It kind of makes sense though… why you’ve been bailing on me.” Sero’s eyes widened he hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

Todoroki looked guilt stricken, “I’m sorry I don’t mean to…”

“It’s okay, I mean at least I know why now. Like um now I know I hadn’t done anything wrong.” Sero said softly. “And really it makes sense! You guys are just doing the new relationship dance. Kirishima and Bakugou had a period like this. Mina called it ‘the honeymoon phase’ or whatever. You guys must be just starting out huh?”

Todoroki blushed, “Kind of, it’s been one month and a bit… I think we celebrated our month anniversary two weeks ago.”

Sero swallowed harshly, he felt like he was going to be sick. “That’s awesome man, congrats.”

“Thanks… I’m sorry I didn’t um tell you.” Todoroki rubbed the neck of his neck and looked like he was truly sorry, but…

“Yeah, why didn’t you?” Sero asked with maybe with a touch too much of venom in his voice, but he was angry. And the guilt stricken look Todoroki was giving him? Did not help.

“I don’t know—I didn’t really think much of it when we started it um dating I mean… but when you asked about crushes I thought you knew about me and Izuku and I was taken aback because we haven’t told anyone except—”

“Let me guess… Uraraka and Iida?” Hearing Todoroki call Midoriya ‘Izuku’ for the second time really fucking hurt.

Sero didn’t want to be angry. He really shouldn’t be angry but he was nonetheless. Sure, Sero was a little bit sore because he missed his chance, but that was only a small part of it. But this ran a lot deeper than just Sero having the brief hope of being liked back knocked back to being just a crushed dream.

No, the part that really hurt—the part that really cut him through—was what had this meant for their “solid and close friendship.” Exactly… why hadn’t Todoroki told Sero about this? About any of it? Sero thought they were friends, close friends well shit—best friends actually. But Todoroki seemed like he couldn’t trust Sero with keeping his relationship with Midoriya under wraps… it felt like a gut punch to the stomach. Did Todoroki really not trust him? For fucks sake, Uraraka and Iida were allowed to know but he couldn’t? And shit what about all of those plans that Todoroki had cancelled? All that waiting Todoroki had made Sero have to do? And just exactly how many times had Sero rearranged his schedule for Todoroki and then it meaning… nothing?

Ok, alright, maybe that’s a little harsh. Sero admitted to himself that he was overreacting. Uraraka and Iida were mutual friends of both Todoroki and Midoriya. Sure Todoroki was not as close to them as Midoriya was, but still they were their own circle so Sero could understand why they were in on it. After all, Kirishima hadn’t told Tetstutetsu about his relationship to Bakugou right away. And yeah, ok, Sero thought that that made sense—it still fucking hurt but it wasn’t that bad—it wasn’t as if  Todoroki told Momo or someone else that was only close to him or something.

“Yeah, they know but also I um well I told Momo.”

‘Oh.’

Sero thought he really was going to be sick now.

‘So, that’s how it is…’

In Sero’s mind that was all the confirmation he needed to think that Todoroki didn’t trust him. Momo and Midoriya weren’t close. Momo was pretty much exclusively Todoroki’s friend; she was allowed to know, but Sero wasn’t. Even if that wasn’t the case Sero couldn’t shake the thought; that he was untrustworthy to Todoroki’s eyes, and the worried look on Todoroki’s face reinforced that horrible feeling.

“Dude… I’m not going to tell anyone.” Sero sighed, Todoroki looked visibly relieved. Shit didn’t Todoroki realize how much this hurt? Sero’s was doing everything in his power to not cringe at the proverbial knife that sunk deeper and deeper into Sero’s heart. Did Todoroki really think Sero would spread the details of  Todoroki’s personal life?

A chill went down Sero’s back.

Maybe Sero had been wrong this whole time. Maybe they were never as close as Sero thought. Sero felt his eyes stinging. Maybe Todoroki just hung out with Sero out of pity or guilt from the first year’s Sports festival, and if that was the case…

Had they ever been friends at all?

~~~

“Thanks Sero,” Todoroki said. He felt awful. He knew something shifted between them, he could just feel it.  He didn’t know what had shifted exactly, but then he remembered that Sero had been the one who needed to talk and Todoroki had kind of interrupted—yikes—some friend he was…

“Um, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to interrupt before. You um said that you were worried over your feelings for someone?”

Sero looked pained, “Oh that? Aw man, don’t worry about that, i-it’s not important… it honestly doesn’t matter anyway—th-they like someone else. Um, I’m glad you told me about Midoriya, a-and um I’m glad that you’re happy.” Todoroki noted that although Sero had said the words, there was no life behind them. Actually Sero’s expression turned from pained to outright upset. What had Todoroki done? Todoroki went through everything he had just told Sero and he tried to find what could have garnered this subtle reaction of unrest.

“Are you sure?” Todoroki pressed on, hoping that Sero would tell him. He shouldn’t have interrupted him!

“I’m sure,” Sero put on a fake smile, Todoroki could tell because Sero had so many different smiles that no one had bothered to notice. And well Sero had become one of Todoroki’s closest friends of course he noticed. Sero had been there through the worst and the best of times. Sero knew things other people didn’t know about him—forget close friend, Sero really was his best friend.

‘Oh. Oh shit!’

Todoroki felt himself cringe in realization.

He fucked up. He fucked up badly. Todoroki couldn’t be 100% sure but he assumed that’s what Sero had to have been upset about. Todoroki—albeit inadvertently—had shut out Sero. Todoroki tells Sero almost everything but, how could he not tell him about he relationship with Izuku? It was kind of a big deal—huge deal. The worst part was Todoroki had told Momo who was near equal to Sero in terms of being close—but not really… Todoroki felt a deep sense of shame, he felt like he had betrayed Sero to a certain extent.

Todoroki had to do something to fix this. He honestly hadn’t meant anything by keeping his relationship close to the vest, he just needed to tell him that! Todoroki was ready to apologize for being so short sighted, for keeping Sero at arms length, for not being there for Sero when he needed him. Todoroki opened his mouth to speak but it was already too late.

~~~

Sero hoped he didn’t seem too bitter, he hoped he didn’t look too crushed, he just wanted to forget it, all of it, like all of this never happened. But it did happen.

Todoroki didn’t tell him about Midoriya, and there was no way Sero could tell Todoroki about his feelings for him now. It was stupid it was all so stupid, but Sero knew he couldn’t go back to how they were. He liked Todoroki. He had so many nicknames for Todoroki that now felt far too intimate than it being ‘just a friend thing’ anymore.

Sero had to let this go. He had to let any hope of them being a thing—having a relationship go. Sero thought—no, knew—it would be fucked up if he tried to be anything other than just a friend now. Todoroki had suffered so much and Midoriya made him happy, Midoriya could be the friend—companion Sero could never be.

Besides… he and Todoroki—fuck they weren’t even—Sero felt his stomach drop—they weren’t really friends. 

Sero knew he could will himself to stop seeing some bullshit fantasy of a future for them, because in reality it would be so fucking selfish. He’d confess, make Todoroki choose, cause him some more suffering and even though Todoroki didn’t see them as friends, Sero did. He couldn’t do that, he couldn’t hurt his friend. If he tried then it would ruin relationships and end in tears.  In fact, if Sero didn’t end this conversation right now then it literally would.

“A-anyway, it’s really no big deal man! I mean I doubt—honestly I don’t think you’d be able to help. Sorry for um dragging you out here for nothing. U-um goodnight Ro—” He paused… no, not Roki anymore, not ever again.

”Goodnight Todoroki…” Sero hated that his voice cracked. Sero felt like he was going to break but he didn’t. Even though Sero was devastated and wanted nothing more than to take back everything he said to take it all back. A small part of himself couldn’t help but feel some satisfaction at seeing his friend experience a fraction of what Sero had these past weeks—hell the way Sero was feeling right now.

Sero was surprised that all it had taken was calling Todoroki by his full surname instead of ‘Roki’ to see Todoroki’s face fall. It felt good for about a second and then twisted into almost grief…  they weren’t the same anymore and Sero hated it.

It was definitely time to leave.

Sero waved at Todoroki before going back into his room. He shut the door; he put on his music and covered his face into his pillow so Todoroki couldn’t hear him cry himself to sleep.

~~~~~

2. The time Todoroki didn’t

Todoroki and Sero had been different ever since that night in their second year. The night Todoroki told Sero that he was seeing Midoriya.

It was subtle the way their friendship had changed. Not necessarily bad but—it just wasn’t anywhere near like it used to be—Todoroki knew it was his fault, he should have told Sero about Midoriya. Yes… Izuku was Midoriya again.

Todoroki didn’t realize how many times he had missed hanging out with Sero until he realized Sero stopped inviting him to movie nights—or that he had changed the day altogether…

Apparently when Sero and Todoroki had their movie nights it was because Sero had actually moved stuff around and made time for them, for him. Todoroki felt awful about that, and then having to deal with the shame of even asking if he could come along to the the new movie night—group night, no longer nights that were just theirs anymore.

Todoroki would never forget how embarrassed Sero looked when Todoroki asked to come back; and Todoroki would never forget the anguish he felt when Sero told him the reason he stopped inviting him. Sero revealed that he thought that maybe Todoroki didn’t really want to be friends with him. That Sero had been too pushy when it came to them.

That had hurt more deeply than when he and Midoriya broke up. That shouldn’t be how it works right? Shouldn’t you be devastated after a romantic break up? It wasn’t like Todoroki wasn’t sad that it didn’t work out between them—him and Midoriya. They had fun, but in the end Midoriya and Todoroki were better off as friends. The weird thing was, he and Midoriya only had one awkward week before they were back to being good friends again, if anything they were closer now than they had been when they were dating but they still weren’t anywhere nearly as close as how he had been with Sero.

Meanwhile, he and Sero seemed to be well… damaged. Yes, it was subtle, and yes they didn’t hate each other or anything but when Sero had told Todoroki that he thought Todoroki didn’t like him? The thought of Sero thinking that the only reason Todoroki hung out with him was out of pity? That hurt more than anything.

He hadn’t stopped thinking about it ever since that dumb night, and that’s when it hit him.

He liked Sero. He had a crush on Sero. He didn’t want to tell Sero he had been dating Midoriya because he had had feelings for Sero.

“I’m such an idiot.”

It made sense now, it all made sense now, and how could he have not realized it?!

He should probably do something about it right? He should tell Sero. Who knew? Maybe there was some sort of hope—but then Todoroki walked into the cafeteria.

He saw Sero sitting at a table with his friends and then a girl from class 1b came over—Tokage Setsuna—and sat on Sero’s lap, then kissed his cheek.

Todoroki felt his stomach drop and a pressure behind his eyes. And that was it, that was the end of that. The thought of confessing died instantly. He turned around and walked away, after all… it was his fault in the first place.

~~~

Sero hadn’t meant to tell  not  Todoroki he had been dating Setsuna. Especially since well he really hadn’t been seeing her for all that long actually—really—they had only been on two dates maybe? One on Saturday and one on Sunday—they just had a natural sort of chemistry—similar personalities and all of that. Sero had told the ‘squad’ but he hadn’t told Todoroki yet. It wasn’t so much out of revenge or anything. It was just that Sero and Setsuna were so new, it didn’t seem like they were ‘a thing’ yet.  But also it felt weird—or wrong—or he wasn’t sure but something Todoroki knowing about Sero new relationship left him with an unsettling feeling inside. Sero supposed that maybe this was why Todoroki hadn’t told Sero about Midoriya last year.

But clearly they were ‘a thing’ because when Setsuna talked to his friends and kissed his cheek and he felt so warm. Sero just liked being around her, she had a great sense of humor and it was just nice to be—well to be liked back for a change—but then Sero saw Todoroki’s face at lunch. Todoroki walked in briefly making eye contact before turning around having his lunch somewhere else.

Sero thought that he was going to be sick, it was the exact same feeling he had felt last year. He should have told Todoroki. They may not have been as close as they used to be, but they were still friends. And since Sero had experienced this exact same thing he knew better. He could have said something, could have followed him, but instead he stayed where he was and watched Todoroki go.

~~~~~

3. The time they both didn’t

After graduation Todoroki offered to move in with Sero, and it was a god send because Sero was going to move in with Setsuna but well life happened, Setsuna had to move to Nagoya for with and they decided to break up.

It was on mutual terms and they still talk and all that, but they had fizzled out into friendship by then. The long distance relationship thing would have been way too difficult to maintain in their line of work. They were sad and were really emotional about their break up but ultimately they were at a crossroads and they knew it was for the best.

Unfortunately, this left Sero a little high and dry because he had signed a lease and the rent was way too high if he had to live there on his own. So yeah, when Todoroki offered to move in, Sero accepted without hesitation. It was weird at first, you know, living together? But after a while, it was like magic. They had gotten back to where they were before—being good friends, hanging out together, getting closer and closer. It was like their weird little rift had never happened—well almost.

Sero didn’t feel comfortable calling Todoroki, ‘Roki’ and yes it had been years—but it just didn’t feel the same anymore. Who knew? Maybe some things couldn’t be unbroken. It was a moot point though that was all behind them and there was no reason into have that small insignificant thing bog down the friendship they had rekindled. So back to being friends only it was, they got to be: Pro-heroes together, living together, fighting villains together, and of course being exhausted together. One day was particularly harder than most. They had come home and Sero immediately took to their couch.

“Ugh,” he sighed, “Fuck me, today sucked.”

“It was a long shift that’s for sure… do you want to order in? Watch something mindless.”

Sero’s eyes widened as he laughed, “Shit, now I KNOW you’re tired. When was the last time you caved on cooking yourself? Actually, never mind, I’m not gonna question it—that all sounds good, but uh before you sit down would you mind grabbing me a beer?”

Todoroki laughed back, “Sure thing.”

As soon as Todoroki laughed Sero felt something coil in his abdomen.

That was weird.

That laugh—Roki’s laugh—normally it wouldn’t have done anything to Sero. He knew that laugh, he liked that laugh… but wait no! He had completely gotten over what that light soft laughter did to him when he was younger.

No.

But then Sero remembered. That laugh, that fucking laugh. That’s how it all started in the fucking first place. He hadn’t been able to pick out the precise moment he started to be in like with Todoroki in his tender UA days. (Well at least not until he spent countless hours obsessing over it while he was mooning in unrequited love).

Sero remembered how Todoroki had laughed it one of his jokes and then well clearly started dating Midoriya so he tucked it away—buried it and never thought of it again until now. Todoroki’s laughter spread through him filling him with such a soft familiar warmth. He hadn’t felt anything for Todoroki during these past three years—not since they graduated from UA—until now.

That stupid fucking laugh.

He tried burying it again but he just couldn’t shake it and this time he was pretty sure it wasn’t going to go away as easily.

~~~

Todoroki couldn’t believe how exhausted he was how exhausted they both were. He was glad to hear Sero didn’t mind Todoroki missing his turn for cooking that night, and he even laughed when Sero asked him for a beer. Todoroki went to get it without question, in fact he himself would be part taking as well.

“Hey Sero?”

“Y-Yeah what’s up?”

“Do you want a glass or are you okay with a can?”

“Oh uh a can is fine, to be honest you could probably throw it at me and smack me in the face and I probably would care. What do you want to order?”

“Uh, I don’t know Sero you pick, I’ll pay.”

“Well shit then I shall go with something less healthy and more expensive than usual. And! I can rationalize that it’s really your fault because you gave me free range!” Sero laughed and what had happened to Sero moments before happened to Todoroki.

Todoroki heard his heartbeat in his ears.

That laugh… Sero’s kind—warm, laugh that so easily brought a smile to anyone’s lips and his smile—

“‘Kay just ordered garbage pizza.” When Sero laugh again Todoroki realized that that laugh made him feel this way before.

No.

Todoroki shook his head. There was no way he could feel that spark that again, that spark of love and longing that had pained him in his days at UA.

Could it?

No. No!

Todoroki decided, that he was just tired, it just had been a long day—yes that’s all. He shouldn’t—didn’t have the right to hope that they could work out this time. He broke them. He broke them because he was too much of an idiot to realize just how much he cared for Sero the first time back at school. And Todoroki realized that he shouldn’t try something it could ruin them again.

