#hope u enjoy this bit of writing :)

[hoshiina]

pairing: hoshina soushirou x gn!reader (no prns)

summary: he still dreams of you and wishes for another chance to make you his, some lines are inspired by hakujitsu by king gnu

warnings: reader is rather lively/bubbly,

notes: TYSM FOR 100 !!!, a/n (yapping) in tags

wc: 1800

Hoshina Soushirou still dreamt of you. Every once in a while, you’d come to visit him in his sleep and it would make him believe that a miracle had occurred, that he had another chance. Every time, he would tell himself that he would never let this go, that he would give it his absolute all this time.

Yet, every time, he would wake up from this dream.

And every time, he would feel his heart drop at the realization of that. He was disappointed, and he knew, but there was no reason to be. It wasn't like anything had happened between the two of you. He liked to believe there was something going on— something more than mere acquaintances or friends, but he knew there wasn't. It must've been all in his head because the last time he had heard of you was before you were moved to the first division. He hadn't heard a single word from you since then, nor has he said anything— but that was just the way it was. There was nothing to do at this point anyway.

He wasn’t with you for all that long, and it was probably just the fact that both of you joined at the same time that naturally started the first conversation. He was far more weary of everything and far less cheerful at the time, and you didn't even work with him most of the time being a researcher, but you didn’t mind that one bit. If you had something you wanted to say, you would tell him and he’d just have to listen. At first, he had no idea why you kept talking to him when he paid hardly any mind, but after a while, he found comfort in your conversations. He had started to look forward to talking to you.

It had only been a few months before the defense force noticed how spectacular your work was and quickly called you over to the first division. There wasn’t a tearful farewell, or even a casual goodbye for that matter. You disappeared along with a cheerful ‘I’ll see you around!’ while you were moving your boxes out and he would hear those words ring in his head for the years to come— in your voice. Yet, at the time, all he could do was force a smile and nod.

It had been so many years since you had moved, he didn’t even know what you looked like now. Probably still stunning. Definitely still stunning. Although he had the chance to see the 1st division officers a lot, you were a researcher who worked behind the scenes. Naturally, there was no reason he'd bump into you, and he didn’t. He never did.

He loved to remember you, but he hated to think about you. He loved to remember the way you would laugh at his silly jokes, the way you would ramble on about the work you had to do daily but would still put in your all, and the way you would always visit him with some cold tea when he trained late into the night if you were still up as well. Actually, he hated thinking about the tea— it would make him start thinking about you. He would think about how you were now, if you were still pilled with work, and if you remembered him.

If he bumped into you, would you remember his name? Maybe if he cracked a lame joke. Maybe if he gave you a few days to think about it. Maybe if he started listing the things you talked about— his most treasured memories. Maybe then you’d say his name again.

See? This is why he hated thinking about you— he had things to be doing.

It wasn't like this happened everyday and it wasn't that big of a deal. It just ruined his day a little when it did happen. So if he had to say, he hated dreaming of you.

As you took over his thoughts again, the emergency alarm started to buzz, as if to tell him to snap out of it. He was thankful, he couldn't still be daydreaming like this.

A smaller-sized identified grade kaiju had appeared near the first division quarters, so the third division was doing more backup work this time. Hoshina was taking care of the smaller kaiju in the vicinity that had spawned from the presence of the honju. It felt nice for him to be doing work, it took his mind off his ramblings and cleared his head. He wasn't too worried about the honju, however. Although it was an identified grade, it wasn't anything they hadn't dealt with before and as much as he liked to tease Narumi about how he was always better at smaller kaiju neutralization, he knew Narumi was extraordinary at what he did.

At least that would have been true for any other kaiju of that size and strength, but Narumi seemed to be struggling far more than expected with this one. From his earpiece, he heard Okonogi notify him that the 1st division was asking to send Narumi some help if possible, and he immediately rushed over.

Yet, by the time he got there, Narumi had already neutralized the kaiju in question, although horribly beat up.

“I don't need your help, Hoshina!” Narumi still managed to yell while on the floor, absolutely bleeding out.

“Oh, shut up, do you want to die?” Hoshina asked. It didn't take an expert to see that Narumi’s condition was concerning.

Narumi soon fell quiet, probably unconscious, while Hoshina found his earpiece lying on the floor near him. He picked it up, hoping it'd connect to the first division just in case they had lost connection to his vitals.

“He's unconscious right now, but he seems to still be breathing. However, he's bleeding dangerously from multiple spots. I think a few ribs might also be broken,” Hoshina said. “There aren't any kaiju nearby at the moment and I'll take care of them if any do come— bring the stretcher right away.”

He waited a moment, but there was no response from the earpiece.

“Hello?” he asked, hoping for a response. After another moment, he heard it.

“Hoshina…?”

It was you. He would still recognize your voice from anywhere. Oh, how he missed you. His eyes were wide and he had nothing to say all of a sudden. You remembered him. You recognized his voice.

You remembered his name.

“Thank you for your report, we lost connection to some of his vitals halfway through. The medics should be there in a few minutes,” you said.

“I'll stand by,” Hoshina said and kept Narumi's earpiece in his ear. He had nothing he wanted to tell you, not one thing in mind, but he wanted to be on the line with you— even in silence. The medics came in a few minutes like you had told him and took care of Narumi right away.

“They got here, he should be fine now,” Hoshina said, as if you didn't already know. He just wanted something to say to you.

“I missed working with you,” you said and he couldn't believe his ears. Perhaps he'd wake up from this dream again. Perhaps he'd open his eyes and be utterly disappointed again. But he knew there wasn't even a hint of romantic affection in your words, just the respect you've always had for the work he did, and how you missed doing this job with him. And he did too.

“Yeah, I did too,” he said. “I still do.”

You chuckled a little and he could still picture you smiling. “That made my entire year,” you said. “Probably not the time for this, but we should catch up sometime. If you don't mind, of course.”

Made your year. What did you mean by that? And If he didn't mind? Oh, you didn't know how many times he's dreamed of this day.

“I'd love to,” he said. While he was a little embarrassed to imagine the rest of the first-division team hearing this conversation, that was not going to stop him. He'd be an absolute fool to let this chance go. He has promised himself to give it his all this time.

“Are you seeing anyone?” he asked quietly.

“Sorry?” you asked, hoping he'd repeat that. You heard it, but you were afraid you were so delusional you were starting to hear things. Your heartbeat quickened and you waited patiently, hoping it wasn't all in your head.

“Do you have a lover?” he asked a little more clearly, but obviously still nervous and flustered. You had never seen him like this, ever.

“No,” you replied, a little too quickly. “I do not.”

Relief washed over him and he felt his heartbeat quicken. Oh, thank goodness you didn't have access to his vitals. He was going to make you fall for him somehow.

“…do you?” you asked quietly, after a moment.

“Me?” he asked. “No, I don't.”

“I see,” you said, but he could hear the soft delight in your voice. He would never miss it.

Perhaps he'd just go for it. There was nothing for him to lose at this point, and he had made his feelings plenty obvious already. If you didn't want him, he'd just try again. He's tried countless times in his dreams already, what's a few more?

“But I'd love to be yours,” he said and heard you gasp quietly. That one he couldn't read. Was that a little too bold? Far too sudden?

“Did I hear that right?” he faintly heard you scream, asking your fellow first division coworkers. That made him laugh, you hadn't changed one bit. “I’ve loved you forever, Hoshina.”

There was absolutely no way. He was going to wake up soon, he just knew it. Well, might as well indulge in the dream for now, then.

“I've definitely loved you for longer,” he said.

“Hoshina, I'm going to kill you if this is a dream,” you said, and that caught him off guard. Yet, even that sounded nice to him, and that made him smile. He'd get to see you, at least.

But it wasn't a dream. The way your voice fluttered his heart could never be felt through a dream. The way your laugh filled his soul could not possibly make him feel so warm through a mere dream.

“I cannot wait to see you,” you said softly, your voice so full of love it made him melt.

He couldn't either, but that wasn't exactly what he had on mind this entire time.

“And I cannot wait to kiss you.”

[ind1c0lite]

(Basic context is that AU of Duel Desinties where the phantom impersonates Phoenix to get him found guilty of Clay's murder, I talk more under the cut abt it jkhlj)

-Basically meant to be a parallel to turnabout trump, cause if you can have ONE boss get found guilty of murder, why not a second one?

-OK basically: everything in DD happens normally until like- a day before clays murder, Phoenix gets yoinked by the phantom somehow (he is still alive, just being held captive), Phantom is still Fulbright, but they've decided to be silly goofy (target Phoenix and get him found guilty of murder, escape police custody and then murder phoenix and make it seem like Phoenix accidentally died while on the run, thats why they didn't kill phoenix right away unlike the real Fulbright) there is an imposter amo-

-I dont have the logistics as to how this affects solving Metis's murder, and how it effects what evidence is used n whatnot and turnabout for tomorrow as a whole, so im just going nuts HGJKHLJ

-Originally I was actually imagining this taking place during turnabout for tomorrow and I wanted that case to be apollo v klavier instead of phoenix and edgeworth and thats why klav is in here instead of Simon (I decided that Simon got badly injured and couldn't stand in court for the retrial, so klavier was asked to step in)

-The courtroom bombing still happens the same way it does normally, but Apollo decides to take up the case again instead of taking a leave, instead of like, you know, healing from the traumatic event that just happened, turnabout countdown still happens as well

-Apollo and Athena do not find out about the phantom's existence until well after this trial, so they have no idea that Phoenix could've possibly been replaced, though simon, after hearing about the trial, might be suspicious about whether or not that was the real Phoenix

-The Phantom had been not only keeping an eye on Simon for a while, but was also stalking Phoenix and Edgeworth after they both started looking into UR-1, so they were able to impersonate phoenix so well that not even his own daughter thought that anything was up (though while Trucy did find him a *little* bit off, but she figured that it might've been the bombing that caused him to act ever so slightly weird, so she didn't pay much mind to it until she heard about his confession in court and realized it might've been because he possibly, ya know, killed someone)

-it's pretty much just switching Athena being framed for murder with Phoenix, and instead of the trial ending on a cliffhanger, it continues on (probably with Klavier insisting on it) ending with soloman being found innocent and Phoenix being declared guilty

-There's a couple days inbetween the end of the cosmic turnabout and the start of turnabout for tomorrow, so Athena, Apollo and Trucy all get a little bit to process the fact that "oh god my boss/my dad killed someone" (simons execution date is pushed back a bit in this au) and they probably get to talk with Klavier and eventually a lil bit with Simon after he gets out

-Im not sure how it all winds down in turnabout for tomorrow (Phoenix escaping and being at large is basically the perfect cover for the phantom to resume being fulbright for that trial) but they do eventually realize that the phoenix who confessed wasn't the real one and now there's a search on going to find out where the real one is being held captive, hes fineeee just ready to take a week long nap and a good vacation (along with every other waa member)

-I dont have anything else to add on rn but if you want to add something or just throw in a scenario feel free to!! this idea has been bouncing around my head for like a month now and Im very happy to finally show yall it

[demonstenes]

The full story in the link above ⬆️

Instead of doing separate works for each of the next few days, I decided to create a work that combines the prompts.

Originally this was supposed to be a comic but as usually I greatly overstimated how much time making such a long comic would take. So I'm just gonna turn this into a weird fic-comic hybrid. (for each chapter there will be one comic page)

If all goes according to plan, tomorrow I'll post the next chapter. (sorry in advance if i'll be a day late, I am quite often late with stuff)

Day 4: Fake Dating @morpherine-events

[clowningaroundmars]

aromantic mike chilton for @aggressivelyarospec week!!!! :D

accompanying story under the cut!

It didn't work out with Julie.

They had broken up and decided it would be best to stay friends. After all, with Mike... nothing really changed at all. Like... nothing.

And that was kinda the problem.

Julie didn't think herself to be too judgmental of a person, not after everything everyone's been through. She and the Burners worked hard, played hard, and succeeded together (oftentimes against all odds).

They slept in cuddle piles after dinner some nights whenever Julie could slip away for more than a day without arousing her dad's suspicions. They passed bongs around for a lung-hacking hit or two, went skinny-dipping in the lake at night, patched up each other's bloody wounds countless times.

And then somewhere down the line, Julie fell in love with Mike.

She had no idea when exactly, since she doesn't really do feelings like that, can't afford to with a life like hers. But it happened... somehow.

Julie couldn't quite place exactly what it was that initially drew her to him, especially at first. Sure, the guy was friendly, decisive, assertive without being too overbearing, and unbearably charming. But.

It was the charm that caught poor Julie totally off-guard, really. She'd often hear her father ranting and raving about his golden-prodigal-son-turned-traitor, and his ID photo in his file wasn't really much to look at, either. Julie would never admit it out loud, but she had snuck down to Motorcity for the first time ever with low expectations.

Later, she came back up to her pod in Deluxe with stars in her eyes.

But she wasn't in love with him then, no. She knew this because she was pretty sure her constant Mike Thoughts did not manifest until after the kids all went to Antonio's together for the first time.

It was summertime, around nine months after the group was (un)officially formed. The heat had Mike shirking his jacket and leaving it in Mutt, and his old t-shirt was getting a tad bit tight after all the exercise he was getting around the hideout, especially after Texas moved his workout gear in and Mike took him up on his offer for semi-regular sparring sessions.

And boy, did that Mike fella fill out. Mhmm.

Even Julie-- a girl who was mostly blind to typical male affections directed at her in school-- had to admit to herself that when Mike put on a little more weight in the right places, when his biceps bulged a bit as he flexed an arm and his shoulders got a bit wider... it took a lot more effort to wrench her studious gaze away.

Geez Louise.

Before long, she was doodling their initials and combining both of their names in her little sketchpad. Gag. Gross.

But Mike never seemed to pay attention to her the same way in return. She didn't catch him looking away from her at inopportune times, and he'd never lay a single hand on her aside from a typical friendly pat on the shoulder, or a comfortable lean on an arm while the Burners all lounged around during movie nights. Hell, he seemed more affectionate with his best friend Chuck than he was with her most times.

So she kept her thoughts to herself. Easy peasy. She kept secrets from her dad, from her friends, and now from Mike. Like everything else, she created a neat, separate file in her head and tucked that little secret away. She managed to conceal it for long enough.

Until it became too big to ignore.

And then it happened.

And it really just... happened. Julie hardly registered herself even doing it.

It happened like this: Mike had rescued Julie from certain death at the lake after she crashed an out-of-control 9 Lives out through the barricades and into the water, and they were panting and coughing up water on the sand after Mike succeeded in dragging her out. Dutch and Texas were busy racing around and distracting the Kanebots, luring them all away from the pair.

Julie didn't say anything. Neither of them did. Julie just... surged forward when she blinked the water out of her eyes and saw him, his angelic face hovering mere inches away from hers. She remembered the dewey drops on his long lashes and the warmth of his lips more than anything else.

And then she's pretty sure she blacked out afterwards because the next thing she remembers, she's waking up on the couch wrapped in blankets and towels, wearing Chuck's hoodie.

She doesn't ask anyone why Chuck opted to be the guy to lend his clothes to her.

(It wasn't Chuck who lent it to her though.)

After Jacob makes sure she has a steaming mug of soup in her hands and is generally fussed over enough, he bids her a goodnight and leaves a big holoscreen playing old-timey anime shows for her.

Shortly afterwards, Mike slips into the room on feet far too quiet for a rowdy teenage boy like him. Julie almost misses his entry and startles when she notices him casually leaning on a wall over to her right, almost blending in against the garish grafitti and street signs.

They sat down and spoke quietly, privately.

Julie appreciated that Mike had enough tact and forethought not to confront her in front of all of the guys. Thank god. Julie wouldn't even know how to handle the endless teasing that would inevitably assault her from all angles if they ever even suspected that she had a crush on Mike.

And how embarrassing, really! The only girl on the team falling for the charming and roguish leader of a group of rebels. Double gag.

It was by some miracle that no one ever suspected Julie's true feelings, and that the actual love interest found out before anyone else did. Lucky her!

And incredibly, Mike shared her feelings too! Who would've thought it! Definitely not Julie, that's for sure.

Mike hadn't even seemed to glance her way at all in all the time they had known each other. He always maintained the same level of friendliness with her as he did with the other guys. But he confessed then that he knew Julie was special, and that their bond that grew in the time they had known each other was special, too.

Wow. Look at them, both hiding their feelings so well! It's like they were meant to be.

So they agreed to go steady.

Eventually, they told the rest of the Burners. Well, it really was just that it was kinda hard for them to ignore when Julie would sneak her index finger over to Mike's hand and hook it onto his pinkie as they walked back to their cars after a quick errand run for the Skylarks or an easy mission.

So they decided to make the announcement at Antonio's, which Julie thought was perfectly poetic. It was where she first fell in love with Mike, and now here they were a year and a half later, making it official.

They didn't expect the other guys' reactions, though. The Burners received the news... lukewarmly.

"You guys were in love?" Texas spewed bits of pizza all over the table as he chewed with his mouth open. Ugh. Typical Texas.

"Oh! Wow... uhm. Congrats, guys." Chuck seemed to hide behind his hair even more as his shoulders hiked up in a nonchalant shrug.

Dutch rubbed his chin. "...Yeah. Uh, yeah...? Cool. Congrats, you two."

And then silence fell over the table.

"Is... is there a problem with this, or?" Julie dared to press.

Everyone silently exchanged glances.

Mike-- bless his heart-- misread the situation and clasped his hands together on the table.

"Guys, look," he started, "this isn't gonna change anything about the team. We're still gonna be friends, I’m not prioritizing Julie over anyone else on missions. It's just... we're gonna... we're gonna be the Burners, except I’m dating Jules now! That's all!"

Mike smiled warmly at all his friends. Chuck chewed on his lip.

Dutch bobbed his head thoughtfully. Then, after a while, he said "nah, yeah. We figured. I mean, you're a pretty great guy so it's not like we thought you were gonna up and abandon us or anything. It's just that... uh. So when did this uhhh, yanno, this whole thing start?"

Julie blinked.

Mike cocked his head. "Start?" He asked.

"Y'know, like when did y'all start liking each other? Because uh, no offense, but this is kinda comin' out of the blue for us. Literally nobody thought this was gonna be a thing. Tell us some stories!"

Mike blew out a breath and leaned back in the booth. Julie smiled.

"Weeeellll," Julie squinted with excitement and then let the cat out of the bag.

She told them all about it, how in this very same booth she watched as Mike's t-shirt stretched over his muscles all those months ago and how his smile seemed to shine brighter than the diner's neon signs. Then about how she leaned against Mike's broad chest after agonizing for hours over not being able to free him from her father's maximum-security prison that one time. About all the dreams she'd have of them together, the intimate late-night talks they'd have while having a couple of drinks on the rooftop of some abandoned building. How she loved his bright eyes and strong hands...

When she finished, she had a dreamy kind of look all over her face. Mike had a brow quirked, but he smiled back at her all the same.

Everyone exchanged glances again.

"So Mike. Was it like that for you?" Chuck asked eventually. It had a strange sort of lilt to it, like he was in on an inside joke that Julie wasn't.

She bristled a bit.

"Oh! Uh." Mike glanced around quickly. "Not... really? But Julie's super pretty, so when she confessed to me, I was pretty stoked."

Mike grinned like a goofball. Julie grinned like a goofball. The rest of the Burners looked skeptical.

"Hm. Cool! Well, great." Chuck turned back to his loaded pizza slice.

And just like that, things mostly went back to normal.

And, uh... Mike was right, this... really wasn't changing anything between them and the Burners. Like at all.

A small part of Julie was kind of hurt by it, but she tried to wave the feeling away. It was nonsense, and she should be happy. Mike loved her! He just wasn't a romantic type, that's all. He loved his friends, loved being a Burner... it was fine.

Right?

It was normal for her to have to remind Mike every now and then to go out on a date with her. He's a busy guy, and this was his first relationship. Julie just had to be patient.

Patient... patient. Yeah. She could be patient.

It was when Chuck joined them for their sixth "movie date" in a row that the patience was starting to run a bit thin, though.

Chuck and Mike settled side-by-side on the communal couch, swapping snacks as easily as breathing and nursing a popcorn bowl between them. Mike hooked an arm over Julie's shoulder though, so Julie said nothing.

It was a couple of months later when Mike makes a quiet confession to her as they laid together in his pristine bed one night.

"I don't really like kissing all that much," he mumbles, face half-buried into his pillows. "But I like holding you. Is that okay?"

Julie's heart sinks into the covers. But she nods anyways. "Yeah. That's okay."

"Really? Do ya mean it? It's not weird or anything, right? We can still be together but not kiss. Maybe I can give you forehead kisses instead?"

Julie sighed softly. "Mmnyeah, that's fine."

"It's not you, it's me, Jules. I just--"

"Mike. Trust me, I get it. It's okay, seriously."

Mike gave her a grateful smile back.

Damnit. Well.

Anyways, life continued on. Julie resigned herself to accepting the fact that her boyfriend was just simply a guy's guy.

Julie liked cars but Mike was all over Mutt. Loved the damn thing more than he loved her, honestly. She loved being a Burner, but it seemed like it was Mike's purpose, like he was more devoted to the city under the dome than he was to his girlfriend. And above all, Mike loved the Burners. All of them. He spent a bit more time with Chuck than he did with anyone else in the team, but he was always there for everyone just as passionately.