But…

~~~

Sero’s got goosebumps when Todoroki sat down. Their outer thighs touched and they gave each other a deep meaningful look, like they knew. Like they both knew there was something different about each other this time. If only they knew what the other was thinking, if only they realized that they were both thinking the same thing.

‘What could be the worst thing that could happen if I said it? If I admitted to liking him far more than just a friend… that I had a crush in UA and that it never went away. It could go wrong but what if—what if  it turned out alright? Better than alright?’

The two of them looked over at each other and it was almost uncanny how they both turned their heads at the exact same moment and to see each others’ eyes look so vulnerable. Their hearts were beating like drums and they found themselves almost holding their breath. They gave each other a look full of longing, full of desperation and desire. It was dangerous but it held a promise of more—of everything they had ever hoped for. 

They were ready—terrified but ready—and then the door bell rang.

Sero looked away and Todoroki felt himself standing up, dear god the bitter disappointment they both felt made it hard for them to breath.

Each of them had a secret hatred for the delivery man. When Todoroki came back with the food he saw that Sero had turned on the tv and put on an old tv show from the Quirkless Era.

He saw that Sero had moved away from where he had just been sitting. Todoroki offered Sero an awkward smile they both felt the tension leave the room.

The moment was gone.

~~~~~

4. The time they kissed but didn’t tell

  It was their day off and they decided doing some shopping for getting some groceries, some light bulbs, just ordinary run of the mill stuff you know? And maybe, just maybe they could talk about it. The thing that they once again been keeping from each other. They both caught themselves staring at each other with glances of longing.

It was time.

They honestly couldn’t subject themselves to this much torture again and again.

Sero and Todoroki almost touched pinkies several times on their walk to the store. Finally they both summoned all of their courage to make the bold gesture, but just as their fingers touched—the ground, building, everything began to quake.

~~~

The earthquake that rocked Tokyo, was huge, they’d find out later that it was a 8.1 on the Richter scale. It left Todoroki and Sero no time for secret wants and desires, their Pro-hero training turned on into high gear as they started escorting everyone out of the building.

They were successful in getting everyone out, but they decided to do one last sweep of the place before considering it officially cleared, it was protocol after all. There were only a handful of people who needed extra help in getting out. Once they were sure everyone was out of the store they started to exist the building. That was when the aftershock hit ultimately causing the ceiling to cave in all around them. 

Sero acted quickly, grabbing Todoroki and slung his tape to a stable corner of the store and bungeed them there. They barely made it, if Sero had acted a second later they would have been crushed under the rubble. They were trapped, but they were alive and as long as there wasn’t another massive aftershock they were more or less safe.

Well, sort of.

In their semi-escape to safety, Todoroki broke his leg was completely shattered, it was a small miracle that the bone hadn’t broken through the skin. But Sero… Sero was a different story altogether. On a first glance you’d think Sero was completely unscathed minus some minor cuts and abrasions, but then all you had to do was look at Sero’s torso to see how not okay he truly was. Somehow, in their rush to safety a huge shard of glass had embedded itself within Sero, protruding from his abdomen.

“Sh-shit… Todoroki… you ok?” Sero wheezed before coughing.

“Yeah” Todoroki panted, “my leg’s broken but otherwise I think I’m ok, are you—” Todoroki looked at Sero and his chest swelled from dread.

‘No.’

Todoroki could barely breathe when he saw it. ‘It’ was a huge chunk of glass was lodged into Sero’s side. Todoroki suspected that cursed piece of glass was like an iceberg, he could only see a part of it but the majority of the shard was probably inside Sero. Dread turned into a black pit of fear, it coiled in Todoroki’s stomach and sent chills down his spine.

‘Please no.’

“It’s ok… Todoroki it will be ok; please don’t look at me like that. Remember help is coming, those people know that we came back in here. I just need to make sure not to move the glass. Man, being a hero sucks sometimes huh?” Sero tried to laugh but ended up mainly coughing.

“T-Take it easy, please for me, j-just no jokes right now,” Todoroki cried.

“O-Okay. Hey Todoroki, in all seriousness I um, I’m going to need you to um…” Sero took a ragged breath. “I’m gonna need you to bandage me with my tape, keep this thing in place, if it moves I don’t know how that will effect the interior wounds…”

“Yes, of course—you got it, I can do you one better.” Todoroki used his ice quirk to freeze the glass and broke off a big chunk of it. If nothing else it would take away some of the weight and stopping it from shifting deeper into Sero. After that Todoroki carefully bandaged him.

“Th-Thanks…” Sero said panting.

“N-no problem—hey S-Sero…” Todoroki looked at Sero biting his lip afraid to say exactly what he was thinking—what he needed to say.

‘Y-yeah? Heh,” Sero paused before he used the nickname he hadn’t spoken for years, “w-what’s up Roki?” 

Todoroki closed his eyes—It wasn’t fair.

“Just hold on, h-hold on okay? You’re right, this is a heavily populated area they will send someone here o-okay? Sero please just hang on…” Todoroki wasn’t even aware how panicked he sounded, or how much he repeated himself he just needed Sero to stay alive. Sero’s eyes fluttered closed  ‘fuck’  Todoroki had to keep him awake—something anything to keep him awake.

“You called me Roki h-heh I haven’t heard that name in a while. I can’t even remember when you started calling me Roki. But I do remember the day you stopped… I’m sorry I shouldn’t be—”

That did the trick. It woke Sero up enough for him to explain why he stopped. Who knows, it might be his only chance. “It was stupid of me to do in hindsight. I um. I just—” Sero shivered a little but didn’t complain. That was concerning but Todoroki dared not to interrupt.

He had been wanting to hear why he Sero stopped, up until this point Todoroki could only guess he spent years blaming himself but not really knowing why and now was his chance to know what specifically was the thing he fucked up that put a strain in their relationship.

“I just—i-it was a lot of things, a lot of small stupid things. I-I think I mi-might have told you the short version when we were y-younger, but i-it started with um you not telling me about Midoriya. I-I mean when you guys started dating. I-I thought um,” Sero coughed and Todoroki winced, “I thought that name was too intimate to say—or that m-maybe you had a problem with me using it because you didn’t trust me? You didn’t tell me about Midoriya, and it wasn’t so much that you started seeing him, it didn’t even matter that you told Uraraka and Iida. They w-were your mutual friends but Momo was exclusively your friend, b-but you didn’t tell me. I thought we were really close but you didn’t tell me and it made me realize that—I felt like you didn’t tell me because we weren’t close. That you didn’t trust me… that I… I thought that I didn’t matter to you as much as your other friends. I felt like I had been bothering you that whole time. It was stupid and I knew it wasn’t true but it hurt at the time and then I hadn’t meant to but I did the same thing to you with Setsuna… A-after that,” Sero started a hacking cough.

“S-Sero—”

“I’m okay,” Sero let out a ragged breath, “I’m okay… S-So I just stopped calling you Roki because I just felt too guilty to call you a nickname that wasn’t for me to call you anymore.”

Todoroki sniffled, “I’m sorry. I-I a-always trusted you—I don’t know why I didn’t tell you about my relationship with Midoriya. I think it was because of how guilty I felt about everything I had done to you. I didn’t realize how much you tailored your schedule to fit mine until I realized you changed movie night. I fucked up and I didn’t know how to fix it and I wanted to, but I felt like I broke us beyond repair.”

Sero felt a tear stream down his cheek, “you didn’t… of course you didn’t.”

A weight had lifted from them, pity it had to be now, here in the rubble. They heard a voice. Jirou—help had finally arrived, all they had to do was wait for the rescue team to fish them out. Jirou was one of them. She told them that everything was going to be okay, that they were coming, that things were a bit complicated with the way the building collapsed so they had to remove the rubble that covered them slowly and as carefully as possible. It was a waiting game that Todoroki wasn’t sure Sero could afford… Especially since Sero started shivering.

“R-Roki I’m okay j-just a little cold heh you were right this morning. I shudda worn an extra layer…”

“F-f-fuck no you’re not Sero! You’re going into shock,” Todoroki felt like crying. He had too keep Sero warm thankfully Sero was on Todoroki’s left side. Todoroki put his arm around Sero very very carefully and warmed him up with his left side.

“A-any better?” Todoroki said not feeling that much better himself.

“Much, th-thanks man.” Sero tried hard show Todoroki that he was ok but the reality was that Sero was slipping into shock and he was in an excruciating amount of pain.

~~~

It seemed like hours and Jirou had given them periodic updates but they still weren’t anywhere close to getting the two of them out and it was taking everything from both of them to not scream, cry or pass out, but even with all of this mess a single thought passed through their minds.  ‘I need to tell him before I go.’

“Sero—we might die here and there’s, there is something I have to tell you.” Todoroki hated that he could barely talk without sounding like he was panting.

“Don’t.” Sero let out a humorless laugh, “I-I have to tell you something too a-and I think it’s the same th-thing, and i-if it is what I truly hope it is.” Sero lifted up his arm and stroked Todoroki’s cheek, “then please not now… not like this, pl-please not like this.” Sero choked back a sob. His eyes were both foggy and glossy. Foggy from what Todoroki from what he knew was shock and glossy from tears that had threatened to spill out this entire time. Sero was shaking each breath he took considerable effort, but he smiled anyway… that stupid beautiful smile.

“Besides, I-if we…” Sero swallowed, “if we say it now then h-heh you know one of us will definitely die and um the odds look like they’re more in my favor of dying than in yours.” Sero tried to laugh but ended up coughing again. Once Sero caught his breath he continued on meekly, “And if we die… what will have been the point?”

Todoroki could feel his lips quiver as silent tears streamed down his face. This wasn’t right... None of this was right.

Todoroki gazed upon Sero’s face, his watery eyes and then focused on Sero’s smile once more. That smile that all but destroyed him. Sero’s perfect, albeit weak brave smile. It took everything in Todoroki’s power to stop himself from sobbing outright as he felt nothing but fear. It looked like Todoroki would have to suffer  the inevitable heartbreak that would come w-when Sero—when he…

Todoroki gritted his teeth, he waited too long. They waited too long, too fucking long. Sero was right Todoroki couldn’t say it definitely  ‘not like this’  but he could do something…

Todoroki didn’t say a word when he leaned in and softly kissed Sero’s forehead, he just closed his eyes tightly.

“R-Roki?”

Todoroki leaned over palming Sero’s cheek; Sero realized what Todoroki intended so he leaned in as much as he could.

When their lips met they moaned they weren’t sure if it was from pain, fear or longing. The kiss was gentle at first—gentle but desperate it It wasn’t enough, nowhere near enough. So when Sero parted his lips Todoroki wasted no time deepening the kiss.