Which was. Fine.

Freeing Motorcity from her father's reign of terror was indeed way more important than holding hands with a cute boy!

Duh, of course, stupid Julie.

Whatever.

When they inevitably broke up, it blindsided Mike. He thought they were the best of buds! The bestest of buds-- aside from him and Chuck, of course! But while he loved Chuck fiercely, his love for Julie was... different. Fierce but different. He could never describe it in words but he knew what he was feeling was real.

He loved Julie! So when she suddenly broke up with him, it was like getting hit with a sack of flour out of nowhere.

They were leaned up against Mutt's hood on a cliff overlooking Lake Erie when Julie finally broke the news. They were casually smoking a cigarette, passing it back and forth. Mike's idea of a "date." Anyways.

"I can't really keep doing this, Mike." Julie sighed out a cloud of smoke. She said it so matter-of-factly, as casually as if she were simply commenting on the weather.

Mike whipped round to look at her. "Keep doing what?"

"This," Julie threw her hands up and tucked them into her vest pockets after handing Mike the cigarette back. "This... 'relationship'. It's not working out."

"What... whaddya mean? We just started dating, it's kinda too early to tell--"

"No, Mike." Julie interrupted loudly. Her eyes were avoiding Mike's face carefully. "No... it's not. We've been together for months and we have never moved on from our friendship. You... just admit it, dude. You're just not into me."

Mike pushed himself off of Mutt and placed his hands on both of her shoulders, forcing them to stand face-to-face. "Julie, look at me." He had his jaw set.

Julie swallowed as she peered up at him from her bangs.

"I love you more than you can ever know. I know I’m messing up, but... but I’m trying, okay? Just give us one more chance, Jules. I can make it right, I know it!"

Julie took a step back, wrinkling her nose. "Mike! Just give it up, okay? I know you don't feel the same about me as I do about you," she pleaded, mortified. "It's okay! It's fine! We can just move on and let it go!"

"B-but it's not! No, Julie c'mon, bro--"

"Bro?!" Julie exploded, hands in the air now. "Are you hearing yourself right now? Am I your girlfriend, or your bro?"

Mike gaped at her like a fish, mouth opening just to close again. Then, he hunched his shoulders and shoved his hands in his pockets.

He kicked a couple of rocks off the cliff, watching the pebbles scatter and plummet dozens of feet below.

Then he ran his hands through his hair, a nervous habit of his, before returning back to Julie.

He exhaled loudly. "What... what's the difference? You... isn't that what dating is all about? Being best friends with your partner?"

Julie glared at him. "Yes! And it's also about being more than that, too!"

Mike scoffed. "More than friends? What does that even mean? Nothing is more important than friendship, Jules. Not in Motorcity."

"Nothing is more important than friendship?! Mike--" Here, Julie took a step back to pinch her nose and exhale. "Look. When I confessed my feelings to you for the first time, what were you feeling?"

"What was I feeling? Uh, I dunno, happiness I guess? What, did you want me to say that I didn't care? I care about your feelings, Julie! I do!"

"So you started dating me because you didn't want to hurt my feelings?!" Julie shouted.

"Where are you getting that from?!" Mike shouted back.

"Mike! You are just not into me! I can just tell! It's okay! W-we can just be friends, like how we used to be. I don't even know why you're fighting me so hard on this, I'm the one breaking up with you. You can't change my mind!"

"Right," Mike huffed, "because you don't love me anymore. No, I get it. It's fine."

They glared at each other for a beat.

Then, Julie shoved her hands back into her vest pockets. "No, Mike. I do love you. I just think..." she sighed, all the wind in her sails blowing away, "I just think it's best for us to go our own separate ways."

Mike startled. "Wait, what? Jules... are you...? You're not leaving the Burners, are you?"

"No, I'm not leaving the Burners." Julie says through clenched teeth. "I'm just gonna take a quick break and then when I come back? We're gonna be just friends again, Mike. Alright?"

Mike inhales deeply, his own anger trickling out of him like water as well. "... Fine. Fine, yeah. Whatever you want, Julie." He hangs his head.

They then stare off into the horizon together, watching the twinkling star-like pinpoints of light on the underside of the dome. Watching as the lake's waters undulate and shimmer in the darkness of the cool evening, a gigantic dark mirror reflecting the pinpoints back to the ceiling.

Mike idly scuffs his boot on the ground again, putting out their shared cigarette. In a sad sort of way, the dying ember of the smoldering stick being stomped out into rocks and gravel was a lot like their relationship: dead and done. And of course it had to be Mike to put them both out, huh. Right.

Real poetic.

Julie turns around wordlessly, climbs into Mutt and sits in Chuck's seat.

Time to go.

After a few seconds Mike nods once, fixes his collar and slides into his own seat.

The ride back up to Deluxe is quiet.

Except this time, it had been a long while since they had the time to relax like this. These days, Kane's attacks were getting more and more savage, brutal... and cunning.

It was a couple years later when the kids were a bit older --but not that much older at the same time-- that they all filed past the doors of Antonio's and slid right into their usual booth.

Kane's latest attempt at a hostile takeover of Motorcity involved way too many sneaky double-crossing spies all trying to break the Burners up and weaken the city's best defense. Sneaky bastard, that Abraham Kane.

But they thwarted him yet again, despite it all. They beat the bad guys, restored peace back amongst the gangs and the civilians, and saved the day.

It had taken weeks this time, but they succeeded.

So now to celebrate, they're placing their orders for the greasiest, most heart-clogging fast food on the menu and sitting back to happily sip at their drinks. They're finally enjoying their time together again, and Mike is especially pleased that everyone made it out alive.

Sitting elbow-to-elbow with his bestest friends in the world, Mike takes advantage of a lull in the conversation to clap his hands together and get everyone's attention.

"Okay, guys!" He announces. "So, I'm pretty sure we're all kinda fried after... y'know, everything. Everyone's probably too tired to care about what I'm going to say next! So... confession time."

"Hmhmm! Spill, then," Chuck smirks, his chin in his cyborg hand. It was a recent upgrade to his prosthetic, and it shone a beautiful silvery-blue under the diner lights.

Mike chuckles nervously. "Uh, I... I think that... I figured out that I can't fall in love!"

Everyone stares at him.

Chuck casually slurps his milkshake through a straw.

Dutch turns to him then. "Wait. You knew?"

Chuck sits up. "Uhh hahaha, whoa. Where'd that come from? You psychic or somethin'?" He deflects awkwardly.

"You're clearly not surprised," Dutch points out.

"Pfft yeah I'm not surprised. Who's been Mike's best friend since, like, kindergarten again?"

"Ah. And ya didn't think to let me know anything back when we were dating? Sure would've saved us a lot of time," Julie quipped drily.

Chuck holds his mismatched hands up. "Now hold on a minute! I didn't know back then, obviously. Besides, you two dated years ago for like... three seconds!"

"Two years ago, smartass," Julie snips back.

Mike clears his throat conspicuously. "Guys! Guys, no need to fight over me," he jokes awkwardly, "because I, uhm, I've decided I don't belong to anybody! I'm just me, and I'm not dating anyone. Like, ever."

Everyone turns back to him again.

With four pairs of eyes on him, Mike draws in on himself a bit as he continues. "Yeah, it's. It's something that I've been kinda discovering about myself and I'm still... exploring it. But I'm pretty sure I've never had a crush in my life. I was just walking through life distracted by everything else for so long that I never noticed it, but... yeah. I've just. I've just never felt love for anyone else before, I guess."

"Which is fine," Chuck blurts out suddenly. "It's... it's fine! That Mike's never fallen in love with anyone. It happens. Some people just don't experience a common thing most people do... like romance, or sex. Yeah! Totally normal!"

Dutch smirks at Chuck. "You too, then? You a non-romantic as well?"

Chuck shakes his head so hard his bangs swing. "No! Nuh uh, I'm a lover, not a fighter. I'm definitely a romantic!"

"Why so nervous all of a sudden, then?"

"Because," Chuck replies, "because... it's fine! To not ever fall in love or like... date, or kiss or have sex or whatever. We're in Motorcity now, and we can get to do whatever we want. And if we don't wanna date, then we don't have to!" Then he clamps his mouth shut.

Mike perks up then. "That's right! And ah, yeah! Speaking of, Chuckles... lemme tell ya, I really gotta hand it to ya. If it weren't for you, I'd've never figured this one out. So, thanks, buddy! As always, you really had my back on this one."

Chuck and Mike smile at each other and Texas raises a brow.

"Huh?" Texas says. "What's that s'posed to mean?"

Chuck titters nervously as Mike pulls up a screen and opens up a forum.

"It means that Chuckles here helped me find a site that explained everything I was experiencing! Or... not experiencing, really."

Chuck clears his throat, clearly relieved. "Uh, yeah! Well, after Mike's like, 10th girlfriend that one time he couldn't stop bringing people back home, he came to me all frustrated and stuff and... well, we went off to find my friends in the LARPing arena to see if anyone had any idea why he was burning through dates like Mutt burns through tires. And so someone suggested he might be aromantic, and uh... well, the rest is history!"

Dutch and Julie hummed in acknowledgement.

Everyone knew what that was like, how weird it was that Golden Child Mike all of sudden started bringing people home from parties and bars shortly after his breakup with Julie. Sometimes he even had two people on his arms, some men, some women. Never the same person after two or three times, though.

They were all perplexed when they first heard laughing and chattering behind Mike's bedroom door. Once the moaning started, though... well! Everyone poked fun at him the mornings after and teased him to varying degrees, but things were mostly chill in the beginning.

Everyone remembered Mike's frustrations after a while, though. How he could never quite land a steady relationship-- no matter how hard he tried, with whoever. It got to the point where the Burners stopped their teasing and became quite concerned after Mike introduced his 5th girlfriend in the span of like... 6 months, once upon a time.

It was shortly after his final breakup that Mike flopped down onto his best friend's messy bed one evening and finally had The Conversation.

It went well, all things considered. Chuck, patient as ever, listened to his friend and then when he couldn't offer any solid advice, he offered a distraction. The LARPing arena proved to be much better help than they could ever hope for.

Ever since then, Mike's been up late into the night often, completely engrossed in all things aromantic. He wanted to learn more about it, yearned for a community that knew exactly what he was feeling; so he stayed awake just swiping through sites and PDFs on his holoscreens, eating every bit of information up.

Now, it looked like Mike was at peace with himself and his station in life after all this time. That was a relief!

"Aromantic! That's it! Look at this, guys." Here, Mike grins and pulls up a photo of a striped flag. "This is the community flag. Look familiar?"