  Their first kiss, it was perfect, and it would most likely be their last...

~~~~~

+1. The time they did.

  They got out of the rubble.

Not unscathed, broken ribs, physical therapy, horrible injuries and hell mental health therapy not to mention all the paid leave they were forced to take. At first they were annoyed by it all, but later on? Well… it wasn’t that bad—even if they were on medical leave for the next 4 months. But then they realized how exhausted they were, how sore how scared and how much they were relieved just to take the time to spend with each other.

However… they still hadn’t talked about what they had been desperate to say during their little near death experience. 

They both wanted to—so very very badly—but something about it almost felt like it hadn’t been real. They both felt like maybe it had all been just a dream… So they stood by for weeks and said nothing.

Sero felt a swell of sadness in his chest because even though he had held out all of this hope he felt like it was never going to happen… Meanwhile, Todoroki was on edge. Seeing Sero in what looked like his final moments was about more than he could take for a lifetime. He wanted to say something—anything—but it just felt all so fragile.

So instead they did what they had always done for the past 7 years. Said nothing, did nothing, smile and nod and pretend their feelings that ran do much deeper than friendship did not exist.

  Until one day.

  One ordinary boring day—halfway through their medical leave—they were stuck inside. It was raining and their joints ached so they gave up and settled on the couch.

“What will it be today?” Todoroki asked  numbly. Why did he bother asking? That’s not what he wanted to talk about—that’s not what he wanted to do. He wanted to reach other and kiss Sero again. He wanted to hold him—cry to him just to make sure he was still there, still alive.

“I don’t know a comedy maybe? Heh, I think we’ve had enough devastation for the year, right?” Sero replied rubbing the back of his neck. Why couldn’t he just bring it up? He’s the one who told Todoroki “not now” when they were buried alive. He should be the one to bring it up right? If only he had some confidence, someway of knowing it wasn’t just a dream or Todoroki doing Sero a favor… a small comfort to a dying man.  Fuck.

Todoroki had wanted to talk about it, about what happened down in the rubble but he was scared that maybe it was only because they were in a life and death situation…  but then Todoroki looked at Sero and saw his discomfort. Todoroki realized he had to be the one to do it. Todoroki slowly moved his hand over placing it carefully on Sero’s knee. Todoroki didn’t miss Sero’s breath hitch when Todoroki let it rest there.

“Sero—H-Hanta?” Todoroki said, testing out Sero’s first name carefully.

“Y-yes?”

“Can you um look at me?”

Sero closed his eyes  pausing before turning to face Todoroki, “H-Hey.”

“Hi, um if it’s alright—I would like to um continue the conversation we never finished  when we were—when we were down there—in the rubble.” Todoroki took a beat, “Hanta I nearly lost you. I nearly lost you without ever telling you how much—how much I care about you. How sorry I am, and how I know mostly to blame for us having to wait for so long and I-I." Todoroki swallowed and clenched his jaw before continuing, “And yes, you’re okay now, but I nearly lost you Sero. I nearly lost you and you keep going on like nothing happened like we didn’t kiss like it didn’t matter—a-and it’s okay if it didn’t but Sero I—

Sero turned and cupped Todoroki’s cheeks in both hands and pressed his lips to Todoroki’s briefly before speaking, “I love you too, Roki. I have  always  loved you.”

They took a moment to look at each other—to really look at each other. They studied all of each other’s features and made out all the emotions etched behind them. There was some fear, there but also hope but above all there was so much love.

They kissed each other again but this time? It was different. It was feather light—soft—and even though they had waited so long… they didn’t want to rush it. They didn’t have to this time. It wasn’t desperate, it didn’t need to be, not like the way their first kiss was.

Because this time they knew, it wouldn’t even come close to being their last.

  Fin.

[henry-hart]

“Kid Lightning” - a Charlotte Bolton One-Shot Series: Prologue - "The Pilot"

Okay, so @s4karuna messaged me one day a few weeks ago about a thread of Chenry headcanons, and we eventually got into talking about a possible fic idea for Charlotte. So many possibilities were born from then on. This is all her idea, by the way. Give her 100% of the credit. She came to me with such a brilliant concept, and I merely helped her expand on the whole thing. I ended up volunteering (because it’s just too good an opportunity to pass up) to turn her ideas into a series of one-shots, each piece dedicated to one of the tales she told me. The underlying theme stems from this one what if: what if Charlotte never told Henry that she knew his secret? Awesome, right? I know. @s4karuna is incredible, as are all her ideas. This first piece will be a bit of an introduction before it all gets rolling and the whole “Kid Lightning” bit gets explained. I’m excited to show you guys all that we have planned!

***Something to know before we start: This one-shot (and the rest that will follow) follow the sequence of events in "The Secret Gets Out"--i.e. Char still gets suspicious and pieces together that Henry is Kid Danger. The details are still the same, BUT she doesn’t confront him.

Dedicated to: First and foremost @s4karuna because well duh. Then we have my usual tag gang :) @sunbeameyes @ramune-ray @kiwikwami @youngbloodthekilljoy @up-the-tube @sleepylilsnowflake @shonashee @writing-excuses @coldasalaska @chewbaccaagainstthoughts @lesbian-so-what @an-anxious-gay-mess @periwinklechild @alissamikealson @jyrus-kelevra @x-cookies-art-x @knowwheretolook @thehotbrothburglar @ishouldbsleeping @can-you-believe-it and @food-o-matic and @jumpin-jaspers you’re joining the gang.

Fandom: Henry Danger

Summary: Charlotte discovers Henry’s big secret, but she doesn’t tell him that she knows. She keeps it to herself, deciding to use her knew knowledge of his identity to help her masked friend from the sidelines instead. But once she gets a small taste of the crime-fighting life, a spark is ignited inside of her, giving birth to a desire to be a protector of Swellview as well. ;)

A/N: Like I said, this is an intro piece. This is just the whole “I know your secret” scene edited to fit our narrative. Enjoy!!!!! xoxoxoxo (I’m actually shaking from excitement because I really want you guys to read this girl’s ideas!!! aksjlksj)

Charlotte burst through her front door, running past her parents who were waiting in the kitchen for her.

"No time to talk!" She announced, stopping them before they could even get a word out.

She knew they were looking for an explanation as to why Charlotte was only just getting home so late at night, but she didn't have the time. She had to get to her room, somewhere she could be alone, and get everything she'd just pieced together in her mind out before she lost it.

She made it to her room, accidentally slamming the door behind her in her haste. She dropped down into her desk chair, throwing her book bag on the table in front of her. She retrieved her notebook from her bag, her right leg bouncing up and down rapidly all the while.

She placed the notebook in front of her and flipped to the most recent page as quickly as she could, ripping a few pages in the process. In this notebook she recorded all of the observational notes she'd been taking on her best friend ever since he'd been hired at Junk 'n Stuff. She stopped on the most recent pages, scanning through what she had written.

Won't tell us what his job is. Has been really jumpy lately--more than usual. Is always making lame excuses before disappearing. Weird beeping watch???

She skipped ahead to the notes she'd made today.

Got really defensive when Jasper dissed Kid Danger.

Then came the most important notes she'd made, the ones she'd written on the way home from Henry's house...

...Charlotte had forgotten one of her textbooks in Henry's room when she had been at his house studying, and she needed it to finish her homework for school the next day, so she decided to go back to his house to get it, despite how late it already was. The textbook was important, but it was more a front to mask her true intentions. She had another, more pressing reason to be at Henry's house--a reason that made the time seem to be of no consequence. 

She'd called Junk ‘n Stuff earlier that day to talk to Henry, but no one had answered. She could've just shrugged it off, chalking it up to any number of things (they were busy, no one was near the phone, the phones weren't working, etc.), but she didn't. Too many things about that store and Henry didn't add up. She couldn't let herself believe that it was nothing.

So, Charlotte decided to confront Henry about it. She would be tactical. She'd make like she came for her book, all the while scoping Henry's behavior out, possibly tripping him into admitting something.

She made her way to Henry's house and up to his room with fierce determination in her step. She was buzzing with anticipation. She might finally get to the bottom of whatever had been going on with Henry.

She knocked on his bedroom door a little harder than she meant to.

It took him awhile to answer.

“What are you doing here?" Henry asked, out of breath, looking nothing like a boy who had just gotten out of bed. He wasn’t even wearing pajamas. 

He pulled his lips into a tight line and drummed his fingers against the door frame while he waited for Charlotte to answer.

Charlotte knew immediately that something was up, but there seemed to be a lot of “somethings” up with Henry lately. She decided to wait to see how this was going to play out before she showed her cards.

"I came back for my math book. I forgot it, and I need it for tomorrow." She explained, watching Henry carefully through narrowed eyes.

He visibly relaxed. "Oh, yeah, right. Your book." He stepped away from the door, and Charlotte walked into his room.

Henry found her book immediately, and walked back to hand it to her. His posture was softer, more relaxed, and he was almost smiling. Obviously Charlotte's forgotten book proclamation had put him at ease.

Two things happened then, unbeknownst to Henry, that solidified Charlotte's working theory.

A gust of night wind blew in through Henry's open window--the fact that it was open and Henry's shoes were right beneath didn't go unnoticed by Charlotte--and washed over the two of them. Henry blocked the majority of the breeze from reaching Charlotte, and in consequence, a sweet smell wafted off of him.

Henry didn't exactly stink, but he most definitely didn't go around smelling like...syrup?

A news report she’d watched earlier that day flashed through Charlotte's mind: Captain Man and Kid Danger stopped a robbery at a syrup factory.

Her hand froze before she could grab her book. Her eyes widened as it all fell together in her mind, revealing to her the answer to all the questions she'd been relentlessly mulling over--all of them to do with Henry.

This was nothing like what she’d been expecting. She thought maybe he was in some secret club that he was too embarrassed to tell anyone about or something, but this?

Henry noticed that Charlotte looked a little spooked. "Hey, you okay?" He asked, not as tense now that he was sure she hadn't come here to confront him or anything. His secret was safe.

Henry's voice snapped Charlotte back to reality. She took her book from him, slowly backing away.

"Yeah, I'm fine." She muttered. She kept walking until she made it to the door. "I gotta go." She blurted and turned to bolt for the stairs, anxious to get away from Henry and somewhere she could reflect on everything she'd just figured out.

"Char, wait--" Henry tried to call after her, but she was already gone...

...Charlotte, now out of her flashback and back in the present, read the note she scribbled in her mad haste to make it back home. She had been writing too fast for her handwriting to be neat, but the messy scrawl read:

I called the store; no one answered. Went to his house. He was tense. Like there was something he was scared I'd find out. The window was open. His shoes were under it. He had just come in through his window.

Then came the most important note she had. This was the one that had been proof enough for her.

Captain Man and Kid Danger stopped a robbery at a syrup factory. Henry smelled like SYRUP (this was in all caps and underlined--her first definitive clue).

Her hand was shaking as she went to make her last note. Her writing was even worse than before now that she couldn’t keep her pen steady. She wrote:

Henry is Kid Danger.

It made so much sense. How could she have not seen it before? The same blonde hair. The same goofy grin. It was all Henry--not to mention the fact that every time he disappeared a news report about Captain Man and Kid Danger would air just as he made it back.

Charlotte leaned back away from her desk and her notebook. She stared at that last sentence.

Seeing it there, written, out of her mind and on paper, was almost surreal. 

For weeks Charlotte had this whole thing sitting heavily in the back of her mind. She knew there was something Henry wasn't telling her or Jasper, and she didn't like not knowing. She was practical, logical. If there was a problem, she found the solution. If there was a question, she found the answer. But this wasn't a mathematical problem nor was it a scientific question. This was Henry and some secret he was keeping. She couldn't just input some numbers or run some tests and have it all solved, and not being able to figure it out was driving her mad. It was keeping her up at night, keeping her from focusing, from eating. She felt like she was the one harboring some huge secret.

Initially, she'd been almost mad at Henry. She was one of his best friends. What could he not tell her? What could be worth making her feel this way? They told each other everything. What could make that change now?

Charlotte, ever the problem-solver, had taken matters into her own hands. She paid extra attention to Henry. She watched him closely, mentally logging anything odd or unusual or secretive that he did, and it had paid off. She now knew what Henry was so adamant to keep from her and Jasper.

And now that she new, she understood all the secrecy.

This wasn't like the time Henry had accidentally broken her telescope when they were kids and didn't tell her for a week. This was so much bigger. Henry was a superhero--well, a superhero's sidekick--who fought to protect Swellview. 

No wonder he was always so tired. 

He had to be a normal kid by day and a crime-fighter by night. That was a lot to put on anyone, especially a thirteen year old boy. Charlotte was a little hurt that Henry couldn't come to his best friends about any of it, but she knew why. He had a secret identity to think about. He couldn't do what he did--help Captain Man keep the city safe--if everyone knew who he really was.

Charlotte wasn't going to confront Henry about what she knew. She wouldn't do that to him. She'd let him believe that she was oblivious to his secret. She'd protect her best friend.

But she wished there was something she could do to lessen the weight of the burdens he was carrying. Kid Danger went up against criminals. That was dangerous work, even with the help of Captain Man. Now that she knew it was her best friend who faced those criminals, she had a sick feeling in her stomach. What if Henry got hurt?

That was a thought she didn’t want to further consider because she had no answer. If she saw on the news that Kid Danger had been hurt, she would know that it was really Henry, and then she’d feel guilty because she didn’t do anything to help him. But what could she do to help him? She wanted to, but how?

Charlotte sighed heavily and put her things away. She felt a weird sense of finality when she closed her notebook. It was like closing a book after reading it. It was complete. She’d figured it out. 

She got dressed for bed silently; there was a lot on her mind. She was so deep in thought that she didn't even notice when her Mom, Viola, had stepped in to say goodnight.

“Sorry, Mom.” Charlotte apologized, managing a small smile for her mother. “I’ve had a lot on my mind.”

Her mom quirked her eyebrow knowingly. “I noticed. It’s not every day you come running into the house at eleven o’clock at night.”

Charlotte winced when she looked at her clock and saw just how late it was. She was lucky her mother wasn’t grounding her right this second--unless that was what she had come to do.

“I didn’t realize it was so late, honest. I forgot my textbook at Henry’s house, and I needed it to--”

“Charlie, it’s okay.” Her mom interrupted, holding a hand up to stop her daughter.

Just hearing the nickname her mother always used was enough to calm Charlotte’s overworked mind. She sat down heavily on her bed, massaging her temples.

Normally, Viola would be angry at her daughter for disappearing into the night with no explanation, but looking at how exhausted Charlotte seemed, she couldn’t find it in herself to be anything but worried. It was typical of her daughter to be busy, to always look for a solution or a new way to look at things, something that kept her mind occupied, but this was something else entirely. This went deeper than just a setback on a new invention or a difficult mathematical equation. Whatever Charlotte was working on, it meant a great deal to her, and it was taking a great deal out of her. Viola noticed a crease in her daughter’s brow that didn’t seem to go away, and she didn’t like it.

She sat at the foot of her daughter’s bed. “What’s going on, sweetheart?”

Charlotte looked at her mom for a moment, trying to come up with a way to tell her what she was going through without actually telling her what she was going through. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

Her mom tilted her head, a confused look on her face. “You can ask me anything.”

Charlotte nodded, letting out a sigh that inflated her cheeks as it went. “What would you do--hypothetically speaking, of course--if you knew something about your friend that they didn’t want you to know and you want to use what you found out to help them, but you also don’t want to let them know that you know and are helping them because of what you know that they don’t want you to know?”

Viola stared expressionless at her daughter for five whole seconds. “What?”

Charlotte groaned in frustration. “I don’t know how else to word it.”

Her mom took a moment to think over what her daughter had told her. “I think I get it.” She said. She eyed Charlotte. “You say this is all hypothetical, right?” She of course didn’t believe that. Charlotte wouldn’t have put so much meaning behind her question if it wasn’t real. 

“Right,” Charlotte agreed. “Any advice--for this completely fictitious scenario?”

Viola nodded once very slowly, having to bite back a smile. “Well, in this, as you said, fictitious scenario, this person is my friend?”

“Your best friend,” Charlotte added a little too hastily. She hoped her mother didn’t pick up on it. 

Viola did, but she didn’t let on. “Since they’re my best friend, I would respect their wish to keep whatever it is a secret because I respect them. The reason they have for not telling me is surely a good one.” She studied her daughter’s reaction as she spoke, liking how that crease on her forehead seemed to ease up a little. “As for helping them, I would do everything in my power. I’m assuming whatever you know that they don’t want you to know is a lot to handle?” When Charlotte nodded, she continued. “Then I would try to make it easier for them. Maybe they aren’t including you--I mean, me in the whole ordeal because they’re worried about bothering me. That doesn’t mean they should have to shoulder it alone, though. If there’s some way I can make it easier, some way to anonymously help my best friend through a hard time, I’m going to do it, no acknowledgement needed.”

Charlotte let her mother’s words sink in. It was what she was already thinking, but hearing it from her mother helped convince her it was the right thing to do. The power of motherly advice, she supposed. 

“Thanks, Mom. That really helped.” Charlotte spoke, feeling like her words were coming a little easier now that she had started to figure things out again. She laid back in her bed, almost sighing in relief when she felt it’s softness on her tired body.

Viola smiled. “My pleasure, sweetie. I’m glad I could help with your hypothetical dilemma.”

Charlotte sucked in her lips, avoiding her mother’s knowing gaze, but Viola didn’t push any further. Charlotte appreciated that her mom respected her enough not to pry. Charlotte would come to her if she needed her, and Viola knew that. She didn’t need to force her daughter into anything.

Viola turned off the lamp on the nightstand and pulled Charlotte’s covers over her, happy that she still had small moments like these to be a mother to her daughter like she had been when Charlotte was younger and the ways of the world couldn’t touch her or her precious mind.

“Goodnight, Charlie.” She whispered.

“Goodnight, Mom.” Charlotte whispered back.

Her mother left quietly, gently closing the door behind her.

Charlotte studied the glow-in-the dark stars she had stuck to her ceiling. She’d arranged them all in the form of already existing constellations. She kept her eyes trained on Orion’s belt, remembering the hunter’s story. She thought it was a nice sentiment to think that death could mean the night sky gained more stars. Of course, she knew it wasn’t real, but it was still interesting to think about.

Think. Even the word made her head hurt.

She was tired. Today had been mentally draining, and she felt physically drained in consequence, but she couldn’t fall asleep.

As much as her mother had helped her come to a decision, she still had a lot of questions.

She was going to help Henry. That much she had settled.

But how could Charlotte help Henry, help Kid Danger, without jeopardizing his secret?

It was a long time before Charlotte’s eyes closed and her mind went to rest.

A/N Part 2: What did you guys think???? Like I said, this is just putting everything into place for the rest of the series! Again, give all the kudos and props and compliments and credit to @s4karuna because this was all her! I can’t wait to hear from all of you!!! :)))))) xoxoxoxoxo

[purplepatton]

heading straight for the castle - one

summary: logan sanders is a prince who wants nothing to do with the responsibilities the throne gives him. roman prince is a civilian who would give anything to be royalty. when an odd twist of fate leads them to meet, the pair realize something remarkable: they look exactly alike. from there they decide to switch places, wanting to see how the other lives. but a simple switch quickly becomes something more as things spiral out of control in the kingdom 

trigger warnings: none for this chapter, but if you need something tagged let me know!

artist: the stellar @keuwibird (find her amazing art here if you haven’t seen it yet,,, trust me it’s amazing)

beta: the amazing @logically-sided!! i want a give her a big shoutout because she helped me so much with this fic,, without her this fic would be shoved somewhere in the back of my wip folder lol. she was such a big help with everything, from fixing my grammer and giving me suggestions when i got stuck. she’s the real mvp,,, thank you again liz!!!

notes: so this is my big bang fic! i know i’m a little late posting (sorry about that) but better late than never! i’ve decided that instead of posting the story all at once, i’m just going to post a chapter every day (or every couple of days) because with school starting and work i don’t have much time to sit down and format everything properly lol (plus this gives me more time to make sure everything is ok lol) but, yeah! hope you enjoy it, because i had so much fun writing this story :))))

If there is one thing that Logan hates more than anything in the world, it would have to be sitting in on the council meetings.

Maybe it’s the way the members drone in pompous tones about issues that rarely hold value. Maybe it’s the way the members take ages to decide the proper course of action, when in reality it should only take them a few days. Or maybe it’s just because the meetings always seemed to happen when Logan was doing something he enjoyed, therefore taking away the precious moments he had to himself, which were few and far between these days.

Whatever the reason, Logan can feel his attention slipping as two of the council members begin an argument about taxes and the possibilities of raising them. It’s been the same argument all week; although this time the two decided to add insulting each other into the mix.

Logan can feel the disgust curling up in his stomach. He clenches his fist, and tries his best not to scowl outwardly because these people are supposed to be professionals. Yet here they are arguing like children. No wonder nothing ever gets done around here; everyone is too busy focusing on their own petty differences to make any significant changes.

Pushing himself to his feet, Logan storms out of the room and leaves the council to argue among themselves. Once he’s outside the doors, he leans against the wall and tries to bring his emotions under control. He needs to think clearly, and his emotions are only clouding his thoughts. He breathes out slowly and forces himself to relax.

“Wow.” A voice next to him says, sounding amused. “You lasted forty minutes in there. That’s got to be a new record or something.”

Logan has long gotten used to Joan’s habit of popping up out of nowhere, so this new appearance does little to phase him. Instead he turns towards his aide standing beside him and raises an eyebrow. “Only forty? I could have sworn it was longer.”

“Well, you know what they say,” Joan says, falling into step alongside of Logan. They head down the hall and away from the muffled voices of the council room. “Time flies when you’re having fun.”

Logan snorts, catching the sarcasm in their voice. Joan grins widely at Logan’s slip in composure, and Logan has to resist the urge to blame the council for his lapse in control. Instead, he rolls his shoulders back and asks, “Where to now?”  Because even he can’t keep his schedule straight in his head; not when there is so much to do and so much is changed at least five times a day.

“It’s one in the afternoon.” Joan says in reply, not answering Logan’s question at all.

That means that whatever is on Logan’s schedule next is something he should remember, and is probably something he’s been looking forward to. He furrows his brow and tries to think.

It hits him a few moments later, as they’re walking down the hall that eventually makes its way to the back of the castle. “Oh!” He says a bit too loudly, drawing the attention of a maid who happens to be hurrying past. He flashes her his smile usually reserved for the reporters before lowering his voice and addressing Joan. “I nearly forgot. I guess I really do need a break.”

“The great Logan forgetting something? Looks like it’s the beginning of the end.” Joan says with a faux expression of pity. “Best get your affairs in order because it’s all downhill from here.”

This time Logan manages to school his expression into something more neutral, although his lip twitches and betrays his amusement.

The pair follows the hallway until they stop in front of a rather plain door. It’s nothing special, just wood with a simple design carved into it. It’s rather out of the way from the other places in the castle, in a region that’s only really used by servants. Which makes it the ideal location for Logan and Joan.

Logan knocks on the door while Joan keeps an eye out for anybody who might happen to walk by. There is a slight pause before the door is swung open by a women with long brown hair and sparkling eyes.

She’s happy to see them, if not impatient. “It’s about time!” She huffs, dragging both Logan and Joan into the room and closing the door firmly behind them. “I was beginning to think the two of you would never show up!”

It is quite possible that Valerie Torres is an actual goddess.

She had worked in the palace as the head seamstress for many years, and had been with Logan for a good number of them. She was kind, hardworking and a rather good listener. Logan had spent so much time with her - what with all the suits and fittings he needed for the meetings and parties and interviews he needed to attend - that she quickly became one of the few people Logan actually trusted.

And when Logan had approached her with a half formed plan to gain some freedom, she had immediately offered her help.

Now she shoves a bundle of clothes into Logan’s arms and instructs him to change into them. He takes them and dutifully walks to the small corner of the room that’s sectioned off by a hanging sheet to change. He quickly swaps out his lavish clothes for the more ordinary polo shirt and jeans. He finishes adjusting his tie around his neck (an accessory he insisted on despite of Valerie's protests, because he is a serious person and serious people wear neckties) and steps back into the main section of the room where Joan and Valerie are waiting.

He stretches out his arms. “Well?” He asks. “How do I look?”

“Completely ordinary.” Joan drawls from where they are lounging on a chair.

Valerie frowns, walks over and musses up his hair out of it’s carefully styled position into a more casual and relaxed style. It’s not a complete change, but Logan knows from past experience that it’s enough of a change that people will need a second look to identify him. And the time it takes them to take a second look is just the amount of time he needs to slip away.

“There you go.” Valerie says, content with her work. She crosses her arms and narrows her eyes. “Are you sure you don’t want Joan come? I’d feel a lot better if they were with you.”

Logan rolls his eyes. Every time he goes out of the castle it’s the same song and dance. He’s had this exact conversation with Valerie many times, and each time it goes the same way. He doesn’t understand why Valerie expects his answer to change.

“I just want an hour to myself.” He says, frustration creeping into his voice. “I understand your concerns, but I’ve been doing this for so long now that the odds of something going wrong are infinitesimal.”

Valerie frowns because it’s not the answer she wants to hear, but there’s really nothing she can do to stop him. “Fine. Be careful.”

“You know me.” Logan says with another one of his faked smiles. “I’m always careful.”

The afternoon rush was in full swing, but Logan doesn’t mind the way people are swarming around him and pushing to get to where they want to go. He lets the flow of traffic push him along with the crowd,  not caring where he ends up.

It’s a nice sort of feeling, just wandering around and not worrying about where he has to be.

He’s visited this part of the city so many times that he could probably walk it blindfolded. As he rounds a corner in the crowd, he spies a small bookshop that’s a favorite of his. It looks rather empty, but Logan can’t remember a time when it had actually been full. It’s always half empty like this, which Logan likes because it means the store is quiet enough for him to focus on whatever he happens to be reading.

With his eyes locked onto the store’s sign Logan starts towards the store, not paying attention to where he’s actually walking.

Logan immediately regrets this decision as he proceeds to run headfirst into someone. It’s a painful collision, and Logan falls back onto the ground with a grunt. His glasses had fallen off in the process, and the world around him has melted into a blur of color and movement. He reaches around him, trying to find his glasses so he could see what was going on.

Someone is standing over him, and even though Logan can’t see a foot in front of his face, he assumes that this is the person he ran into because a steady stream of apologies is being directed at him.

“-wasn’t looking where I was going, are you okay?” A hand grabs his and hauls Logan to his feet. Logan was not ready for the sudden change of position and he wobbles slightly before regaining his balance.  

Logan tries to assure the person that he’s fine, but he can’t get a word in edgewise as the person babbles on. “You don’t look hurt, that’s good. I swear I didn’t mean to run into you, I was just in a hurry and you just sort of appeared and I-”

The voice cuts off for a reason Logan isn’t exactly sure of and he takes the opportunity to say, “I’m fine, thank you. I just need my glasses. You wouldn’t happen to see them lying around, would you? I’m afraid I can’t see anything.”

His glasses are shoved into his hand rather roughly and he pushes them onto his nose, feeling the tension that had been building up in his shoulders relax as soon as he was able to see. He looks at the person in front of him and the first thing he notices is the person’s expression.

He’s looking at Logan in shock and alarm. For a moment Logan doesn’t understand what could possibly be so worrying to this boy (who on a second glance looked around Logan’s age). Then he sees what the boy sees and his jaw drops.

The boy looks exactly like him.

Taglist (let me know if you want to be added/taken off): @basilstorm@artistfromthestars@storytellerofuntoldlegends@romananalogicality@verymuchanidiot @istolelittleredshoodie @dont-cry-croft @speechless-angel@thefamouszombiebouquet @wolfwalker100 @datonerougecookeh@virgilient @virgil-is-verge@impatentpending@zaisling@trixie85592 @sillysandersides @hamster-corn @adventurousplatypus @unring-this-bell @mymiddlenameisunderscore

[ninjagoruinedmylife]

"An Awkward Prom" - a.k.a thing i promised to to and i haven't sleep yesterday to finish it rip me

Aaaaalright folks, so. Today is ninjago oc day which i was really REALLY REALLY hyped for, considering the fact that i have an oc i developed lately. Her name is Ange and she is daughter of Karlof and next elemental master of metal (i think i mentioned her here once or twice tho). And, because we are dorks, me and @clumsinessinperson made Ange and Ali’s oc, Nozomi, meet and ~fall in love~ *dabs* So, to celebrate it, we did a kind of… collab thing for them?? Ali drew a beautiful fanart of this two and i wrote a short fic about a situation that is connected with it. I hope you’ll like it!!

(Also im tagging @evelinaonline bc she threw this event and also she really wanted to see what was this secret thing i was working on with Ali XD)

***

Ange realised that there is no turning back way too late.

She was pretty chill whole day - hell, she nearly forgot about this whole school prom. Two hours before it, when notification on her phone ringed, she nearly got a heart attack. She had to prepare and, to be honest, she sucked when it came to subject of looks.

She threw nearly most of the things from her closet while looking for a blue dress she bought a few weeks ago. After all, she found it in a washing mashine, all curled up with other clothes. Ange sighed deeply and ironed it as fast as she could, hoping that she won’t burn a hole in it. When she was putting the cloth on, her hands were trembling and she started breathing heavily. Now she regretted every decision she made about this event - signing in being the first one, buying way too high heels being the second, and inviting Nozomi being the third.

At first she thought that this will be great idea. They knew each other for so long, Ange never met someone who would understand her so much and stay with her no matter what… But after they said that they are going there as friends, girl started wondering if she didn’t want to invite him from other reason than “I don’t have anyone else to ask.”

Maybe it wasn’t too late to call him and tell that something happened and she can’t go to the prom. Maybe she could tell that she had an asthma attack and… No, he would still come to see if she’s okay. Maybe she could announce that her father came to visit… Bad idea as well, Karloff lived way too far to randomly come to her. Ange tried to come up with some kind of solution while she was brushing her hair, painting her nails, putting on makeup. She ended up with no ideas and completly awful eyeshades. She accidentally chose the brown ones instead of the silver ones and now she looked like if she played with dirt and didn’t washed her face in few days.

Damnit.

When she did everything in her power to save her image, phone ringed again. She grabbed it with one hand, the other still busy paiting her face, and she didn’t even need to put it up to her ear to hear a loud rock music and even louder voice of a familiar man.

“Ya ready, kid?!” Ronin asked in his usual manner. “We’ll be next to your house in about ten minutes, so I sure hope you are! See ya then!”

And that he hanged off.

Ange sighed and her determination only grew. After she finally finished her makeup, she put on some silver jewelery she kept with her since she had to first move to Ninjago City, and then run away from anacondrai warriors. It was the only thing that reminded her of her mum - a pair of round earrings, long necklace decorated with blue crystals, and three big rings engraved with some strange patterns. She used to have a habit of not going anywhere without them on. Not only from sentiment, though; she knew she could easily change it in deadly weapon in the time of the biggest need.

Luckily, today no one was gonna kill her (besides for her own embarrasment, of course), so she could wear it only for aesthetic reasons.

Ange looked at herself in the mirror and she even smiled. She wasn’t looking half as bad as she thought she would, to be absolutely honest. She still felt way too tall and fragile, but she could even pass as an attractive person! That was an achievement to celebrate, but she had no time to bake a victorious cake and open up the shampain.

She stood in front of the door, holding her phone tight and waiting for a call from either Nozomi or his father, but the first thing she heard was a familiar noise that went through the window.

“Hell no.” Girl mumbled under her breath when she turned around.

Right next to her balcony, floated R.E.X. - huge flying ship that belonged to Ronin. She blushed a bit from both fury and awkwardness, and walked towards it. Her neighbours were gonna look at her strange again.

“We don’t have a whole day!” Ronin yelled when she came close enough to hear his words. “Don’t act like if you are on a walk in a park, come here faster!”

Ange hissed with frustration and moved her hand a bit. Metal bars that surrounded her balcony suddenly changed their place and turned into a bridge for a girl to walk on a ship. She looked around, a little worried that someone saw her - good, no neighbour around. She still felt hella anxious when it came to using her powers around people she didn’t know.

She sat next to Ronin and looked at her right. On his other side was Nozomi, who waved to her awkwardly. His whole face was completly red, like if someone threw tomatoes at him. When Ange smiled and waved back, he started looking a bit more relaxed.

Ronin still hadn’t started flying again - he nodded constantly to the rythm of a very loud, very agressive and very scary (in girl’s opinion) song. This state would last even longer if Nozomi didn’t react.

“Dad”, boy sounded slightly annoyed. “Remember? We have to go.”

“As you said, we don’t have a whole day, sir.” Ange coughed due to how much smoke R.E.X. producted.

“Oh, yeah. Good idea, kiddos.” Ronin cracked a smile and then they started flying so fast that Ange got scared if they won’t end up dying soon. “So. How is this whole art school thing going, girl? I remember a good ol’ times when we didn’t had a time for a stuff like that, I’m telling you. You had to work hard from the day you were born, or you had to start stealing, and you probably know what I chose…”

And it felt like with every word, he got faster and faster.

Ange, who was now not even a little red, but completly pale, looked at her friend over his dad’s shoulder and whispered:

“Can we kill him, please?”

“We don’t know how to fly this thing,” Nozomi shook his head sadly. “We would die sooner than he will kill us.”

It was good that they mastered the art of reading lips movement through all this time. In other case, they wouldnt talk about subject like that near Ronin and, what’s even more important, they couldn’t understand each other. Meanwhile, man was still rambling about how much schools suck when you can become a criminal.

“Oh, didn’t he try to learn you? Maybe you know some basic stuff…”

“You forgot an important part - I don’t want my dad to die!”

“Who are you planning to kill?!” Ronin screamed in their terrified faces after the vehicle stopped in front of a huge building. ‘He turned off the music few seconds ago, so he probably didn’t hear much’, Ange realised and felt a big weight leaving her chest. If she survived this, she will survive tonight’s prom for sure.

“Uuuh…” Nozomi scratched the back of his neck.

“My teacher!” Ange interrupted. “My math teacher, sir.”

“I bet he’s a pain in the ass, huh?” Ronin laughed shortly. “Okay, kiddos, go. Have fun, don’t do drugs, and blablabla. I’ll come and pick you up at 11.”