The colors of the flag had two shades of green at the top that then cascaded into white, then grey and then black.

Texas leaned forward. "It looks like Mutt!" He practically shouts.

Everyone laughs.

"Yeah, that sure is a you flag if I've ever seen one," Julie quips.

"Right? Like it was meant to be! So I guess I'm part of this community, then. I mean, this really is a kickass flag..."

"But what does that mean, though? That you can never fall in love with anyone, ever?" Julie asks.

Mike closes his screens and clasps his hands on the table, exhaling a bit. "Uhh, well? Well, yeah! I can't ever fall in love... but it doesn't feel that way to me! Ugh, I'm probably gonna do such a bad job explaining this," he laughs self-consciously.

"It's okay, dude. Take your time," Dutch smiles warmly.

Mike shoots him a grateful smile back. "... It... it's like. Well? It's like... I've never felt butterflies in my stomach before, so I have no idea what that's like. But I like you guys, a lot. Like a lot, a lot. I love hanging out with you all even though I don't think about any of you guys like that. I love making friends-- like true friends-- and I can't stop thinking about how happy hanging out with people makes me. I guess I'm just way more platonic than romantic, because I am just... so bad at love! God, I've never had so much trouble with anything in my life before like I have with romance," he groans, grimacing.

"And when Mike Fucking Chilton says that, that's how you know he's struggling!" Dutch puts in.

Everyone giggles.

"Wow," Julie gives Mike a side-long glance. "Finally. Something that The Great Mike Chilton is bad at! We've finally got him, boys."

Texas leaps out of his seat and enthusiastically karate-chops the air. "Hoo-WAH!!! Finally! Something I got over on ya, Mike. Texas is better at romancing than you!"

Julie rolls her eyes.

Mike guffaws. "Psshhwhat? C'mon guys, I'm bad at plenty of stuff. This isn't the first!"

"Oh yeah? Name one thing!" Dutch challenges.

"Uhhm well uh, I...? I'm pretty bad at... hm." Mike drums his fingers on the table. "I'm bad at coding! I'm not nearly as good as Chuck at the software and tech side of things!"

"But ya could be! You could totally learn how to, if you'd just sit down with me for more than 20 minutes," Chuck points out.

Mike stubbornly folds his arms across his chest. "Well, I don't wanna! What're you gonna do about it?"

And just like that, the kids all return back to normalcy, bickering and quibbling about nothing as they finally receive their food from the waitress. Soon after, Chuck and Texas are throwing pizza toppings and wadded up paper at each other and Mike is mom-ing at them to quit it before they all get kicked out.

It was as if nothing even happened.

It was simultaneously comforting and also thrilling how easily Mike was accepted back into the fold; the Burners' Heartless Leader who could never fall in love.

On the inside, Mike was deeply grateful and his heart felt full upon learning this, though. It was a nourishing feeling that his bestest friends in the whole world who worked hard, played hard, lived fast and free alongside him... they loved him and accepted him back, no matter what. It was a much nicer and fuzzier feeling than any romance-filled relationship or hookup ever gave him.

Now, the Burners are finally leaving the diner, all tipsy and giddy from their impromptu late-night happy hour session.

Mike has a casual arm slung over Chuck's shoulder as they traipse on over to Mutt. Everyone casually daps each other up and offers quick goodbyes before climbing into their respective cars.

Mike slides behind the wheel and exhales. Chuck clicks himself into his secure harness.

"Well! That went pretty well! A little too easily, honestly but," Mike breathes.

Chuck's blonde head bobs. "Well yeah, dude. Of course. What'd ya think, that'd we kick you out of the team for that?"

Mike shrugs and turns his skeleton key into Mutt's ignition, bringing her to roar awake again. "I mean... no. But, y'know. It's weird, having a leader of a gang that can't ever fall in love, right? Like some heartless freak or somethin'. I dunno," he chuckled wryly.

Chuck frowns. "Mike. You're not a freak," he says firmly.

Mike gives his best friend a sidelong glance. "Chuck..." he speaks, voice low, "it's not like that! You know what I mean... it's just that sometimes people who are different don't get treated so well all the time, yanno?"

"Yeah, sure, back up in Deluxe," Chuck argues. "But it's different down here in Motorcity. It's good here for people like us!"

Mike hums thoughtfully as he drums his fingers on the wheel. "Yeah, you're right..." then, he smirks at Chuck. "So if that's true, then why didn't you come out, back there? I actually thought you were gonna do it. It even looked like Dutch suspected something, too!"

Mike smiles at his friend, who is doing his best impression of a carseat cover now.

"Mmnyeah... yeah, I could've." Chuck gives a noncommittal shrug, hesitating.

"What's wrong?"

After a few seconds, Chuck swipes at his bangs self-consciously and clears his throat. "Uhmm well... being aromantic and never falling in love is kinda... badass, don'tcha think? But for a guy like me, never wanting to have sex and being a dope for romance is just pathetic," he laments. "If people hear that I'm asexual and that I never want to bang anyone, I'd get laughed out of the room! It's not an asexual thing, Mikey, it's a me thing."

Mike throws Mutt into reverse and backs her out of their parking spot with practiced ease.

"Chuckles. My guy. Look, who cares what other people think? If you don't wanna bone, you're just not gonna. That doesn't hurt anyone at all, so screw anyone who says anything about it. If anyone gives you a hard time, call me up and I'll spin the block for you,"

Chuck bursts into a peal of nervous giggles. "Whoa, whoa Mikey, geez! Christ, thanks, man but that's really not necessary. I appreciate you, though,"

They smile at each other again.

Then after a beat, Mike adds, "plus, if they know about aromanticism, they're gonna eventually find out about asexuality, too, dude."

Chuck laughs weakly as he clutches his arms. "O-oh...! Yeah... yeah that's tr--"

Mike suddenly slams his boot down on the gas pedal and Mutt growls as she lurches into hundred-mile-speeds from a standstill. Her tires screech loudly on the pavement and she leaves a giant plume of smoke and dirt behind as everyone careens over a drop straight onto the Deluxian Supply Pipes.

"Miiikkee-eeyyyy!!! We just ate!" Chuck screeches, horrified. He clings onto the car seat with both hands as Mike laughs.

Chuck's screams and Mike's loud, joyous shouting and whooping can be heard far and wide throughout Motorcity as they race all the way back home.

[lloydenthusiast]

hawthorn

Brad thinks he’s everything. Sun-kissed skin that he just wants to touch, to feel. Freckles speckling his barren shoulders; all Brad can seem to think about is kissing each and every one. Scars he wishes he could trace his fingers along. Long, golden curls cascading over his shoulders, shifting as he pulls his hair into a high ponytail, muscles flexing and moving beneath his skin. He’s ankle-deep in the water. Lloyd is everything.

rest under the cut! cw alcohol mention

He must feel Brad’s gaze on him because he turns. Smiles his beautiful, bright grin and says “Staring again, are we?” And all Brad can seem to think about is kissing him. So maybe he’s a little tipsy, but even if he weren’t? Would he not feel the same? Lloyd’s emerald eyes shimmer, dark as they survey Brad. He hums. Takes a few steps through the sand toward Brad and as he get closer, Brad finds he’s a little dizzy. Drunk-dazed on Lloyd, a little bit high on life. On the goodness of the world around them. “Close your mouth, babe,” Lloyd says. He presses his fingers to the bottom of Brad’s chin, closing his mouth for him. “You’ll catch flies.” Brad flushes, and forces himself to look away. “I know I’m hot, but seriously,” Lloyd says, turning away. “You’re absurd.” Brad unwraps the towel from around his now-dry shoulders and whacks him with it in response. They were swimming in the lake, but as the sun sets and the visibility’s getting poor, they’re dancing on the sand instead. Lloyd laughs. “Rude,” he says, turning back to Brad. Brad finds himself breathless, just by looking at him. The sun setting on the water before them gives Lloyd a halo of sorts, illuminating him prettily. “You’re incredible,” Brad whispers, before he can stop himself. Lloyd gives him a look. “Quit being so gay.” He walks back to Brad. Takes the towel from his hand and wraps it again around Brad’s shoulders. He gives Brad a fond look, one that has Brad stammering and spluttering. He wishes he could say something smooth. Something sort of cheesy, but he finds his mind blank, unable to produce thoughts with Lloyd oh, so close. “Come on, let’s start the fire.” Lloyd walks off, headed toward the fire pit a few meters up the sand. Brad stumbles after him.

The cicadas have started screaming, filling the night sky with their not-so-harmonious cries. The sun has fully dipped beneath the horizon. The lamps up at the cabin turn on, and the little solar-powered lights stuck in the ground a few weeks ago illuminate the path from the beach, through the woods, to the house. Lloyd kneels before a pile of logs, match in hand, as he strikes the strip on the side of the matchbox until it ignites. Then, he drops it into the logs, prodding the kindling with it. Slowly, the flame grows. “I’m glad it isn’t windy,” Lloyd says. “We won’t have to worry so much about smoke in our eyes.” Brad nods. “Yeah.” He takes a seat in one of the chairs settled into the sand. Lloyd takes his own lawn chair and moves it right up next to Brad’s, so the arms are overlapping. Lloyd plops into his chair, taking the blanket from the back of the chair and wrapping it around them both, snuggling into Brad’s side. “What’s up with you today?” Lloyd asks, pulling away slightly to eye Brad’s face. “You’re so …” He waves a hand. “You know.” Brad looks at him. At the side of his face illuminated by the fire. Sharp eyes and soft cheeks. A few curls have fallen from his ponytail, framing his face prettily. “I’m in love with you,” Brad whispers. “That’s what’s up.” Brad can’t help himself. He reaches out. Tucks the curls behind Lloyd’s ear as his cheeks turn pink. “You’re just … you’re incredible, Lloyd.” “And you’re a tipsy sap,” Lloyd laughs. “Come on, don’t be so mushy gushy.” “Sorry.” And he means it. “It’s hard not to be.” Lloyd’s eyes widen. He laughs brightly, giving Brad a shove. “Seriously. You’re so cheesy.” Brad shrugs. It’s hard to feel bad for it when he’s just so … “Come on! Quit looking at me like that!” Lloyd takes Brad’s face in his hands, squeezing his cheeks. “You’re too cheesy. How do I turn off the cheesy?” “Not possible,” Brad manages to say, through his squished mouth. “I love you.” Lloyd wrinkles his nose. “Ick,” he says. But he smacks a kiss on Brad’s mouth. “I love you, too.” And turns back to the fire, smiling as a plume of flames reaches toward the sky. Smoke curls from the tip, fortunately blowing up, not in either of their faces. Brad can’t seem to look away, so Lloyd sighs, turns back to him, and kisses him properly. He cups Brad’s jaw, pressing their lips together sweetly. Brad melts, cupping the back of Lloyd’s neck, fiddling with a curl. “There,” Lloyd says. “Happy?” “When I’m with you?” Brad smiles. “Always.”