If a moment ago Ange thought that this was gonna be the easier part of the evening, the fear of what was gonna happen returned when she came out of the ship. She stood in front of her school and Nozomi soon joined her. Everyone from her school, now dressed all elegant, looked at R.E.X. with open mouths. Which meant that they saw her as well. And they saw her with Nozomi.

Even bigger damnit.

“Is everything okay?” Her friend looked at her, seemingly worried. “You look nervous as hell.”

“I always AM nervous as hell, Nozomi.” She answered and then started walking towards the entrace. “It’s not a big deal today, though.”

“I hope so, we came here to… have fun. Or whatever normal teenagers do during proms.” Boy frowned and then blushed. “It’s so strange. I’m not sure if it was a good decision to take me with you, Ange. I’m a terrible dancer and I don’t know anyone here…”

“Hey”, she grabbed his hand. “I asked you to go with me because I know I’ll have fun with you. You are my best friend after all.”

“You forgot to add that I’m your ONLY friend.” Nozomi smiled mischeviously, and then he looked down at their holding hands with a frown. “Hm, won’t they all think that we are dating? You know, holding hands and stuff is usually pretty romantic, as far as I remember from all those movies.”

He laughed, as if he just said a good joke, but girl noticed a growing blush on his face a minute before anxiety hit her.

“Ugh, I-” Ange let go of his hand immediately, feeling a lump in her throat growing and growing. “I’m sorry for that, if I made you feel bad or-”

“I mean, it’s not like I don’t like it or something-” boy grabbed her wrist and looked down. “I just guess that at this point I can stand people looking at me because I’m with a person I’m most comfortable around, and not because I stole something.”

 She wasn’t ready to answer somehow for that and, luckily, she didn’t had to.

They heard a really loud rock music once again, and when they turned around, they saw Ronin running in their direction with a camera.

“I forgot to take a pic of ya two!” He took a few deep breaths and then got camera higher. “Okay so, stand somehow to look nice, and then say "cheese” or some other bullshit… Ready?“

They looked at each other with awkward expressions, but after a minute Ange placed her hand on Nozomi’s back and he wrapped his arm around her waist. Both awfully blushing teenagers tried to put normal smiles on their faces, and without any more word Ronin took a photo.

"Okay, now I’m leaving for real, I promise!” He screamed when he was getting back to his vehicle.

Ange sighed. Maybe this prom won’t be such a tragedy.

[the-original-starfruit-blog]

Lapidot Anniversary Week D3

“Love Thy Neighbor”

The perks of living in a refurbished barn in the middle of nowhere? Lots of serene quiet, an ideal atmosphere for making art, and homophobic neighbors to one-up with your completely, utterly, 100% platonic roommate.

Words: 3,481

Tags: romance/ mutual crushing/ homophobia/ human au/ gay pride/ artist!au/ music!au/ they each have a crush on the other and it's a grand gay old time

(my contribution for day three’s human au prompt !! and yes, this was preexisting cause i was lazy today and didn’t do a painting) @jenhedgehog @lapidot-anniversary-week

Lapis moved the curtain aside to peek out the window. She did a double take, quickly pushing the light fabric all the way aside to get a better view.

    “Oh my god,” she muttered, then louder: “Peridot, come look at this shit.”

There was a note from the other room, the sullen twang of a B flat, a hollow, vaguely discordant thump that sounded like a guitar being put down not as gently as it should have. Another sound, one of their chairs being scraped back, and Peridot came over.

    “Sorry – was I interrupting?” Lapis asked, and she shook her head grumpily.

Lapis suppressed a shiver as Peridot slipped under her arm to look out the window.

    “It’s fine. I wasn’t getting anything done anyway.”

She could feel the younger girl’s body heat radiating through her light summer clothes, the top of her hijab barely brushing Lapis’s shoulder.

    “So what’s outside besides the usual trees, grass and –“ Peridot stopped, her mouth dropping open. “Jesus Christ.”

    “Yeah, pretty much,” Lapis agreed, dropping her voice to a dramatic whisper. “Although it may not befit you to take the Lord’s name in vain.”

    Peridot snorted, elbowing Lapis in the side. She shook her head slowly as she continued to look outside at the house next door, which had been decorated apparently overnight with no less than seven oversized American flags, a large cross, and a wooden sign that proclaimed God Bless America!

    “I always knew our neighbors were wacked,” Lapis said, stepping away from the window. The butterflies in her stomach subsided, though she told herself it was the absence of Christian patriotism being shoved in her face rather than close proximity to Peridot and her warmth.

    “I mean, we’re two reclusive art students living in a barely remodeled barn, Laz,” Peridot said with a grin. “They probably think the same thing about us.”

    She let the curtain fall back into place and went back into the two mismatched couches they called the sitting area, picking up her guitar and letting a couple notes vibrate through the air. She extended one short leg onto the crate-turned-coffee-table and leaned her head back, emitting a sigh of frustration so heavy it was nearly palpable.

    “You need a break,” Lapis said. “Wanna come to the farmer’s market so we actually have something for dinner tonight?”

    “Why not,” Peridot said after a moment of hesitation, leaning all the way over the back of the couch and smiling upside down. Her glasses nearly fell off as she straightened with nervous energy and hopped off the couch.

    Lapis grabbed her backpack from the table and rummaged around inside, fishing out a few crumpled bills and a handful of change. Peridot came down from the loft a few minutes later with a similar yield.

    “Twelve seventy-eight,” she said. Lapis grinned and held out her hand.

“Twenty-six fifty,” she said triumphantly, and Peridot whooped.

    “Gourmet tonight,” she said, opening the front door and letting Peridot out first, “I’m thinking fresh pesto and –“

    They collided as Peridot stopped abruptly, and Lapis swore as she nearly bowled her over.

    “What –“ she began, and then Peridot bent to pick up a sheet of paper from their front step. Her eyes scanned it quickly and she handed it to Lapis, incredulous.

    “Add to the burn pile, I guess,” she said, eyebrows raised as she headed for the car.

    HAVE YOU BEEN SAVED? the paper bellowed, and Lapis allowed for a hearty eye roll before she continued to read. Most are unaware they are living in sin. However, it is not too late! The New Testament proclaims that everyone can be saved if they confess, repent, and believe – despite falling prey to sins such as thievery, copulation out of wedlock, homosexuality

    Lapis crumpled the paper in her fist, scowling, and threw it vehemently in the direction of the house next door.

    She got into the driver’s seat, slamming the door a bit harder than necessary, her cheeks flushed. Peridot, seatbelt already buckled conscientiously, looked over.

    “Do you mind if we make a stop at the paint store on the way home?” Lapis asked. An idea was starting, familiar inspiration blooming in the forefront of her mind. “I have some stuff I need to get.”

                                                                    *   *   *   *   *

The next morning, Lapis was up at dawn. She dressed quickly and headed outside, her bag of brushes and paint heavy on her arm. She had gotten seven sample-sized colors of housepaint for free, and she knew exactly how she was going to use them.

    She hummed as she pried open the metal lids with a paint-splattered screwdriver. She and Peridot had talked about repainting the barn since they moved in, and Lapis had always hated the drab gray that was peeling off the outside wall like long strips of elephant skin. She had been out with a ladder, an old toilet brush and a hose last night, scrubbing away the dirt and loose old paint to prepare the wall for new.

    By the time Peridot had woken up, gotten ready, realized Lapis was gone, and come outside to look for her, her work was done. With her hands on her hips and her back to their neighbor’s house, she stood and admired the seven stripes of color that radiated off the side of their barn. Peridot joined her, mouth agape.

    “You painted a twelve foot pride flag on the side of our house because our neighbors left a stupid flyer on our stoop?”

    Lapis nodded, unable to contain her grin. She wiped a smear of blue paint from her hand to her leg.

    Peridot’s serious facade broke, and she cackled, holding her sides and wiping at the corner of her eye.

    “They’re going to be so pissed,” she gasped eventually, patting Lapis lightly on the back several times, warm and sweet and congratulatory in the sun.

    “That’s the idea,” Lapis said, something in her chest glowing. “Let’s go have breakfast, I’m starved.”

                                                                    *   *   *   *   *

For two days they waited for a response, peeking out the windows every few hours. Bored, Lapis used the rest of the robin-egg blue housepaint to repaint a wall on her side of the loft, and Peridot whined about the fumes until Lapis mixed a pale purple and drove her outside by deciding to do a wall downstairs as well. She opened all the windows and laughed as she listened to Peridot strum her guitar, alternating between mournful minor chords and an angry blues riff that always ended with the accompanying lyrics fuck you, oh-ohhh Lazuli, fuck yoo-ouu.

    That evening, she went outside with purple paint under her nails and two sandwiches on a tray. She sat next to Peridot on their scratchy little back lawn, admiring how the last of the sunset looked coming through the tall weeping beech that watched over the black-eyed Susans in the corner. Cicadas sang in monotone at the few dozen fireflies beginning to stitch through the dark abovegrass.

    “Oh! Wow, thanks,” Peridot said, picking up her sandwich and humming appreciatively as she bit into it.

    “You should eat more,” Lapis said without thinking, knowing how easy it was to forget food when immersed in painting or sculpting. She hoped it was the same for Peridot’s music and that the younger girl wasn’t neglecting to eat on purpose.

    Peridot shrugged it off, her mouth full. Then she swallowed like she had forgotten something, her eyes wide.

    “I forgot to tell you! Look what they put up over there, it’s fucking terrifying.”

Lapis stood up and shaded her eyes, looking at the neighbor’s house. Her mouth fell open.

    There was a life-sized scarecrow decorated in painstaking detail to look like Uncle Sam, painted face accurate down to the bushy white eyebrows. It pointed menacingly in their direction, a red-white-and-blue top hat perched on its head. Yet another flag hung from an outstretched arm.

    Peridot was laughing silently when Lapis sat back down, wide-eyed and shaking her head slowly. She opened her mouth, but then just took a bite of sandwich, at a loss for words.

    “You know what this calls for, right?” Peridot asked, her eyes glittering. Lapis looked over and couldn’t help smiling at the four feet eleven inches of energy practically vibrating by her side.

    “Retaliation.”

                                                                  *   *   *   *   *

The next day Lapis woke up to something horrible poking repetitively at her ribs. She shoved the offending sensation away. It persisted, and she groaned, rolling over and cocooning herself in blankets.

    “Lazuli,” a soft whisper, then louder, “Lazuli!”

She sat bolt upright so suddenly that Peridot squeaked in alarm, jerking backwards and blinking innocently behind her round glasses.

    “Iss still dark ou’,” Lapis slurred irritably, glaring through squinted eyes in the lavender-tinted predawn light that crept shyly through the window. Peridot nodded.

    “I know, I have to get outside before the neighbors go to work so that they’re guaranteed to hear me, and I thought I could use a little extra time to ensure the plan goes off flawlessly –“

    Lapis laid a finger imprecisely over her lips in a shushing motion. The blanket slipped down a bit, and Lapis hiked it back up, feeling the cool air prickle her bare skin. Peridot stopped talking abruptly. Lapis couldn’t tell in the barely-there light, but she thought she saw a dark flush of color, flaming cheeks.

    “Get to the point?” Lapis asked, less cuttingly than she wanted, and her heart was racing so damn hard at the feeling of Peridot’s soft and slightly chapped lips on her finger that she was certain she wouldn’t be able to sleep again.

    Peridot grinned and pulled away from Lapis’s hand.

“What are the gayest songs you know?” she asked. Lapis blinked for a moment.

    “Power of Two by Indigo Girls, She by Dodie Clark, Jenny by the Studio Killers,” Lapis rattled off, then smiled a little as Peridot blinked in bemusement. “Why’d you ask me if you thought you wouldn’t get results?”

    Peridot shook her head silently and left. Her head stopped level with the floor as she descended the ladder, and she added a small, “Wow, thanks!” before disappearing below the edge of the loft.

    Lapis sagged back into the nest of her bed. She touched her finger with her other hand, gently rubbing the spot where Peridot’s lips had been – the spot that, for some elusive reason, seemed to burn.

    She knew it would be useless to try and get back to sleep, but she lay in bed for a while longer anyway before Peridot’s soft music drifted through the walls of the barn. She got up, pulled on a shirt, and went outside.

    Peridot was leaning against the wall of the barn underneath the enormous pride flag, strumming her guitar and looking at tablature on her phone. The sun was coming up, painting everything with a strangely delicate new light, rose-toned and downy gold.

    Peridot saw her and stopped humming under her breath.

“Lapis! Here, this is in perfect conjunction with my plan – quick, sit down, he’ll be coming out here any minute –“

    Lapis sat next to Peridot in the dew-sweet grass, shivering as the seat of her boxers soaked up the dampness with brutal efficiency. Peridot glanced up.

    “Cozy up, we have to put on a good show,” she said, and Lapis felt warmth blossom down her whole side as Peridot pressed against her. She sighed in sleepy contentment, her mouth opening in a jaw-cracking yawn.

    “So wha – aaah – what’s this… retaliation of yours?” Lapis asked. Her head drooped, and it seemed too much effort to raise it again. Peridot repositioned her shoulder so she could still play with Lapis’s head cradled by her neck.

    “I sit out here and demonstrate proof of my blatant protest of their homophobia by playing gay songs under our enormous pride flag. The message would have been sufficiently clear with me on my own, hence the plan, but your presence adds yet another layer of sapphic imagery.”

    Lapis smiled a little at the proud explanation. She was always a sucker for sapphic imagery.

    “Well-planned and meaningful composition,” she said through another yawn, “thought that was my job.”

    “You already did your job with the flag, painter,” Peridot said smugly, strumming a few chords, the notes harmonious as dewdrops in the fresh air. “Now sit there and look gay.”

    Lapis snorted. Her eyes slipped closed.

“Can do,” she thought she muttered, but she couldn’t be sure – everything was a bit dreamlike, a faded impressionist landscape of greens and sunrise hues, blurred through the squint of her eyelashes. Almost chalky with pastel strokes and colors. Peridot’s bare shoulder blushed warm under her sleep-soft cheek.

    It could have been hours later when Lapis first started to wake, surfacing from some emerald-weeded and waterlilied pond jeweled by music she couldn’t differentiate from a dream. She was slowly aware of being curled against something warm and small, and of the song filtering down through the sunlit water of her consciousness – a voice that Lapis rarely heard, less nasal than spoken word and much huskier than expected from such a tiny girl.

    She opened her eyes and was confronted by Peridot’s shoulder, the golden-brown expanse of her skin under the slim smile of her tank top strap. The song was barely audible over the sigh of the wind, but some lyrics got through.

    though she came from the sea

    her smile’s not for me

  a moonshell girl, translucent pearl

    my Lapis Lazuli.

Lapis tried to isolate the lurch in her chest but shifted by accident, her face slipping abruptly and her heart beating hummingbird fast.

    The guitar and Peridot’s voice cut off with equal suddenness, and Lapis felt her move. A poorly disguised note of panic, though she kept her voice quiet.

    “I – Lapis! Are you awake?”

Lapis pretended to stretch with a sonorous movement, as if she were escaping the syrup of sleep, and she must have done a moderately convincing job. Peridot relaxed as she hummed a noncommittally drowsy answer, straightening slowly against the wall. She faked a yawn and wiggled her toes in the grass in front of her, finally looking over at Peridot with a simulated tiredness.

    “Aaah shit – how long did I sleep? Did I miss him?” she murmured, pointing her chin at the neighbor’s house.

    Peridot looked relieved.

“Only by about an hour,” she said scornfully. “You’ll be pleased to know he reacted quite well to my ballads – other than his face bearing a striking resemblance to a pitted prune once he figured out my lyrics, there appeared to be no negative changes in his attitude.”

    Lapis snorted.

“No pitchforks, no torches, no village mob screaming to burn us?” she asked, and Peridot shook her head.

    “You can afford to joke, but we’re lucky,” she said darkly.

“Oh, lighten up, Miss Gloom-and-Doom,” Lapis said, resisting the impulse to kiss Peridot’s cheek - where in the blazing hell had that come from? - before she stood up, trying to hide her furious blush. “I can’t wait to see how they’ll top this one.”

                                                               *   *   *   *   *

The revenge was quick to come in the form of an obnoxious sign, proudly pegged into the center of the neighbor’s lawn – God Hates Gays & Liars.

    “Whatever that means,” Peridot had said contemptuously when she saw it. Lapis loathed that sign, and now a hot little worm of anger burned whenever she looked out the window.

    It took her four days to sculpt three detailed statues, each about eight inches high, and each depicting a different pair of women embracing in various positions, their nudity artfully displayed and accentuated with long, flowing lines of languorous motion. Peridot blushed heavily when she saw them.

    “Wow – I mean, those are gorgeous, but, uh, pretty explicit, Laz,” she said when Lapis emerged, smelling baked by the kiln and her fingernails crusted with brown-red clay.

    “I know. This should, ah, grant them a new perspective on what they’re protesting with all their righteous god-squad fuckery,” Lapis said, carefully gathering her sculptures.

    “Wait – what do you mean? These aren’t for around the house, or gallery pieces? You’re not selling them?” Peridot questioned anxiously, following Lapis as she made a beeline for the front door.

    “Oh, no,” Lapis assured her with a manic brightness in her eyes, “these are going straight on our garden wall. Those assholes will get a very personalized gallery viewing.”

    She marched out the door, Peridot spluttering in her wake, and set the statues facing their neighbors on the low stone wall that divided their two properties.

    The next day, the other house planted two beds of bright, unnatural-looking red-white-and-blue flowers around their sign and around their scarecrow. Peridot, her mouth twisted in unspoken distaste, set large pots of tall foxglove and marigold on the wall between the statues, partially blocking the view.

    Nearly a week passed without retaliation, and Lapis had begun to relax until she went out to water Peridot’s flowers one morning. The watering can toppled from her hand.

    One of her statues had been smashed, a thousand shards of clay scattered along the top of the wall. Some larger fragments had fallen to the ground, and Lapis recognized smooth brown limbs she had spent hours creating, a leg here, an arm there. Shaking with anger, she picked up the sign that had replaced the statue.

    Love is Love, But God’s Law is God’s Law. Keep Marriage Sacred.

She clenched her teeth, a sound of furious despair leaking out of her mouth. She threw the sign violently and fell to her knees, head bowed, slowly picking up the pieces.

    Peridot came out of the house, running across the lawn in fright. Lapis didn’t look up.