[henswilsons]

think about all the places we could go

buck/eddie | 2k+ | ao3

“I,” Athena says, slowly, “have a lot of questions.”

“That’s understandable,” Eddie says. “Take your time.”

Athena takes two long, deep breaths. The other officer next to her doesn’t seem to know where to look; Buck sees him desperately pretend to be interested in the one solitary picture Eddie has hanging on his wall, like their family trip to the zoo is pertinent to the matter at hand. “I don’t suppose anyone knows about this,” Athena says.

It’s not a question, but Buck is also currently wang-out in front of his boss’s wife, so he has enough self-preservation not to get caught on semantics, now. “Uh, no ma’am.”

“Don’t you ma’am me,” says Athena.

“Sorry.”

The other officer is now almost nose-to-nose to the picture with the force of his feigned ignorance. Athena just looks grieved. “Why, then,” she says, “did you get military-grade handcuffs? Were the pink fuzzy ones not macho enough for you?”

Her tone drips with derision. She’s absolutely going home to tell Bobby all about this. “We kept, uh, breaking the pink fuzzy ones,” Eddie admits, and then, “Buck, don’t preen.”

“I’m not preening,” Buck says, probably definitely preening, but like it’s his fault, okay? It’s good to know the bicep curls are working. “Look, we’re two big firefighters. Those flimsy sex store handcuffs weren’t gonna hold us.”

read on ao3!

[polaroidcats]

On the Origin of Gayness – Are All Gryffindors Actually Gay?

(another pseudo-scientific paper by cat)

Abstract

This paper examines the question of Homosexuality in the Gryffindor House, drawing from previous research as well as collected samples and interviews with several acclaimed marauders scholars, using mixed methods. Much uncertainty still exists around the relationship between Gayness and Gryffindor, so in this paper I will once again commit to the bit and evaluate scientific scholarship on tumbler dot com for your education and entertainment.

Introduction

This research was prompted by my esteemed colleague and collaborator @lynxindisguise who revolutionised the scientific community by asking “what if gryffindor is just where you go if you’re gay [?]” (lynxindisguise 2024), daring scholars to “name a straight gryffindor” (ibid). Several highly esteemed scholars such as @plecotusauritus (2024) and @kaleidoscopexsighs (2024) agree with lynxindisguise on her thesis, @werewolfenthusiast (2024) even went so far as to comment that this "would explain a lot" while acclaimed marauders scholar @spindrifters is asking lynxindisguise to “pls”, not elaborating further what they want lynxindisguise to “pls” do, leaving the reader with more questions that this paper hopes to answer.

This paper systematically reviews the data gathered from the popular blogging website tumblr.com on this topic, aiming to provide more insight and clarity on the question of what I have coined “Gryffindor Gayness”.

The overall structure of the paper takes the form of two parts: the main part is 1 The Gryffindor Ideology, Theses on Gryffindor, focusing on the question of Gryffindor Gayness, providing an in-depth analysis and discussion of Gryffindor Gayness. Part 2 Can the Slytherins be Gay? can be seen as a call to action for other Hogwartian Sexuality scholars to consider doing research in this promising field.

1. The Gryffindor Ideology, Theses on Gryffindor

1.1 The Dawn of Everything: A New History of Gryffindor

This section of the paper aims to give a quick overview of the history of Gryffindor Gayness. The term “Gryffindor” tends to be used almost synonymous with “Serving Cunt”, which can be seen as synonymous for “Gay”.

To answer the question “What the hell is a Gryffindor?”, readers are encouraged to also familiarize themselves with previous works on this topic (cf. The Sorting Hat 1997, 2000, 2003; The Scarf of Sexual Preference 2009, 2010, 2012).

The Sorting Hat, leading expert in all things Gryffindor, has done extensive research in various closets, stating “I’m the Hogwarts Sorting Hat, And I can cap them all” (The Sorting Hat 1997), and “You might belong in Gryffindor, Where dwell the brave at heart, Their daring, nerve and chivalry, Set Gryffindors apart” (ibid).

To fully understand this, additional context of the song is important to note: whenever the Sorting Hat says brave or chivalrous, or daring, most scholars agree that these can be read as synonyms for “gay”, “homosexual” and “serving cunt” respectively. With this alternative reading of the Sorting Hat’s song, Gryffindor Gayness starts to make more sense, but in their later work, the Sorting Hat elaborates more on this, referring to Godric Gryffindor as “the bravest [the gayest]” (The Sorting Hat 2000).

@wanderingdonut (2024), a certified expert on vibes of all stripes shared insightful and important scholarship on the inherently homosexual symbolism of swords, and was the first scholar to draw the connection between the sword of Godric Gryffindor and Homosexuality, stating:

“as everyone knows, swords are the gayest accessory (the point is designed to penetrate? Please. And we all know everyone is gay for a woman with a sword), so really, it was godric who set everyone up for gayness.”

Further proving that Homosexuality has been connected to the House of Gryffindor from the beginning, as was intended by its founder. Wanderingdonut (2024) then goes on to say:

“There is nothing gayer than being bonked on the head with gayness at a deeply inconvenient time and Godric wants that for all his children”,

again stating explicit intent of homosexuality by the founding daddy of Gryffindor house, Godric Gryffindor.

Marauders scholar @fruityindividual also indirectly refers to Godric Gryffindor’s intentional mandate of homosexuality by describing the accommodations for Gryffindor students as having “cosy beds” and forcing proximity, thus leading to Gryffindor Gayness.

1.2 Gryffindor Trouble: Gayness and the Subversion of Identity

In this chapter I will give some examples for Gryffindor Gayness, illustrating why the initial assumption that all Gryffindors are Gay (cf. lynxindisguise 2024) is such an important, one could almost say revolutionary addition to this field of science.

1.2.1 The Weasley Family

The Weasley Family are one of the most prominent Gay/Gryffindor families, making them ideal subjects for this study.

Molly and Arthur Weasley have both been known to be into swinging, often asking couples to be their third and using rubber ducks in many creative ways, setting a good example for their many gay children (cf. polaroidcats 2024).

Fred and George Weasley are both known to have dated Lee Jordan at the same time, “Lee thought he was only dating one of them but forgot which one and was not brave enough to ask” (polaroidcats 2024), which makes Fred and George both perfect examples of that mischievous flavor of Gryffindor Gayness the Weasley family seems to be known for.

However one of the most prominent examples for Gryffindor Gayness in the Weasley family is the youngest child, Ginevra (“Ginny”) Weasley.

Wanderingdonut (2024) claims that “everyone is gay for a woman with a sword. Particularly if it’s Ginny Weasley with a sword”, calling her a “lesbian queen”. Similarly, plecotusauritus (2024) states that “Ginny had a new girlfriend every two weeks but it never got mentioned since it wasnt [sic!] important part of Harry's journey”, introducing not only Ginny’s tendency to fall into her parents’ promisingly promiscuous footsteps, but also highlighting an important aspect of her relationship with Harry James Potter.

@kaaaaaaarf (2024) elaborates further on this idea of compulsory heteronormativity in relation to Ginny’s relationships:

“That girl [Ginny] is a lesbian and I will not be convinced otherwise. I think half the reason her and Harry were drawn to each other is because they recognized (even subconciously) that the other gave off queer vibes, and therefore was a safe person to be with in a heteronormative society. I truly believe that eventually she met a woman and fell in love”

The Homosexuality of the Weasley family is well-documented and widely accepted among scholars of the field. One more example for this can be found in the next section of this paper, discussing the compulsory heteronormative tendencies of certain Gryffindors.

1.2.2 The Golden Trio and Compulsory Heteronormativity

In this section I will explore the parallels between Harry and Ginny’s relationship and Hermione and Ron’s relationship that I have found in my research.

Plecotusauritus (2024) raises the point of “Ron having a major crush on Krum” and elaborates that Ron eventually decides “that he was actually jealous of Hermione and not Krum, and commiting to the bit so hard they end up married (but will eventually find a way for them both to act on their queer tendencies)”, bringing up the idea of compulsory heteronormativity.

This sentiment is mirrored in kaaaaaaarf’s (2024) description of Harry and Ginny’s relationship, where the scholar states that “when [Ginny] finally talked to Harry about it [falling in love with a woman] he wasn't really upset at all. This sent him on his own spiral, realizing that he might not be as straight as he thought he was...”

When asked about favorite Gay Gryffindor moments, scholar lynxindisguise (2024) replied with: “harry being unable to talk about cedric or sirius without mentioning them handsoming [sic!] handsomely down the stairs”.

Likewise, the scholar kaaaaaaarf (2024) replied to the same question as follows:

“I think every time Harry made some sort of comment about how attractive other men were/his obsession with Draco. No straight person is that obsessed with their same sex arch enemy, I'm sorry.”

Scholar @greengrug (2024) also refers to Harry’s obsession with Draco Malfoy, stating that he “takes a permanent residence in the love-to-hate you part of the brain. Two powerful emotions combined to create an unwavering obsession that can't be forgotten.”

Greengrug (ibid) also points out the inherent heteronormativity of the love triangle between Harry James Potter, Cho Chang and Cedric Diggory, elaborating on Harry’s feelings of jealousy and mourning leading him to participate in the classic comphet ritual of kissing your dead lover’s ex girlfriend next to his picture:

“Harry is jealous of Cho being with Cedric! Why else would he kiss her next to his picture next year? Anyone else can see how horridly inappropriate that is. Clearly only a mourning gryffingay could be driven to that point.” (ibid).

1.2.3 The Marauders

Before evaluating the individual Gayness of each member of the friend group known as “the Marauders” (see also my previous work on their crying practises, polaroidcats 2023), a common thread in the gayness of all four members is, as marauders scholar fruityindividual puts it “the scantily-clad special alone times in the sheesh shed”, raising the important question of where the wizard’s clothes go when they change from their animagus form back to their human forms, an area that has been overlooked by science thus far. There is little to be known about it, but it can be assumed that most time any of the marauders has spent in the “sheesh shed”, as the expert calls it, must have been spent naked. Further research on this topic is encouraged. 

1.2.3.1 Sirius Black

The added context of Gryffindor Gayness allows for a much more interesting reading of Sirius Black being sorted into Gryffindor. Acclaimed Sirius Black expert plecotusauritus (2024) states that “deep down his [Sirius’] parents knew that this might happen. It was still bit of a shock to this notably straight family.”, referencing the Black family tradition of Slytherin Super Straightness.

1.2.3.2 Remus Lupin

Remus Lupin is one of the most interesting examples for Gryffindor Gayness, proving simultaneously that being Gay is and is not a choice. According to lynxindisguise (2024), Remus “chose gryffindor because he immediately fell in love with sirius on the train and then felt bad when he saw him get sorted into gryffindor and look scared”, proving that being gay is a choice. In my own previous research, I have stated that “Neville’s first crush was Remus Lupin” (polaroidcats 2024), to which spindrifters (2024) has since added the important addition that “remus lupin was also dean thomas's gay awakening”, stating that “there is canon evidence for this across like 3 books”, proving once and for all that being gay is not a choice.

1.2.3.3 James Potter

James Potter is another fascinating example of Gryffindor Gayness, because he was in what the scholars call a “bi4bi” relationship with Lily Evans, another Gryffindor Gay, proving that Gryffindor Gayness is inclusive of Bisexuality and possibly also other queer sexualities. Further research on this topic would be necessary to find a definitive list of sexual orientations that can be subsumed under Gryffindor Gayness, but James Potter and Lily Evans are probably most if not all of them at the same time.

1.2.3.4 Peter Pettigrew

Peter Pettigrew is still the nastiest skank bitch I have ever met, I do not trust him and he is a fugly slut. He was also in love with James and fandom would be all over that Gryffindor Gayness if Peter hadn’t been portrayed as unattractive, but that is a different topic for another paper.

1.3 Gryffindor Realism

This chapter illustrated different examples of Gryffindor Gayness across various generations and genders. There are countless more examples that I encourage scholars to explore. One could argue that there are also straight Gryffindors, but one would be wrong, all Gryffindors are gay. The last section of this paper examines the question of why some non-Gryffindors are also (seemingly) gay and provides further questions for future researchers to consider.

2. Can the Slytherins Be Gay?

The question of why there are also non-Gryffindors who are gay can be answered by referring readers to section 1.2.2 The Golden Trio and Compulsory Heteronormativity. Children are sorted into these houses at eleven years old, so some children might develop their Homosexual tendencies only later in life, or they might try and hide them from the sorting hat. Black family scholar plecotusauritus (2024) also raises the important point of Bellatrix Lestrange (née Black) threatening the Sorting Hat so bad that she got sorted into Slytherin instead of Gryffindor.

3 Conclusion

Previous studies of Hogwartian Sexualities have failed to identify the precise reasoning for students of other houses also showing signs of Gayness. In this article I hope to help close that research gap by focusing on Gryffindor Gayness, but further research into Hufflepuff, Slytherin and Ravenclaw Sexualities would be necessary for a more systematic approach. With more time and funding, I hope to address these issues in future research.

Future research questions that could be asked include “Why was Gilderoy Lockhardt in Ravenclaw?”, “Who are the Slytherin Super Straights?” and “What the hell is a Hufflepuff?”.

The most obvious findings to emerge from this research project are the confirmation of Gryffindor Gayness in all members of the Weasley family, the Marauders and the Golden Trio, as well as other Gryffindors, and the exploration of compulsory heteronormativity as a possible explanation for Non-Gryffindor Gayness, as well as atypical Gryffindor behaviour. Considerably more work will need to be done to determine the precise circumstances of phenomena such as Slytherin Super Straights, Hufflepolyamory and Ravenclaw Aces, and I hope to be able to do research on these soon.

[quirkle2]

[zombie au] when ur.when ur brotherturns into a z.when ur brother turns into a zombie and u spend the next several years of ur childhood braving the most fucked up shit ever so u can find a cure and it gets to the point where ur killing parts of urself just to pick up the pieces of ur brother with shaking, cut up hands and glue him back together but at that point ur just going to end up bringing him back to a world that's not worth living in

[reallydumbdannyphantomaus]

Holiday Truce

@ectopal so fucking sorry for the lateness!!! it has been a little wild in my life lately but i did get it done!!! i picked your prompt of dash finds out danny's secret in micromanagement. very sorry if this is not what you were hoping for, but here's what happened :D

“So,” Dash said.

“Uh,” Fenton said.

Dash looked at the shaking nerd in front of him. Fear, he recognized. Fear, he knew. He used it as a weapon, knew how to loom, how to make himself larger and intimidating. Hell, he’d seen it on Fenton plenty of time before.

Except this time Fenton wasn’t afraid of his fists.

“You’re—you’re he? Him?”

“No?”

“Are you lying?”

“... No?”

Dash reached out with a finger and poked Fenton in the shoulder. It was solid. Squishy, but he thought that had more to do with Fenton not being muscular than with him being a ghost. Still, he knew what he saw. This whole time, he’d been shrunk down with Phantom, the cool, brave, awesome hero of Amity Park, the guy he had a poster of in his locker. Then they get unshrunk and Phantom is gone. In his place: Fenton.

Dash wasn’t the best at math, but even he could add this up.

There were thousands of things he could have asked in that moment. Things he’d wanted to say to his hero for years. Thanks for saving us or Can you take me flying? or Can I have your autograph? Instead, what came out was: “So, are you dead?”

Fenton flinched. “No, I—it doesn’t matter. Just—just be quiet, okay?”

“It doesn’t matter?” Dash wanted to thwack himself in the head. He didn’t want to be continuing this line of questioning. Why was his mouth saying this shit?

“Not to you, anyway.” Fenton spoke with such vehemence that all at once Dash was reminded that Fenton being Phantom also meant that Phantom was Fenton. His hero was the same nerd he’d been shoving in lockers since middle school.

“Oh.”

“Look. Just don’t tell anyone, okay? No one would believe you anyway, so just don’t tell anyone.”

“Okay,” Dash said, voice thready and small. What else could he say? Fenton could’ve been kicking his ass all this time, but instead he’d been saving it. If nothing else, Dash could keep a secret.

“Good,” Fenton said, turning to leave.

“Why?”

Fenton stopped without turning around. “Why what?”

“Why don’t you tell people?”

Fenton’s voice was nasal through his sneer. “Try thinking about it. I’m sure the answer will come to you.”

—

The answer did not come to him.

He watched Fenton from a distance, noticed all the signs he dismissed before. Constant bathroom breaks. Bruises in the morning that were gone by the afternoon. Gasps of blue air that always preceded a ghost.

But he never saw why Fenton kept it quiet.

Teachers yelled at him for being late. Other students laughed behind their hands when he fell asleep at his desk. Paulina watched him rush out of class to the “bathroom” and whispered, “He should start wearing a diaper to school if he goes so much.” He tried to chuckle, but all he could manage was the slight curling of his mouth, and even that was strained. Paulina would never say something like that if she knew the truth. Fenton would have so much support from everyone in the school if he would just tell them the truth.

So, yeah. He didn’t get the secrecy.

Fenton, though, had avoided Dash like the plague. He’d never sought Dash’s company out before, but now the sight of Dash’s shadow was enough to have him scampering away. He tried to corner Fenton once, in the janitor’s closet, but forgot about the whole ghost thing. Since there was no one else around to see, Fenton just walked through the back wall, leaving Dash alone with the mops.

What was he supposed to do?

It felt like a secret of this magnitude should change things more. True, he couldn’t bring himself to shove people around anymore (what if some of them were secret heroes, too?) but otherwise, life went on. He went to football practice. He failed his math test. He laughed when Kwan made fun of Lancer’s pants falling down (again).

He stared at Danny Fenton across the cafeteria.

Danny Fenton did not look back.

—

No one in Amity Park liked the Guys in White. They only ever got in the way of Phantom trying to do his job, while being utterly ineffective. Even the Fentons did more to keep the city safe from dangerous ghosts—mostly through supplying anti-ghost tech and not through actual hunting, but it was still more than the GIW ever did.

So when the GIW locked down the school, most everyone rolled their eyes in disgust.

Every once in a while, the GIW had one of these sessions. He wasn’t entirely sure what the point of them was, but it usually involved a bunch of dumb questions about whether they’d talked to any ghosts. Like they were all conspiring against the government with the ghosts, or something.

(Well, he probably would, given the opportunity, but he hadn’t exactly talked to a lot of ghosts who weren’t trying to kill him. The only ghost he knew personally hated being in the same room as him.)

“Have you had any contact with the ghost masquerading as a musician, known as Ember McClain?” The agent in white drummed his fingers on the desk. Dash had the sudden urge to bite his pinky.

Dash furrowed his brow. “I think she is actually a musician, though?”

“What?”

“Ember. She does, actually, like, play guitar and sing. So I think she’s a real musician? Just. You know. A ghostly one.”

The agent leaned into his face. “So you have had contact with her.”

Dash leaned back. “Uh, no? Not since the time she mind controlled a bunch of us. Which I don’t think is my fault.”

“And you haven’t sought her out since?”

“Uh, no. I don’t actually enjoy being mind controlled.”

“Hm. And the menace known as Phantom?”

Dash barely kept his shoulders from tensing. “What about Phantom?”

“Have you contacted him?”

“I mean, he’s saved me a couple times. But he saves everyone.”

The agent snorted. “That’s what the ghosts want you to think, kid. Make no mistake: all ghosts are the same: evil, greedy, and power-hungry. We don’t yet know what Phantom’s true intentions are. It’s our job to get that creature off the streets and into containment, where he belongs.”

Dash was never the smartest person, but sometimes, when all the pieces were in front of him, he could add two and two and get four. He remembered the Fentons echoing the agent in front of him almost word-for-word. Or maybe this agent was echoing them.

Either way, Dash finally knew why Danny Fenton had a secret.

Dash curled his hands into fists. Fenton didn’t want to talk to him; that much was abundantly clear. But Fenton had still saved his life, saved the lives of everyone in the town, the world even. He could do this much for him.

“Look, dude, you think what you want,” Dash said. “I can’t exactly change your mind. Never been good at persuasion. But,” he said, and he stood up, crossing his arms and hooding his eyes, “no one else here believes your bullshit, dude. We know the truth, no matter what you say.”

“Mr. Baxter, the science—”

“I don’t care what studies you’ve faked. I’m telling you right now that if you seriously go after Phantom like you would any other ghost, you’re going to have to go through the whole town first,”

And Dash wasn’t very smart. And he wasn’t persuasive. But he knew fear. He was 16. This agent was probably somewhere in his thirties. By no means should the man be afraid of him. But Dash knew how to make himself bigger. Dash knew just where to strike someone, just what made them scared. This man was only as brave as his badge. A whole insurrection? One aimed at him? That thought terrified him.

The man was silent.

Dash smiled a shark’s smile. “Do yourselves a favor and leave Amity Park alone. We’ve got it handled from here.”

The door swung shut behind him as he left the agent alone in a dark room, still stuttering for a response.