    “Laz! Lapis! What’s wrong, are you – “ Out of breath, she spotted the ruined statue and the sign. She slowed to a stop, and then hesitantly put her hand on Lapis’s shoulder.

    After a minute, she spoke again, her voice unusually gentle.

“We can file a complaint, maybe call someone? Destruction of private property on private property has got to be – “

    “It’s not about the statue!” Lapis cut her off, feeling hot tears welling behind her eyes. “I guess – it was never about the neighbors. It’s the principle of the matter. That there are still people like this, backwards-thinking stupid damn people who think it’s not okay for us to love each other – or – or that we’re broken or dirty or – wrong,” she finished, feeling Peridot’s hand drop from her shoulder. She felt a brief flare of panic – and then a small hand was in hers, pulling her upright, and then gentle fingers were under her eyes, doing their best to blot the sadness away.

    “Hey, hey. Hey,” Peridot insisted, touching Lapis under the chin to make her look down. “I know. Some people are shitty sometimes, and lots of people are shitty all the time. But,” and Peridot was leaning closer, leaning upwards, and Lapis’s heart was thundering in her ears, her eyes half-closed, lashes wet and still and sooty, “you have to remember that there will always be people like us, too.”

    She closed the distance between them, and Lapis had room for nothing except the music that seemed to soar from around them, rising like a sunburst in the middle of the hot summer morning. There was a chaotic, tumbling happiness too, the world feeling overwhelmingly warm and bright and wonderful. The smell of cut grass and flowers in Peridot’s hair. Lapis thought they could have stayed like that forever if she hadn’t heard the small cough from over the garden wall.

    She pulled back gently and turned her head.

Their neighbor, who Lapis had never seen before now, stood in the middle of his flower bed, a harmless-looking old man in baggy jeans and a red polo shirt. His mouth was open slightly, and an obviously forgotten hose hung from one hand, pouring a stream of clear water into a patch of already saturated grass.

    Lapis found herself smiling sunnily.

She pulled Peridot tight against her, lifting her up and kissing her deeply. She felt a shimmer of pride as the startled sound Peridot made initially turned into a quiet, satisfied hum. Her arms wrapped around Lapis’s shoulders. Lapis closed her eyes, gently stroking Peridot’s back, and let herself be absorbed in bliss until she heard a series of progressively less subtle coughs, then an offended “Hmmph!” and a door slamming in the next house over.

    They broke apart leisurely, Peridot grinning with the self-satisfaction of a cat as she slid back to the ground.

    “We should have done that a long time ago,” she said breathlessly, her arms still around Lapis’s waist.

    Lapis nodded and kissed Peridot’s cheek. Finally. It was warm and smooth.

“Can you help me take these statues in?” Lapis asked with a smile, touching the warm blush of freckles on Peridot’s face as she nodded. “I don’t think we need to worry about the neighbors anymore.”

[queen-of-deans-booty]

The Art of Babysitting

Characters: Dean x Reader, Toddler!Sam, Toddler!Castiel

Word Count: 3,428

Warnings: major fluff, toddler!sam, toddler!cas, very cute and adorableness.

Request: Can I have a dean x reader request where the Sam and Cas get turned into toddlers and dean and the reader have to watch them until the spell wears off and dean can’t help but be in awe of the reader as a mom (they totally have a crush on each other but don’t act on it)? Please and thank you if you get the chance xoxo

Author’s Note: I’m sorry if this is bad or a piece of shit. I wrote this, like, 7-10 hours ago at work. I hope whoever requested this likes it. If you want to be a Queen or a Dean Bean, let me know and I’ll add you to the lists! So sorry this is out so late, but I hope you like it!

Feedback the glue that holds my writing together

Tags at the bottom

It was a long and excruciating hunt that left you, Sam, Dean, and Cas all tired beyond belief. Cas made some of the pain go away but not much of it. You had to deal with witches which are always a pain in your ass, but this one was no different.

It was hard to pinpoint them but once you had them, killing them was easy. There were four witches and four hunters. You each had your part to play and when you killed your witch, you ran and helped Dean with his. Sam and Cas were upstairs with their so the logical thing was to help Dean who was downstairs with you.

Ah, Dean, you don’t know where to start with that man. He was an amazing one and you hate that he couldn’t see that. He had so much shit poured on him at such an early age it was inappropriate. A kid is supposed to play on playgrounds, cry over a scraped knee and worry about who’s lunches they were going to trade with at school.

But, with Dean, it wasn’t those things he worried about. He didn’t play on playgrounds, but in motel rooms with his younger brother, wishing he was out there. He didn’t cry over a scraped knee, he cried when he couldn’t shoot the monster right, costing someone to get hurt. He didn’t worry about lunches at school, he worried about if his dad was going to make it home safely.

He didn’t have the best childhood and you wished you could take it all away from him. You wished you could take the pain away. He didn’t deserve it but in his messed-up mind, he thought he did. You loved the man but you never would tell him. You’ve always been too shy and embarrassed to admit your feelings to him.

He was Dean Winchester, a man of very few words, always going after women each week, and a hard ass. You were an emotional woman, loves the idea of kids and a family, compassionate and caring. Not that Dean wasn’t those things either, but you two were different people. You didn’t like the things he liked (not as much as he wanted you to) and he didn’t like the things you liked (not as much as you wanted him to).

You were more like Sam, if anything, but you didn’t want Sam. You wanted Dean. No one, not even Sam knew how you felt about Dean but you always thought Cas knew on some level. He was an Angel after all. But, pushing those thoughts aside, you were tired after the hunt and the minute your head hit the pillow, you were out like a light.

Your room was right across from Dean’s and a whole other hallway separate from Sam. At the time you picked your room, you didn’t know Dean’s room was across from yours. Dean has the biggest room in the Bunker and the next biggest room was right across from him. You liked sleeping across from him but you hated it when he brought back a woman. You heard everything that went on in his room.

You were just thankful he was as tired as you were. You didn’t wake up once during the night. The only time you woke up was at 7am when you felt a small person bounce on your body. The more you woke up, you felt two small people on you, calling out your name to wake up.

“What the hell?” You muttered, forcing your eyes to open. Even though you got 9 hours of sleep, you were still very tired. You looked up to see two small children on your body, smiling at you. You just stared at them, no knowing who they were or why they were in your room.

“Wake up, Y/N!” The taller of the two said with a giggle.

“Who are you?” You asked. You sat up more, the sleep wearing off the more you stared at the kids.

“Sammy!” He said, pushing over the other child before climbing off the bed.

“Sam?” You asked, your eyes widening. You looked at the other kid and noticed his bright blue eyes and dark mop of messy hair. “Castiel?”

“Come on, Y/N, get up!” Castiel said, following Sam off the bed. You stayed frozen, not knowing what to do even though they ran out of your room. Cas’ voice was a lot higher than normal which was weird but you needed to find Dean. You just hope he didn’t turn into a toddler like Sam and Cas did.

You got up and threw on your cardigan sweater and slipped into your pink fuzzy slippers before rushing out of your room. You saw Dean’s door open and knew he wasn’t in there. He only had it closed when he was in there.

As you made your way to the library, you could hear raised voices and shuffling coming from the kitchen. You walked in the kitchen to see Dean trying to cook breakfast but Sam and Cas kept trying to get to the food. Dean tried to cook and fend off the toddlers at the same time which wasn’t working out too well.

“Seriously, Sam, get off me. I’m trying to cook.” Dean complained, trying not to burn his hands. It was like Sam reverted back to his child self not only in the physical term but also emotionally. You knew if Sam were really in there, he would be listening and back off to let his brother cook, same thing goes for Cas.

You smiled and leaned on the door frame, watching tiny Cas run to Dean, crashing into his legs to bug him some more. If this what Cas looked like as a child, then Heaven was lucky to have seen that.

“Cas! Stop crashing into me!” Dean complained. You weren’t surprised you weren’t freaking out more. You’ve all been turned into something more than enough times because of witches. You knew Dean might need your help so you stepped into the room and cleared your throat.

“Need some help?” Dean, Cas and Sam turned to you and while Dean had a relieved smile on his face, Sam and Cas ran to you to bug you instead of Dean.

“Pick me up!” Cas said, holding his hands up. Sam crashed into Cas, pushing him out of the way.

“No, pick me up!” Sam said, doing the same motions as Cas did. Cas got tears from being pushed and you knew you didn’t want a crying child in the Bunker. You knelt and held out your arms, smiling at them.

“I’ll pick you both up. Come here.” You said with a smile. Sam was in your arms first before Cas was. Cas seemed to be better than before and you held both kids to you before standing up. They were lighter than you thought they were going to be which was easier. You put them on your hips and smiled at them.

“Now, boys, is it nice to bother Dean when he’s making you food?” You asked, talking to them like they were in trouble.

“No.” Sam and Cas said at the same time, bowing their heads.

“Now, what do you say to him?” You asked, raising an eyebrow at them. Before you were ever a hunter, you worked with children. You babysat a lot of the times and also worked at day care for very young children. Now, this is going to pay off.

“Sorry, Dean.” Sam and Cas said, looking at Dean. Dean stared at you and the boys before nodding and turning back to cook. But he always kept you in his line of sight. You smiled and walked to the kitchen table, setting them on chairs.

You smiled and fixed Cas’ hair since it was still messed up from whatever he was doing.

“Now, be good while I talk to Dean, okay? You don’t want to be in trouble, do you?” You asked, your voice sounding like how you would take to one of your kids back at the day care.

“No.” Sam and Cas said, shaking their heads. You smiled and moved some of Sam’s hair away from his eyes.

“Good.” You turned around and walked to Dean, taking his hand before pulling him away from the stove. It was a good thing he was done with the food and that he turned off the stove. You pulled him just outside of the kitchen before looking up at him.

“Care to tell me what is going on?” You asked.

“How did you do that? It was impossible for me to keep them calm.” Dean said, peeking his head back in the kitchen to make sure they were behaving. They were still at the table but playing with each other.

“I used to work at a day care before hunting. Plus, years of babysitting. Now, explain.” You said.

“Something must have happened when we were with the witches. But I don’t know since they were upstairs and we were down. We can’t have Cas try and fix it since he isn’t capable to do it. Plus, I don’t even know where Rowena is. We just have to do a lot of research.” Dean said with a sigh.

“Great, you get started on that.” You said with a smile, going to walk past him but he stopped you with a hand on your arm. You looked at his hand then into his eyes.

“Why me? Why don’t you do the research. You like it more.”

“Fine, have fun with the troublemakers. Let’s see you try and last an hour.” You said with a smile, turning around and walking away from him.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Dean said, rushing to your front, putting his hands on your shoulders. He didn’t do well with children at all. He didn’t know how to handle them. The last time he took care of them is when Sam was a kid. But that was so long ago, that he forgot.

“I’ll do the research and you handle them.”

“That’s what I thought.” You said with a grin. Dean glanced down to your lips when he realized how close you two were. But he pulled away from you and walked into the library. You sighed softly, wishing he would just man up and kiss you. But, you wished you could man up and kiss him. Maybe one day you would.

You walked back to the kitchen door and peeked in, seeing Sam and Cas try and reach the food that Dean had cooked. You grinned and rushed in, scaring the two children.

“What are you doing?” They both squealed and giggled, rushing back to their seats. You laughed and grabbed the plate of food Dean cooked and walked over to them, putting the food on the plates that were in front of them.

“Eat up, boys, Dean is going to find a cure for you guys. As much as I love children, I do love you both when you’re my age again.” You said with a smile, taking some food and eating it. Sam and Cas dug in and even though Cas didn’t eat when he was his normal self, you guess it had something to do with becoming a child.

“What are we going to do today?” Sam asked as he ate.

“Well, I’d figure we let Dean do his thing in the library and maybe you, me and Cas can play a few games while we wait.” You said, picking food up from their plates. They swatted your hands and you smiled, stopping yourself from stealing their food.

“We should play with Dean.” Sam said.

“We can’t, Sam. You know he needs to study.

“Do you like Dean?” He asked, Cas looking at you as well.

“What? Where did that come from?” You asked, a nervous chuckle leaving your lips.

“We can see you like him.” Cas said, taking a slow bite of food.

“Look, it’s a bit more complicated than that.” You said, a blush reaching your cheeks and ears.

“But do you like him?” Sam asked.

“Of course, I like him. I mean, who wouldn’t? He’s an amazing man and it sucks that he can’t see that. I may even love him.” You said quietly. Sam and Cas were smiling widely and you were about to say something else when you heard footsteps coming to into the kitchen. You shut up and saw Dean enter with a book in his hands.

“So, I found something out.” Dean said, looking at the kids before looking at you.

“What’s going on?” Dean asked when he noticed the looks on your faces.

“Nothing, what did you find?” you said quickly, getting up.

“Well, it’s not permanent, which is good. It says here spells like this usually last a day, if not less.” Dean said, closing the book he was holding.

“Good, so, I guess we can have a chill day, then.” You said with a smile. Once Dean nodded, Sam and Cas got down from their chairs and ran out of the room, laughing and giggling like children do. You smiled and looked at Dean before running after them.

You were ahead of Dean and caught Cas since Sam was taller and faster. Cas laughed and you held him close to your body as you tickled him. He squealed out very loudly and tried to get away from you but you wouldn’t let him go.

Dean smiled, and he watched you be with Cas and how happy you looked. If it weren’t for the nasty hunt yesterday, then he might have thought you were happy being here, content with spending the rest of your life in this Bunker.

Sam ran over to help Cas and once he did, you caught him in your arms.

“Help, Dean!” You laughed as both children climbed over you to overtake you. Dean laughed and he picked up his brother, holding him to his chest. You smiled and got up, taking Cas in your arms. You looked at Dean and if someone were to walk in the Bunker now, they would see a normal family. A wife, husband and two boys.

If only you could have that with Dean.

“Come on, why don’t we watch something instead? Maybe a movie and have a calm time?” You suggested. Sam and Cas nodded and agreed with you.

“I guess we’re watching a movie.” Dean said. You and he brought Sam and Cas over to the living room before Dean placed Sam next to you.

“What movie, boys?” Dean said, finding that term not strange at all. It felt normal for him to say it.

“SpongeBob movie!” Sam said immediately after. You and Dean looked at him with confused faces. You didn’t peg Sam Winchester as a man who liked SpongeBob but hey, whatever floats his boat.

“You heard the boy. Put on SpongeBob.” You said with a grin, happy that you were going to watch a kids’ film instead of a movie that Dean always chose. Dean didn’t say a word as he put the movie in, taking his place next to you. But Cas scrambled to get to the spot first, just beating Dean. Dean chuckled and looked at you before sitting next to Cas.

The movie started playing and Sam was content on being in your lap. You absentmindedly played with his hair, scraping your nails lightly on his scalp. You started to braid his hair which he didn’t’ seem to mind.

Dean wasn’t interested in this movie at all but he loved the way you looked while watching it. It made you look younger and happier. Even though Sam and Cas haven’t been kids for long, he could see that taking care of them made you really happy.

Then he got to thinking what yours and his kids would look like if you two had some. He could picture you with little Mary and her older brother Robert playing on the swing set that he built for them, and him, after a long day at the mechanic shop, he would be engulfed in his kids’ hugs and you, who he would kiss so passionately, the kids would look away and yell ‘Gross!’.

He hoped he would be able to have that with someone one day but no matter who he was with, he could only picture you next to him.

“Dean.” You said for the tenth time. Dean broke out whatever trance he was in and looked at you before looking down at Cas and Sam who were sleeping, cuddling into your side.

“We should get them to bed.” You whispered.

“But it’s only the afternoon.” Dean said, confused as to why they were sleepy.

“So? They’re children.” You said like it was obvious.

“Children have tons of energy.”

“I don’t know what to tell you. Maybe normal kids do but this is a 34-year-old man in a 4-year-old’s body. Plus, however old Cas is. They must be tired.” You said, hoping not to wake them. They looked so peaceful.

Dean took Cas in his arms but Cas woke up, looking up at Dean.

“Go back to sleep, Cas.” Dean said. You took Sam in your arms and stood up, turning off the TV. Sam didn’t wake up at first but as you walked to his room, you could feel him stat to wake up.

“Can Cas sleep with me?” Sam asked. You looked down and looked at Dean who had his eyebrows raised.

“Sure, if that is what you want.” You said with a smile. You knew Sam and Cas were really good friends but they weren’t as close as Dean and Cas. Sam nodded and Dean followed you to Sam’s room, putting Cas in bed right next to Sam. They both got under the covers and you smiled, ready to leave but Sam stopped you.

“Can you read us a bedtime story?” Sam asked. You knew he never had a mother and maybe you were a substitute for that. You looked at Dean who nodded and you walked over to Sam, sitting on the end of his bed. With Sam and Cas so small, Sam’s bed seemed so big for them.

“I don’t have any books for you, Sam. But, how about this, you and Cas go to sleep and when you wake up, I’ll make sure to have a story ready for you. I know you’re tired and as soon as I start a book, you’ll go to sleep. Okay?”

“Okay.” Sam said, snuggling into the blanket. You got up and kissed his head, pushing his hair back. You leaned over more and kissed Cas’ head, smiling at the two boys.

“Sweet dreams.” You said, leaving Sam’s room with Dean.

“You’re really good with them.” Dean said when it was safe to talk. You smiled and walked down the hall with him.

“Thanks. I love kids.” You said, looking at Dean. You wondered what yours and his kids would look like. If you had a boy, you hoped he would look like Dean with his green eyes and tan skin but if it were a girl, you would still hope she had dirty blonde hair and freckles all over her skin.

“Y/N.” Dean said for the second time. You snapped out of it, glancing at his lips as he licked them.

“Right, sorry, spacing out there for a minute.” You nervously chuckled.

“Right.” Dean said quietly, walking a little more to you. You looked into his eyes and for a second, you thought he was going to kiss but you but you must have been dreaming. You looked down as you stepped back, rubbing the back of your neck.