[sluckythewizard]

BUT IM NOT A WRITER. something strange possessed me to write my first proper fanfic in maybe a decade. be niceys to me but also grill me so i can get stronger. this one is a stupidly self indulgent bit between Soda and Emizel, a day or so after emizel was sired. CW for gore descriptions, but thats about it i think. image below is a snippet of the start. the rest of the whole dang thing will be under the cut. ive never posted fanfic ever in my life. read my tags for secret behind da scenes commentary

"Oh shit… I think hes dead…" It was another night, another patrol, another fight, and another win, for Emizel and Soda.

Under moonlight, under street light, under interwoven wires above, the two stood here in a quiet and damp alleyway. The air was drenched with the smell of a previous rain, and the puddles of said storm remain huddled in corners and pot holes.

One splashed as soda found himself stepping forwards into one. The residual adrenaline of the fight had left his body shaking, his heart still pounding, his wounds still throbbing. They had still won; or more-so, Emizel had won. A particularly nasty blow to the side had Soda reduced to the side lines for most of the fight, left to watch as his newly vampiric comrade had absolutely eviscerated the competition.

Emizel had only been turned a day ago, but it was impossible not to notice how it had changed him. He already acted so goddamn confident, so on top of the world, and this newfound power, newfound speed and strength, only built upon his insane ego.

The Fangs that they encountered here on this night stood no fucking chance. Emizel was too quick, too strong, and he easily chased off the rivals. It was only now, as the final unfortunate opponent had turned to flee, a clean clock in the jaw sent the human tumbling to the ground with a dull thump, and it did not move afterward.

Soda shifts his shoe out of the puddle, the cold seeping into his sock being one of the few things keeping his mind in his body in the moment. Is the guy breathing?

A low laugh bleeds from Emizel as he stretches his arms, licking his sharpened teeth as he stares off in the direction the remaining Fangs went. Soda knew that look on his face, the look of a tiger pondering on its next kill, he knew well that Emizel wanted to chase them.

But the guy on the ground.. It was one punch to the face, and the wicked crack sound that came from it had planted a seeding dread within Sodas chest.

As he steps forward, around the puddle, the resulting sound made Emizels attention click back over to Soda, the snap of his gaze making Soda flinch.

The two lock eyes, and Soda weakly gestures to the limp body on the floor. "The uh.. I think.. Is that guy dead?" He finally asks, having a hard time keeping contact with Emizels intensely red eyes.

Emizel turns his attention to said body, tilting his head as he goes to kick at the thing, turning it over. "Man no way hes dead, I punched him once." He mutters.

"Well, yeah, but his head almost twisted all the way around when you did.." Soda steps up to stand beside Emizel, the two boys standing with their hands in their pockets, down at this unfortunate, limp body.

"Should we hide it?" Soda asks, glancing back over at Emizel, who had.. An odd look on his face. He was clearly pondering something, but Soda could only guess whatever was going on in that brilliant head of his. He knew and trusted that Emizel was smart. If anyone could figure out what to do about this, it would be him.

But the lack of an answer had anxiety chewing at the back of Sodas rib cage, and after a second, he speaks up again, compelled to fill what he perceived as a tense silence. "Like.. I dunno, I've never uh... killed a guy..." He shrugs, prompting Emizel to let out a big sigh.

"He's not dead man, just out fuckin cold." Emizel kneels down next to the body, putting an ear up to its chest, and pondering on that for a moment. An uncertainty twists his expression, as he decides to instead place a hand on the victims throat, checking for a pulse. A moment passes, and seemingly finding nothing, he pulls back.

"Uh... Okay, so he might be dead."

Something about the confirmation from Emizel made a shiver run up Sodas spine. That, or maybe it was just the breeze agitating the cold water in his shoe.

"Huh… Damn.." Was all that Soda could really get to leave his mouth. Which was hardly a splash compared to the torrent that was slowly churning in his head. They just killed a guy. Or, Emizel just killed a guy. And it was so easy. They had to hide the body now, right? That was the usual progression here? Getting caught for murder was way more extreme than getting caught for breaking mailboxes with soda cans. It was so, so disturbingly easy. It really was just one punch. It's not like the Fangs are weak by any means, so just one punch? And this guy is dead? Forever?

Or, perhaps by human means, their rivals were fairly tough. But Emizel was on a whole other level. No mortal could stand up to him now...

"Hey, are you okay?"

The question had pulled Soda back from his head, his gaze flicking back over to Emizel, who was looking up at him with those eerie, piercing red eyes. Soda felt another shiver.

"Uh, ieah man, I'm all good." Soda nods, swallowing down whatever anxiety was bubbling up in his throat.

But Emizel didn't seem satisfied by his answer, standing back up and staring down his human comrade. Soda couldn't meet his eyes, his gaze instead traveling downward, and pausing on Emizels red, cut-up shirt. There was something off about the color, the way it seemed darker in some spots, brighter in others.. Wait, wasn't Emizel wearing a white shirt before all this?

The vampire boy seems to pick up on Sodas expression, following his eyes down to his shirt. "Oh, yeah! While you were on the floor, the knife guy got me a little" He says, a stupidly simple smile on his face. Soda was about to let out a laugh at how unbothered his friend seemed by it, but it gets caught in his throat when Emizel goes to pull his shirt up.

The sound of the bloodied fabric peeling away from skin made Sodas own skin crawl, but that wasn't nearly as bad as the sight of the intense gash running from his collar bone, down to his stomach.

"Oh, fuck dude!" Soda gasps, but Emizel laughs it off. Even despite knowing Emizel well, Soda was still surprised by just how much Emizel could shrug off. "Shit, doesn't that hurt, dude?"

"Oh yeah this fucking hurts!" he says with a laugh, his smile big and toothy and proud as he presents this egregious wound. Swollen and angry, pulsing with a slow heartbeat, and still oozing with thick, dark blood.

The sight of the split flesh, and the glints of bone beneath the dark, dark red all tugged at Sodas gag reflex, and yet he couldn't pull his eyes away. So Emizel's just been walking and talking so normally this whole time with his chest just cleaved wide open? Soda felt just as impressed as he felt horrified.

It wasn't until Emizel reaches down to poke at the abhorrent wound that Soda snaps out of it. Watching his friend press his fingers into the bloodied flesh, and slowly pulling it apart, allowing more ichor to seep from the gash, it was too much to watch at this point.

Soda reaches up to put a hand on Emizels wrist, the vampire boy stopping, and looking up at his friend.

Soda found himself freezing again when he locks eyes with Emizel. He was going to say something now, right? "U-uhm.." Is all he really chokes out, giving Emizels wrist a gentle tug. "D-do you. Uh. I suppose a hospital Isn't a place you can go anymore..?"

Emizel just smirks at that, letting Soda pull his hand away from the wound. "Oh, yeah no, but it's fine. I mean, I don't think it's gonna kill me" He shrugs. It was so, so impressive just how unphased Emizel was by all this. Fuck he's actually so cool.

"Well yeah man but it's like, still a bleeding hole. Like you're soaked in blood dude, I'm pretty sure that even a vampire needs that stuff on like, the inside." Soda rubs the back of his head, still unnerved by the sight of it all. "Vampires have like, super healing, don't they?"

"Oh yeah like, regeneration powers. I know I heal faster sometimes but I dunno how to just, activate it on command.." Emizel hums, his eyes narrowing down at his own injury, as if trying to will it into mending. Soda looks away, unable to watch that vile gash ooze any longer.

"I dunno man, how do they do it in like, video games?" Soda tosses the question out, trying to click together some sort of solution in his own head.

"Uhhh.. Huh, video games.." Emizel repeats to himself, chewing on the thought while idly poking at the laceration; until an idea audibly flickers to life in his head. "Oh, I just gotta refill my blood meter. Or whatever."

"Oooh yeah, blood meter!" Soda perks up, "Of course, see this is why you're the brains, man" Soda smiles, glancing back over to his cool friend, but immediately needing to look away again when the sight of that egregious gash tugs bile back into his throat.

While Soda averts his eyes, Emizels eyes wander back over to the body, and that classic 'Emizel has a bad idea' smile creeps across his face.

"Well, if this guys dead, I'm sure he's not gonna need all that blood.." He grins, kneeling down next to the body again.

The word 'wait' had hardly gotten the chance to crawl from Sodas mouth, before Emizel lifts up the arm of the unfortunate body, pulling the sleeve back, and immediately sinking his teeth into the exposed wrist.

The sound and the sight of blood gushing around Emizels teeth made Soda cringe, his hand impulsively coming up to aide his own wrist. An empathetic phantom pain made his wrist ache, his imagination simulating the feeling of shark teeth cutting into skin, sinking deep into the flesh, and clacking against bone. That was a lot of blood, that was streaming down the arm of this fodder.

A low growl bleeds from Emizel as he adjusts his teeth, cutting into more flesh, opening the wound further, and allowing a pulsing torrent of red to stream down his chin, onto his coat. It was an annoying thing, to clean blood out of clothing. Most of the Demons deemed it easier to just let the stains remain. But the night that Emizels throat was torn open, and liters upon liters were granted freedom from his human form, the unbelievable mess had practically changed half the color of Emizels iconic coat.

That was the first time Soda had ever seen that much blood from one person. And well. This would probably be the second.

The sight was unnerving, but it was impossible to look away. The alley was quiet, save for the distant bustle of a distant city, which made the noisy squish and squelch of teeth gnawing on flesh all the more apparent and nauseating.

Emizel had become a monster for sure, and watching it feed on something was… thrilling, in a way. It reminded Soda of feeding a pet spider, or lizard. A mouse for a snake.

It's a heavy thing to witness, the end of a human life. The fear of death is a primal thing, and Soda was no different from any other living thing. He figured everyone else feared death just as much as he does. Well, maybe except for Emizel, of course.

It made sense. Emizel was such a cocky and noisy kind of guy, but hes always had the power to back it up. Even when he lost, or seemed at his lowest, Soda still saw this sort of fire in him, one that Soda admired.

Of course Emizel would be the one to become something like a vampire. Something that Soda had always figured was just a fantasy creature thing. He wondered; if vampires were real, what else was real? Werewolves? Zombies? Unicorns? Are there real demons? Like from hell? Is hell real? Is he going to hell?

The sudden ttteeeeaaaaarrrr of flesh rips soda from his wandering thoughts. Emizel was tugging his head away from the arm of his kill, his teeth clamped down into the chewed meat, and pulling it apart. Soda had seldom seen so much of the inside of a human arm, and the sight of spilling threads and squirming veins was hardly something he ever wanted to stomach again.

"Oh fuck, dude, hey-" Soda steps forward, raising a hand, but the way Emizel snaps his head back over to him, twisting to an unnatural degree, Soda cant help jolting back.

Reddened teeth glint menacingly in the low light, a threatening growl thundering from its clenched, dripping jaws. Emizels eyes were focused, yet wild, glowing with whatever light they could reflect.