“If you just stay here, I’ll be able to get them some books to read. I don’t think the lore books is what they want right now.” You said, backing up from him. He stared at you and nodded. You didn’t know if it was the way he was looking at you or what but you bumped into the wall and jumped, chuckling nervously.

“Okay, bye.” You turned around and rushed away from him, grabbing the keys to the Impala. Dean smiled and watched you leave. He heard you talking to Cas and Sam earlier. He knew you loved him and now that he knew your feelings, he would have to do something about his.

He needed to plan something just right for you. He needed to tell you how he felt.

The Queens:

@maddieburcham1 @ginamsmith  @mogaruke @whit85-blog @inlovewithbja @spn67-sister @kdfrqqg @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes @roxyspearing @supercalifragilistic26 @mishamigose @cobrakai1967@essie1876 @wishedworld @crispychrissy @laqueus-ludovicus@nostalgic-uncertainty @jerk-bitch-and-an-angel@potterhead1265 @starswirlblitz @untitled39887 @ta-n-ja @deans-fallen-angel-boy @scarletluvscas @notnaturalanahi @tahbehonest@stay-in–place @dreaminofdean @posiemax @donnaintx@mikey1822 @alexandriajanae4 @li-ssu @just-another-winchester @obsessivecompulsivespn@emoryhemsworth @newtospnfandom @mizzezm @goldenolaf25

The Dean Beans:

@akshi8278 @mega-mrs-dean-winchester  @winchesterandpie @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @carribear31 @tacklesackles@oreosatmidnight @not-naturalfangirl @missselinakitty @iam-a-cutiepie  @kristendansmith @milo-winchester-4ever @jensenackesl @codyshany316 @pheonyxstorm @helllonearth @juniorhuntersam @pouterpufftrain @ruprecht0420 @shut-ur-face-and-get-in-the-car @carriemichelle2012 @aubreystilinski

[just-french-me-up]

Triptych

Enjoltaire Week | Day 1 | Painting

Summary:  Three portraits are discovered in a hidden cellar in Paris, all three dating back from the nineteenth century. What's weird is that the man in the portraits looks an awful lot like Enjolras. What's weirder is that the paintings are all signed "R."

Tags: Modern AU; Reincarnation AU; Rated G

Word count: 3.5k

READ ON AO3

"Remind me why anyone would choose to watch what is considered to be the worst movie in history?"

Enjolras sat on the couch and balanced a huge bowl of popcorn on his lap. Courfeyrac's picks for movie night were usually more mainstream and understandable. Well. As understandable as romantic comedies could be, but at least they didn't require much brain activity. At least it allowed Enjolras to switch off his brain and shove handfuls of popcorn into his mouth while wondering how heteronormativity and dumb misunderstandings had become such crowd-pullers.

"That's because it's an experience!" Courfeyrac argued, slumping on the couch next to Enjolras and seriously compromising the balance of the popcorn bowl. "As your best friend, I just can't let you die a Room virgin!"

"What's so great about it, anyway?"

"Everything! The acting is so bad! It's like... You know how people say that if you let monkeys in a room full of typewriters the monkey would eventually end up rewriting Shakespeare? Well switch the monkeys with aliens who only have a vague idea of how human interactions work and you've got The Room! It's flipping fantastic!"

Enjolras shrugged. The enjoyment of intrinsically bad media was beyond him.

"There are some really interesting studies about trash movies and their ironical audience, actually," Combeferre chimed in as he joined them in the living room. He brought heavy-looking pizza plates that he settled on the coffee table before settling next to Courfeyrac. "Something about collectively liking something so bad that it gets good."

"Exactly!" Courfeyrac exclaimed, triumphant. "So sit back and brace yourself for this absolute masterpiece."

He switched on the TV and started rummaging through the pile of DVDs to find the right one. Automatically, the first channel popped up on screen. The news were still on and a generic news anchor looked at the three of them in the eyes.

"Wait," Enjolras said before Courfeyrac could switch on the DVD player.

"And tonight we come back on an incredible discovering in Paris earlier today," the news anchor announced, "when three paintings were discovered in a cellar in the Latin Quarter. The three works of art allegedly date back from the nineteenth century and predate the Haussmanian renovations of the capital. For more on this story, we go to Olivier Barron in the Latin Quarter, Olivier?"

The three paintings appeared on screen. Silence fell on the living room, leaving nothing but the artificial chatter of the television. In his seat, Enjolras turned to stone.

"-Twitter already rushed to title the works names such as 'Apollo in Red'-"

"Enjolras..."

That jaw line. That nose. The same eye colour. Enjolras' throat tightened. A cold shiver ran down his spine.

"Holy shit," Courfeyrac whispered. "Enj, it's you!"

Enjolras shuffled some papers around, trying to get his hands on notes he had written down the night before, somewhere around his third cup of coffee o'clock. There were some points about the upcoming the labour reform he really wanted to discuss during the meeting, if only he could find the damn thing. A pat on his shoulder took him by surprise.

"I think you're looking for this," Combeferre said, handing him the very notes he was looking for. "I forgot to tell you I took it. I just added a few remarks."

'A few remarks' in Combeferre's vocabulary entailed enthusiastic and colourful highlighting and additional notes scribbled in the margins that were illegible, including to Combeferre himself. Still, two minds were better than one, and Combeferre's mind was an undeniable asset. Enjolras took the revised notes with a smile.

"Thanks, I'll read though them."

Combeferre nodded and took his seat between Courfeyrac and Feuilly. Enjolras was the only one standing at this point, towering over his notes and the various things he had brought with him. The chatter began to fade. They all turned their attention towards him. The meeting officially begun.

"Okay, guys, so I thought we could start things off with some details about the labour reform and how―"

"Er-Sorry," Courfeyrac cut off, "but aren't we going to talk about the fact that they found paintings that look exactly like Enjolras?"

His remark was met with a few raised eyebrows and confused looks. Enjolras nervously raked a hand through his hair. Courfeyrac had not let this go since the night before.

"Oh come on! It was all over the news! Didn't you see it?"

"Courf, I don't think it's―"

It was already too late. All the others had already taken their phones out. Enjolras stood there awkwardly while they checked the news, and even more awkwardly when their eyes went from the screens to him in shock. Joly's jaw dropped.

"Oh my god, Enjolras, it is you!" he exclaimed.

"There's even the mole on your shoulder!" Bahorel added.

"See? It's him, I'm telling you!"

Emboldened by the number of allies on his side, Courfeyrac started listing the similarities between the painting and Enjolras, much to the latter's dismay. Why did it matter? Maybe he had a nineteenth-century look alike who had the same mole at the same place. So what? Enjolras let out a long sigh that was immediately drowned in the voices rising from the table. He shared a look with Combeferre, who picked up on his mood.

"Okay, but can we try to focus on the meeting?" Combeferre tried, rushing to Enjolras' rescue.

Almost like reprimanded students, the rest of les Amis sat back properly on their chairs and quietened down. Enjolras nodded in Combeferre's direction as a 'thank you'.

"So, as I was saying―"

"It's signed R," Feuilly said, deadpan.

"What?"

"It's signed 'R.'," he repeated. "It written right here, 'all three works are signed by the same hand, an unknown painter only identified by the letter R.' R. Like Grantaire."

There was electricity in the air. All eyes turned towards Grantaire, who looked as stunned as the rest of them. The room grew suddenly silent.

"What?" Grantaire asked, shuffling uncomfortably on his chair.

"I mean, you have to admit it's weird," Bossuet said.

Grantaire pointedly avoided looking at Enjolras in the eyes, running his hand through his curls. That was a lot of coincidences, even for Enjolras. For a second, his mind when for outlandish scenarios about how Grantaire could have planted those paintings there for whatever reason, before his logic took over. No. That cellar had been buried underground for more than a century. There was no way for Grantaire to know it was there! And experts had already dated the paintings!

Enjolras cleared his voice.

"Grantaire, did you somehow go back in time to paint me before abandoning those paintings in a random cellar?"

Grantaire snorted.

"No."

"That's what I thought," Enjolras said, giving Courfeyrac a meaningful look. "Now, if that's settled, can we go back to the labour reform and how it's going to affect us all?"

The rest of the meeting went without a hitch, with the usual amount of wits, snark, and dedication Enjolras cherished in his friends. Joly had been in charge of writing down all the ideas and suggestions for them to use as a starting point the following week. All in all, an evening well spent.

They all lingered in the backroom of the Musain for a while, talking about more casual topics while they stacked the chairs against the wall. The room emptied slowly. Enjolras was putting his things away in his satchel when Jehan came up to him.

"Hey. Can we talk?"

They looked a little hesitant. Enjolras smiled at them in an attempt to put them at ease.

"Sure. What's up?"

"It's about that thing with the paintings."

Oh. Clearly something in his expression had changed, because Jehan rushed to add:

"Just hear me out. It's just―Listen, okay? Is it okay if we sit?"

Enjolras nodded and sat on one of the few remaining chair. Jehan took another and sat across from him. They looked very serious, all of a sudden.

"Okay, so when I was in highschool, I participated in that poetry contest my school organised every year. So I wrote my poem and submitted it, but it was denied. Plagiarism. Even though I'd written it all myself. I didn't get it, so I asked what the original poem was from, just to see it for myself. It was from an old poetry collection from the nineteenth century, a book that had been sleeping in the Parisian archives for decades. And my poem was in there. Word for word. And the rest of the book was just... me. My style. It was like an out of body experience."

Enjolras listened intentely. He didn't know what to think about it. It was too weird. Stuff like that... It was only weird coincidences, right? What was it that Courfeyrac said about monkeys and typewriters? Still, he could not deny the sick feeling weighing on his stomach.

"Do you know who wrote the poetry collection?"

Jehan shook their head.

"I asked, but the people at the archives just told me it was seized propriety from someone who had committed treason. Then maybe someone deemed the poetry good enough to archive it. There was no name on it. The last poem was written in 1832, and the pages are all blank, so I guess the poet was arrested around that time."

"Sounds like a free thinker," Enjolras smiled. "Maybe you have more in common than poetry. So you think it's a similar thing? That it's a coincidence?"

"I don't know," Jehan sighed. "But it's weird, right? I mean surely it means something. Stuff like that wouldn't randomly pop up unless there was an explanation behind it, even if it's not a scientific one."

That where Jehan differed from Enjolras. While Jehan accepted the metaphysical and the paranormal as a natural aspect of life, Enjolras' mind favoured more rational interpretations. It was weird, for sure. But people simply did not exist in two timelines. That didn't happen. They would know about it by now if it existed.

Enjolras rubbed his neck. It was stiff from staying up too late doing research on that fucking labour reform.

"I don't know what to tell you, Jehan. It's just beyond my understanding, you know? Maybe someone really looked like me, two hundred years ago. It happens. People have look alike, even today. As for the poem... I just don't know."

Jehan smiled at him softly and rubbed his shoulder.

"It's getting late, Enj'. Courf and Ferre are waiting for you. Get some rest, okay?"

"Thanks, Jehan. I'll try."

When Enjolras went to bed that night, he dreamt of a book of blank pages, and when he looked down, he had a rose in his breast pocket. The colour had bled onto his shirt, and the stain kept growing, and growing, and growing.

When he woke up, he could still smell a hint of gunpowder.

The following days were spend avoiding the news, which was highly inconvenient because a) Enjolras liked to keep himself informed and b) you never know how much news exposure there is until you try to avoid it. Enjolras just couldn't bear to see his face on the screen, or whoever's face it was. It freaked him out. It would have freaked anyone out. He didn't even know how Jehan coped with the fact that there was a book out there that mirrors their lyricism.

Eventually, he resorted to studying in his room, in the hope of avoiding the clutter of thoughts that raged in his mind. It's nothing, his reason kept telling him. In two centuries, at least two people were bound to look alike.

Still, he couldn't focus. He kept rereading the same sentence from his textbook over and over, none of it making much sense to a very noisy mind. Frustrated, Enjolras snapped the book closed and leant back against his chair. On his desk, his laptop was open on the google search page. He hesitated. Reason held back his hand, but another voice whispered to his ear. What if there was really something going on? Curiosity killed the cat, reason retorted. Enjolras took a deep breath.

Fuck it.

A quick search informed him that the paintings were being studied by experts in Paris, so that they could properly date it. A website had uploaded close up photographs of details, ranging from the golden laurel wreath crowning the model's head to his beauty marks. An uncomfortable feeling weighed on Enjolras' stomach. Even the details were uncanny.

The signature was studied under every angle, with matching hypothesis about who the painter could have been according to the loop of the R. People had really spent time on this. Enjolras was a stranger to art history and discoveries, so perhaps those paintings were a gold mine for people who worked in that field. Perhaps it was their Howard Carter discovering Tutankhamun's tomb moment.

He went back to the google homepage and typed "1832 France." The first results mentioned something about a cholera epidemic. Enjolras kept scrolling until something caught his eye. Republican Insurrection in Paris, 1832. Jean Maximilien Lamarque. He clicked the wikipedia link and started reading. Barricades, students, National Guard, Faubourg Saint-Martin... His eyes were glued to the screen.

That's something I could see myself participate in, Enjolras thought, before the uneasy feeling overwhelmed him again. That event felt too close for comfort. Yet, Enjolras kept on reading.

A knock on the door made him jump. He almost knocked his chair over, and himself with it. The sky had gone dark outside, and Enjolras's eyes had the greatest difficulty to adjust to the darkness. Someone switched the lights on.

"Are you okay?" Combeferre's voice asked.

"Yeah. I've just been staring at the screen for too long," Enjolras said, rubbing his eyes.

Though blurry, his vision got slightly better. For one thing, he could see Combeferre standing by the door. He was holding steaming mug in each of his hands.

"Is that coffee?"

"Infusion, actually," Combeferre smiled. "I came to see if you wanted one. You've been in here for hours, we were starting to get a little worried."

"I'm fine. I was just reading stuff."

Enjolras scratched his scalp and lifted his arm to accept Combeferrre's plant water. It wasn't coffee, but he had to admit he was parched. Combeferre sat on the bed next to him.

"Anything interesting?"

"Just history stuff. Very educational."

Enjolras closed the various tabs he had opened on the June Rebellion, accidentally missing the one about the three paintings. "Apollo in Red." The name seemed to have stuck.

"I thought you weren't interested in those," Combeferre pointed out, taking a sip out of his mug.

"I don't. I mean, I do but it's not... It's weird, right? I keep telling myself that it's not weird and that those kind of coincidences happen all the time, but it's still weird."

"Well it doesn't happen every day, that's for sure."

There was a moment of silence during which Enjolras sighed and dragged his hand across his face. His mind was buzzing.

"You look like you could use a break," Combeferre said, giving his shoulder a light squeeze. "Come. Courf is making dinner."

Enjolras nodded slowly. Maybe he did need a break. He followed Combeferre to the kitchen, holding his warm mug against his chest. In his room, Apollo in Red shone in the dark.

A few weeks passed. Enjolras still heard about Apollo in Red here and there, but it was quickly replaced by other, fresher stories. His heart still made a double back-flip when he heard that the experts had situated the completion of the pieces around the 1820s early 1830s. After that, he did his best to direct his mind towards the future to avoid dwelling on the distant past. Whatever happened to that sitter or the poet of Jehan's book, they were long gone. There was no time like the present.

Yet, in spite of his best efforts, Enjolras couldn't seem to escape the past. One morning, Courfeyrac presented him with a museum ticket, sliding the piece of paper across the breakfast bar.

"Thank you?" he said, a little confused. And sleepy.

"They're putting the paintings on display today," Courfeyrac explained. "Now you can see them from up close."

Enjolras' gaze went from Courfeyrac to the ticket. It was too early for this. He didn't even know if he wanted to be awake right now.

"Or you can just go to the museum after class," Courfeyrac shrugged, since Enjolras hadn't said anything. "For fun. Or whatever you go to museums for. Elevate your understanding of humanity, or some shit."

Enjolras let out a hoarse chuckle in his mug.

"I guess I'll consider that as a cultural outing. Thanks, Courf."

He carried the ticket around in his wallet for the rest of the day. By the end of it, Enjolras had forgotten up to its existence. It's only when he looked for his métro pass that he noticed the piece of paper stuck between his ID and his insurance card. The museum was only three stations away. For a minute, Enjolras stood there, debating whether or not he wanted to dive head first into the uncanny and the unexplainable. He looked at his watch. The museum was closing in an hour. The past can't hurt you, he thought as he got into the coach, waiting through the three stations.

There weren't as many people at the museum as he had expected. Perhaps because closing hour was slowly but surely ticking by. Enjolras didn't need to look for the painting for long. They had made sure to guide people right to the jewel of the exhibition. As Enjolras entered the oval room where the paintings were kept, his attention wasn't directed to the paintings, but to a familiar face, standing a few yards away.

Grantaire.

Enjolras' heart did a somersault. There was something about seeing Grantaire here, right next to Apollo in Red, but Enjolras couldn't quite pin point it. One of his hands  held nervously on to the strap of his satchel as he came closer.

"Hey," he said, trying to sound casual, though the atmosphere didn't quite work in his favour. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"Well, apparently I painted these, so I thought I might as well go and see them. My first exhibition. It's a very emotional moment."

Enjolras could tell he was joking, or endeavouring to. Maybe that's how he dealt with the uncanny and the unexplainable. On the wall, one of the paintings stared back at him. It was like looking in a mirror, but with a 180 year reflection delay. Enjolras lowered his eyes, stared down by his own image.

"Did Jehan tell you about their poem? The one that got denied for their poetry contest?"

Grantaire nodded, still looking at the paintings.

"Do you really thing it's remotely possible that this is me?"

"Maybe," Grantaire shrugged. "Why not?"

"Because it doesn't exist! It just doesn't happen like that. There's no way that could be me. I'm me, I am one person."

Voicing all the thoughts and doubts that had been reeling in his mind for so long felt liberating, though he had to keep his tone in check. Grantaire smirked at him.

"Now who's the skeptic, Apollo?"

"You can't be serious. It doesn't make sense."

"We're on a blue ball adrift in the universe, rotating around a giant ball of fire that will swallow us all one day. Nothing makes sense. Me painting you almost two centuries ago makes more sense than that."

Enjolras opened his mouth, but realised he had nothing to say to that. Yes. Maybe things didn't make sense. Maybe trying to make sense of it didn't make sense. He took a couple steps back and sat on a plastic bench. Grantaire followed him.

"So what if this is actually me? What does that mean?"

Grantaire shrugged.

"We may never know. But I have to say, my shading game was on point on that one."

"It's very beautifully done indeed," Enjolras agreed, giving him an amused look.

"Thank you."

"So that means we were close, right? If I sat for one of your pieces. Well. Three of your pieces."

He didn't really know if he was joking in all good fun or actually talking seriously anymore. For some reason, it felt right.

"Close enough for you to accept being drapped naked in a red sheet. It'd say that's pretty fucking close."

"How close?"

"Very close."

As close as they were now. Enjolras realised his hand was almost touching Grantaire's. To his own surprise, he found that he didn't mind it. On the contrary. That too, felt right.

"How much do you know about the June Rebellion?" Enjolras asked.

"What I've read online, why?"

"Well, I thought maybe you'd like to hear about it. It's all fascinating stuff. Maybe around a coffee, or something?"

He barely recognised the chirp in his own voice. Grantaire looked at him, as though he couldn't believe the words Enjolras had uttered. His face softened a second later.

"Yeah. Coffee sounds nice."

[lulusoblue]

Headcanon: Casey Jones being on the Autistic Spectrum

I see plenty of neurodivergent headcanons for the turtles galore, but never for any of the human characters. In all honestly, saying one of the turtles is on the autistic spectrum is iffy and uncomfortable to me at least because it’s sorta implying that said autism would be the result of a mutation caused by an external element. Because it’s not like we’ve had shit over some dickhead portraying autism as a side effect of vaccination rather than it being a mental disorder that’s as embedded in our genes and beings as internal organs and a massive part of who we are as people. also fuck you wakefield

And so thinking about it more, it just clicked that Casey could fit an autistic headcanon. So here’s a list of things about his character I believe fit such a headcanon based on personal experience and from other autistic people I’ve known:

• Apparently the writers put him at around 17 years old, a year older than April, with some intent that he might have been held back during his education (probably to tie into him seeking April for tutoring). I don’t have any knowledge of American education beyond secondhand information I may see on the internet or pop up on my dash, so my only knowledge of being autistic in a learning system built around neurotypical students is from brief personal experience. Neurotypical education sucks when there isn’t enough awareness of learning difficulties or the teachers don’t have enough training to know how to handle it. Casey might have trouble with his education because he may have difficulties trying to pay attention and absorb information without the tools or support to help him focus. This can get you labelled as just bad behaviour or being dumb/stupid. I sure as hell wasn’t able to follow lessons in school until I finally had someone who listened to why I didn’t like lessons and found them hard to understand. We don’t have any clue as to when Casey was held back if this concept still applies in canon, but being held back might not mean he just didn’t care to study or doesn’t have the smarts to pass. Granted it gets harder to care about learning when you have trouble understanding and your educators don’t bother to help you so much as call you lazy. Which brings me to my next point.

• Casey’s interests and knowledge in gadgets, vehicles, and metalwork. The boy knows his stuff when it comes to Mad Max-looking makeshift weaponry and devices, which is clear from his decked out bike and the crude taser that he’s managed to strap to his arm without frying himself. He worked with Donnie to rig up a supercar as a hobby and helped pimp up the Party Wagon. And he’s still flunking trig. (so’s April but shhhhh that was just a Season 1 thing) Casey seems like a very visual learner in this case: he picks up on things through observation and is self-taught on what interests him. For all we know he figured out cars while being cooped up on a farm with nothing better to do while one of his terrapin friends was in a coma. I’ve ended up doing that with some programs I use or with life stuff in general. Manuals are boring and slow and easy to lose focus on. Maybe look up a couple of video tutorials for something but most of building skills and interests is self-teaching and trial-and-error. (my experience of video editing and art programs is “what’s this do and can i figure out what makes it tick without looking it up”, which is an approach to new interests I think also fits Casey). Likely not something specific or common in autistic people, but figuring things out in such a way has been a thing that popped up for me and a couple of old friends. What I’m saying is Casey made that new mask after half-watching a couple of cosplay tutorials and winging it with some scrap.

• Casey wears those gloves and that headband all the damn time. Even when he’s eating pizza, he’s eating it wearing gloves that have probably been worn working on his bike, wielding a hockey stick/baseball bat that’s likely bashed sweaty heads in rain two weeks ago without being washed, and just the day-to-day things that would get those gloves sweaty or grimey or icky. He wears that headband at all times, even when he’s wearing a mask thank would probably fit better if he took that band of material off of his head. What do his headband and gloves also have in common? They’re articles of clothing that usually have elastic to stay in place. Sure canonically they’re just there to fit his grungy look (get to that hoodie in a second), but digging myself deeper into this headcanon i got to thinking they might also serve sensory/stimming purposes. If there’s something that I think is one thing autistic people have in common or a feeling they share, it’s fiddling/fidgeting and certain sensory things to some level: e.g. I usually wear loose tops because i like fiddling with the hems and corners of my clothing. Some people wear tight or loose clothing based on how they process the sensation of skin against different type of clothing. Casey never taking off his damn gloves or headband could be seen as him liking the sensation of the elastic in them around his wrists and forehead. He probably pings the elastic as well because that’s fun too when you’re bored and need to fiddle.

I refuse to believe that he has never washed that hoodie. I mean yeah the turtles have smelt worse living in a sewer but Casey is a Human who has spent most of his life around Humans and his Human father would probably have burnt his clothes by now if Casey never washed the stink out of them. That and Casey is a hockey player, and I imagine stinking clothes is an annoyance that comes from most sports. Those paint stains on his hoodie I think he’s leaving there on purpose, like he’ll wash his clothes but no dad his clothes get washed separate because he can’t wash his clothes with your clothes because you use stuff that lifts stains and that’ll get rid of the paint splats that he likes on his clothes and why does he want paint splats because he does and they look nice and he probably won’t get the same splatter pattern again if he tried and shush dad this hoodie stays the same because it has to because shut up. We don’t really see Casey tagging anything regularly so unless it’s because they don’t change the texture on animated models because what’s the point it’s not a cgi blockbuster we’re making here Casey probably keeps his paint splattered hoodie like that because it looks nice and it’ll stay nice dad. It’s a Thing.

• Casey constantly refers to a love of heavy metal music. Too much sound for an autistic person can end up in sensory overload and that fucking sucks. And in general just the world around you can suck and you wanna shut it out because ugh. You know what helps? Headphones and really loud music. What genre has really loud music? Yup.

Casey having a social battery. He just pops in and out of the show all the time because the writers dunno what do with him shrug so yeah. Autism likes to play up the variance of a person’s social needs and wants and limits. You want to be friends but you just can’t be asked to be with people right now. You get this surge of wanting to hang out with friends and be loud for a bit, and then you have this mood where you just want to not exist or just not do things. Basically like this:

“raph great to see you i love your face” “whatever weirdo”

[dude where are you] [home] [you’ve been at home for three days] [i’m waiting until i stop hating faces to talk in person again]

If anyone has any other things to add to this headcanon, please do share/add onto this post. Now if you’ll excuse me i’m gonna dig myself further into this headcanon.

EDIT: I forgot another point I wanted to put in and also @a-specforest added some cool addon tags so broski if you don’t mind imma put them here too

• #okay so one symptom of autism is speaking in ’pre learned phrases’ #and casey has a ton of catchphrases • #sometimes speaking in a tone that doesn’t match the conversation? #casey does that a lot too • #he seems to have a few hyperfixations #in season 2 he’s practicing hockey late by himself #and the working on cars that you mentioned

1) how else would he come up with Goongala of COURSE!!! That and pre-learned phrases are great to have when spontaneous speech is a bitch and you trip over words and stammer. not that i would know anything about that nooo We’ve already heard him muddle up words in the moment (I think he said jumbled up “racism” later in S4)

2) Tone control is something I’ve dealt with, too. Apparently I have resting bitch voice so I’ll say something and get asked if i’m in a bad mood or snapped at for “being rude”. Also knew other autistic people who would have ranges of tones in certain convos too, e.g. one always sounded happy and chipper and laughed a lot even when something wasn’t particularly funny, one person’s tone of voice went everywhere it was hard to tell what their feelings were even with the context of conversation. Casey’s attitude and tone in conversation, even serious ones, might be an indication of that, I agree.

3) Oh yeah, he definitely fits hyperfixation. There’s his hobbies, and also there’s how he sees his future. When he and April are in the park for their first study session, he’s got two clear ideas for what to do with his life; Hockey Star or Bounty Hunter. With him immediately trying to play hero when confronted with a walking talking tank of organs his bounty hunter fantasy may have something to do with it. He’s reckless and headstrong, but it also lends to his fixation on one of his dream careers; if fighting a monster that he’s confronted with something he sees as a step to bounty hunting, he’ll likely put up his dukes and get melted because ACID HANDS I have definitely known people who were determined on doing something because it was what they wanted. It might’ve come across as stubbornness or rigidness depending on what it (even something as simple as just doing something like a chore a certain way), but in context of ambitions and their future they were pumped as hell to take the steps they needed to take to do what they liked and what they wanted for themselves. They didn’t care about what people thought of them even if they didn’t pass as neurotypical and would get stares on the street. Not sure how they would react if say culinary career path involved fighting mutated food, but considering the show itself is an action-adventure cartoon with mutant turtles I think we can give Casey a pass on that lack of realism there. we begrudgingly give the writers passes all the time so why stop now

Aaaand the point i forgot to put in my original post:

• Casey’s less-than appropo reactions or attitudes in situations possibly links to difficulty reading people, being empathetic or understanding social cues/priorities. Reading and understanding facial expressions and body language can be a bitch if you’re autistic. There’s even a learning software program a couple of students from my school would use in one-to-one sessions that specifically addresses this for those who find it THAT hard to tell what another person is expressing. It’s especially troublesome because empathy can be a confusing thing too, because it can go from you not really having any empathy to you having so much that you think you’re hurting the feelings of a pair of shoes because you chose to wear something else that day which totally isn’t the extreme i experience at all hahaha help i’m mentally apologising to a boot Casey doesn’t appear to take things seriously in dangerous circumstances the majority of the time, nor does he appear considerate of others at other times. It’s a lot of confidence and certainty that things will turn out OK (with a heaping spoonful of “self preservation instinct what self preservation instinct”). It’s not always an appropriate attitude to make jokes and quips and tease and make jabs at people, but he HAS taken things seriously and shown worry/sadness at appropriate times. He’s really quiet and almost numb when the subject of his family’s fate comes up in Invasion, and he was surprisingly the only one to be most affected after watching someone get mOLECULARLY RIPPED APART. From experience, both personal and through observation, figuring out how to react and respond to things when you don’t really know how to is a pain in the ass and often distressing because you feel bad for not knowing. Sometimes you resort to humour to lighten things and try to ease tensions, sometimes you have an internal screaming match with yourself and panic and go through an archive of potential reactions because what the fuck would apply here, or sometimes you just shut down or just don’t react like it’s not really a big deal or even happening. Or you end up going through verbal barfing and dig yourself deeper into a hole of instant regret because you’re making yourself look like an ass when you don’t want to why is this so hARD. I think Casey would fall into the “address things with confidence and cockiness” kind of reaction pool, because it’s an attitude he’s comfortable with and how he better deals and processes things. It’s not to say he doesn’t have some empathy or disregard for other people’s feelings (hello Buried Secrets), it could be that it’s not comfortable territory for him even when he wants to be serious/emotionally supportive. did any of that come out right fffffffffU

• Casey’s small social circle and it possibly being by choice. His best friends are the girl who he met through tutoring in a subject she was failing before and four giant turtles who are trained in ninjutsu. He only mentions having one friend before, a friend with whom he had a falling out, and he didn’t seem to like Irma all that much (you can say it’s because “she’s a third wheel on dates” but even outside of that he didn’t seem to get along with her much). With things like hyperfixation and the like making a vast group of friends is tricky. Being autistic might mean the friends you choose to make have lots of interest in common with you rather than just being someone you get along with. Not to say being autistic means you are limited to a few friends. I’m no expert on autistic social lives, I can only draw from firsthand experience. I found trying to maintain a number of friendships difficult and often overwhelming so at some point in school I stopped trying to make friends, with the exception of a couple of people I liked and had common interests with. I chose to keep my social circle small because the thought of making lots of friends and keeping in touch with them all and remembering who likes who and what overwhelmed me and made me nervous as a child. Still kinda leaks into adulthood because I don't have many friends outside of the company I keep on tumblr. In this autistic headcanon, Casey’s very small social circle could be by choice. He doesn’t mention having any other friends besides one previously, fixates on April (and yes I am knocking the romantic aspect out the window for this) after approaching her for tutoring because he found her cool and likes hanging out with her (and probably saw kicking a mutant’s ass as common ground/bonding too), hung out with her even when a person he wasn’t keen on (Irma) was also there, and even when he’s introduced to the turtles and befriends them he still appears to be platonically closest to April arguably, depends on how the writers want to write him that week. Considering how the love triangle bullhockey has been given little to no reference as of late, his concern for April in Tokka vs the World and his annoyance at Leo’s teamup picks in Tale of Tiger Claw might be more because he can’t be with his favourite person. (and yes that can be a Thing too) He might also fixate on having April’s company because she isn’t much of a social butterfly herself outside of the friendly neighbourhood mutants living in the sewer. Compare how many times we see him hanging out with the turtles minus April versus when April is present.

[armadil-lo]

Rules: tag 15 people at the end of this challenge!

I was tagged by the ever-lovely @miss-ingno :D <3

Five things you’ll find in my bag:

(I don’t usually carry a bag lol so I can’t make it to five things haha) -phone -wallet -notebook and pen if it’s a uni day

Five things you’ll find in my bedroom:

-five big Rooster Teeth posters -a PS4 with no TV to connect to -a desk that is permanently messy -probably a powerade -a few aesthetic decorations that my sister collects for me lol, eg: a wooden letter ‘L’, a plaque with a quote on it, a purple bottle with star-shaped lights inside it

Five things I’ve always wanted to do:

-speak Spanish fluently -finish a multi-chaptered fanfic? (technically I’ve done this once before - 24 handwritten chapters over about 18 months - but I haven’t been able to do it again in the four years since I finished that one) -also publish an original book one day of course -have my own children -travel outside of New Zealand. idk where just, somewhere new?

Five things that make me feel happy:

-spending time talking to or hanging out with my close friends (whether that be in person or my online friends, you know who you are I hope <3) -when people come to my inbox and discuss headcanons and AUs with me !!!!! it’s been happening more often lately and it genuinely makes me just !!!! -similarly, when people leave comments on or say something in the tags of their reblogs of my fics/art/whatever~! I feel. somewhat undeserving most of the time. but they still make me smile heh -mY CAT. I miss her omg? -the fact that season 4 of Voltron is less than two weeks away?????

Five things I’m currently into:

-VOLTRON: LEGENDARY DEFENDER -Jeremwood Sky Factory AU -iced chocolates from Rob Roy’s Dairy down the street -just the songs Dead Girl Waling and Candy Store from Heathers despite not knowing a single thing about the musical and having never seen it -How To Get Away With Murder (I’m rewatching the first two seasons with my friend who’s never seen it before - and I feel so EVIL not being able to say anything about the plot twists until they happen hehehe - and then we’re gonna watch season 3 for the first time together too) -((I had to add a sixth one because I almost forgot Miraculous Ladybug !! lol))

Five things on my to-do list:

-find a job for the summer and into 2018 -actually? figure out where I’m living in November and December? because at this rate I might literally be homeless whoops. I just. don’t want to have to move back home over Christmas. -the art giveaway prizes !!! -a bunch of writing... (my Voltron Klance AU, La Vida Mocha, a couple gift fics, something for the aforementioned Jeremwood Sky Factory AU, and more) (most if not all of this post still stands basically, but now there’s more I’ve added onto it) -catch up on the AH Rainbow Six Git Gud videos

I tag:

I’m going to spice things up and tag my fifteen latest followers - I wanna get to know y’all! But feel no pressure haha~ :’)

@softkcgane @barbpumpkelman @tenlittle-cockbites @crystalgems114 @soma-ulte @play-to-gay @cmacmac @aceditz @deductionsanddaydreams @illegalknives @sortamaliciousryebread @dimplesandcurlsss @apricityofthedamned @ryan-haywoodya-haphap @mattygum

<3