Sodas eyes were wide, and his body was frozen in the thick, electric tension within the air. It was like staring down an angry dog.. Suddenly a light bulb in his head flickers to life. It was kind of like an angry dog, right? One hunched over a meal it didn't want to give up. Memories of old encounters and unfortunate dog bites resurface in Sodas head, and with that experience, and with those lessons learned, he gathers the courage to react.

He shuts his eyes, keeping them closed for a few seconds, as he slowly pulls back his arm, and slowly steps back. It was an eye contact thing, wasn't it? Eye contact makes dogs angry, right? That was how you dealt with an angry dog? As he pulls back, and takes in a breath for composure, he finally dares to peek at the angry vampire before him again.

Its snarling had died down, but its eyes were still trained intently on Soda. After a tense, and agonizingly, slow pause... It blinks back, lowering its head back down to its meal, but keeping its anxious stare on this potential threat.

A relieved sigh falls from soda as the tension finally melts. He didnt realize he was holding in so much of his breath. "O-okay, man.. It's yours, you uh.. Earned it.." Soda mutters, stepping back further, until he was standing in a sufficiently dry enough space to sit down in. Now that he wasn't standing, he was finally taking into mind just how much his hands were shaking.

It's odd. Soda couldn't really describe this feeling thrumming in his chest as something like fear.. Nausea? For sure. Disturbed and rattled? Oh absolutely. This was certainly a sight he would have a hard time scrubbing from his eyelids when he sleeps tonight. But he wasn't scared. The memory of the night that Emizel was sired still coated the inside of his mind like an unwashable film. Even in that moment, when the unnatural teeth from the unnatural maw of an unnatural thing hovered over his throat, he couldn't say with confidence that he was scared.

Emizel really is his best friend in the world. And he knows with his whole heart that Emizel feels the same. He knew and trusted that his best friend would never hurt him. Not too badly at least. He loves Emizel, and would give anything to support him.

Like a mouse to a snake.

This really is an incredible power that his comrade had come across, and Soda especially felt a sort of pride in his friend. He felt it was worth it to help him feed it.

The bile in his throat had made its point, and Soda agreed, that watching someone die, and get torn apart and drained might be too much for him. Despite how much he hated the Fangs, the end of any human life seemed like such a jarring thing. To have such an intense fear finally get confronted. Would he go to hell?

Maybe he couldn't just feed people to his friend. So an alternative could be donated blood, right? Soda wouldn't mind giving up something like blood. His body makes it for free, after all. Maybe some other Demons would agree to give up some blood too. But they shouldn't have to take on such a burden. Soda wouldn't mind being the only one. The only one. The only one.

His hand comes up to rub at his neck, as his imagination conjures up what it might feel like to have teeth sink into his flesh. He's been stabbed before, is that sort of what it would feel like? Would he have to get stitches? He didn't really want to get stitches, so maybe there could be a more effective way to get the blood out of him. And there was so much vital stuff in his neck too. There's' a vein that's safe to cut into somewhere, right? He would have to look that up later.

A STARTLING RINGING;

Splits the moment,

Prompting both Soda and Emizel to jolt in shock,

As the phone in Emizels pocket rings away.

Acting as if nothing abnormal had taken place, Emizel pulls out his phone, and answers it.

"Heyy, Johnny! Yeah we chased em off, I don't think those bastards will be infesting this street again anytime soon. Yeah, ieah we'll be heading back soon. Oh fuck yeah dude, save us some!"

Emizel covers the speaker of his Nokia, turning back to Soda with a big smile on his violently bloodied face. "They got some pizza waiting for us back home, dude!" he whispers out to him.

Soda does his best to crack a smile, and to suppress the look of unease that probably stained his face, as he stares at the literal murder scene that's been splattered about in front of him.

"Oh, yeah, hell yeah man.." He swallows down the bile again. "What kind of uh.. Soda did they get?"

Emizel ponders that, before turning back to the phone to ask Sodas question.

"Sprite and a big pack of that one strawberry mountain dew" Emizel tosses the answer back over to Soda, who gives a nod, and thumbs up.

Mountain dew is so neat, Soda really liked all the wacky flavors those guys come up with. The thought of going home and opening a can of soda was certainly a comfort. After witnessing all this blood and gore and viscera, Soda absolutely needed to get back home and get a nice cold glass of something bright red .

As Sodas mind wanders off to soda, Emizel wraps up the conversation on the phone, before hanging up, and standing up.

The movement had pulled Sodas mind back into the moment, enough for him to timidly voice a concern he's had since the start of this debacle.

"Uh, hey, so.. The body, should we… Uh.." He gestures vaguely to it, and Emizel grants it a nonchalant glance.

"Eh, I can toss it into a dumpster or something, I dunno. I'm sure its fine. I'll handle it."

The vampire boy goes to pick up the corpse, the wound in its mangled arm no longer even dripping with blood, the flesh pale from the absolute absence of red in its veins.

"Go ahead and meet me by that one mailbox, the one with the bullet hole in it." Emizel casually instructs, tossing the drained body over his shoulder. "I'll catch up."

"Uh, yeah, okay.." Soda musters up a nod, and the strength to rise back up to his feet, wincing as that bruise on his side makes itself loudly known again. He still felt anxious, but even despite it all, he knew he could trust Emizel to take care of things. He always does. "Just stay safe man, I'll see you there." Soda assures with a smile, and Emizel matches it, tossing him a wink. And then suddenly- -He's gone! If Soda had blinked he would've missed it, but he was fortunate enough to just barely catch the glimpse of Emizel darting off at an inhuman speed, probably looking for a place to dump the body. Right, he would take care of it. Emizel always makes sure his crew is taken care of. Well... Guess all that's left for Soda is for him to walk back to that meeting spot. He looks around the alley for a moment, taking in the sight of that enormous pool of blood in the middle of the concrete. Or whatever the floor of this alley is made from. He ponders on the present moment a little longer than he meant to, the shock of it all leaving him aimless for just a few, soothing moments of just, decompression. The night is quiet, vast, and cold, but the stresses of just the past 5 hours had left his body radiating with fiery aches and pains, so the chill of the occasional clawing breeze was welcomed. Except for when said breeze agitated the cold water still soaked into his sock. He should step in another puddle on his way back to even it out. The smell of rain still rested heavy in the air, heralding another storm on the horizon. There was that, and then, well, there was also the blood. The stench of it felt far too intense to just ignore it, the metallic miasma making itself maliciously unmistakable. Maybe the impending storm will wash this mess away... He looked forward to putting this unfortunate night behind him. With one last rattled, but deep breath, he stuffs his hands in his pockets, and turns away, strolling back over to the mailbox that Emizel had described.

He couldn't wait to get home and drink some soda with his friends.

[hoshiina]

pairing: hoshina soushirou x gn!reader (no prns)

request: hii ive been superr into kn8 recently and was wondering if i could req a lil hoshina fic/ imagine wherein theyre in an established relationship and like no one knows and reader can be like a capt or vice capt from a diff division who was visiting or like was also assigned to the same mission/ is the back up and if its ok to req that reader’s fighting style is like that of shinobu’s where its more on piercing motions rather than slicing. im a sucker for secret relationships where they just dont say it out loud but theyre not exactly hiding it either. thank uu

notes: you have a horrible ex (gender not mentioned), TYSM FOR THE REQ im so sorry it took so long to get to

wc: 1900

You didn’t have a good prior experience with dating in secret. Or rather, you had an awful experience before so near the beginning of your relationship when you had to decide what to do, it was a rather tough decision to make. You and Hoshina had been close friends since far before this relationship and so he knew all about how your ex had been seeing other people while keeping your relationship “private”. It was a no-brainer for him truly— he had told you that he thought to make it public before you had even mentioned it, but you asked him to wait a little first. While it thrilled you that he wouldn’t even hesitate to make your relationship known, he was the vice-captain of the famous 3rd division at the end of the day, and you were also a vice-captain yourself. If you had disclosed this to even your fellow officers, it would make it out somehow and that would make it a relatively big deal.

That being said, it still frightened you to keep a relationship private even if you knew Hoshina would never do anything horrible, making it a rather difficult decision for you to make.

Yet as time passed, you felt sure that you were okay with it being private. Rather, you almost preferred it that way. You the way Hoshina’s face would light up when you walked into a room and it would have people questioning him, only for him to smile and play it off somehow. Yet, he'd hold eye contact with you from across the room and smile— just at you. He'd very obviously look for excuses to come visit your division when he could get anyone else in the 3rd division to grab some documents— anyone who wasn't the vice-captain with loads and loads of things to do, yet only you would see the look he gave you when he walked into your captain's office. He’d then find time to pop by your office just to say a quick “love you” before he’d hurry back to his division to tackle the mountain of work he’d given himself. It was silly; there was no need for him to do so for a couple more minutes with someone he lived with, but he loved to be with you and you loved to be with him. And he'd do anything to make you happy.

Before you knew it, you were fine. Hoshina had washed away all the remaining hurt you felt from your past relationship, and you felt so safe with him. You were fine now.

“Soushirou, I think we should date secretly,” you said to him one day, and immediately he stopped what he was doing to sit next to you.

“Why?” he asked, eyes wide and tone serious. “I think we should share. If you're concerned about the media, surely it won't get out that quickly.” His voice softened. “Moreover, I'd like to brag about my lovely partner.”

You shook your head. “I'm alright now, Soushirou,” you said, softly but surely. “You make me feel alright.”

The look on his face softened and he looked so full of love it made you fluster. See? You'd be damned to let alone else see such an expression on his face.

“I'm thrilled,” he said, and you laughed a little. “No, I really am. How about we just tell close friends for now? And we can always tell more people later on. I'm serious when I say I want to brag about you a little.”

“That sounds great,” you said, a soft smile on your face. “I have some people I've been dying to share this news with too.”

It had been almost a year since the two of you started dating, and while you were both getting used to dating in secret by now, Hoshina was starting to get comfortable around you in public… almost a little too comfortable.

In the recent turn of events, the entire defense force had been far busier than ever, giving you both more work and less time to spend together. Although both of you loved the work you did, it was needless to say that you missed each other. A lot. This started to lead to quick kisses in an empty hallway or longing stares from across the meeting that lasted a little too long. You'd scold him later at night that people were going to start questioning it, but he truly couldn't care less anymore.

“But baby,” he said, his arms pulling you close. “I miss you.”

Your heart tightened as you leaned into his touch. You were in his room to wish him goodnight and scold him a little before you went to bed. You were calling it a day, but unfortunately, he wasn’t just yet. Your hands cupped his face as you rubbed your thumbs along his exhausted eyes. He didn’t need much sleep to keep him going, so he didn't really get eyebags, but you could tell he was tired.

“I miss you too,” you said and something in your heart broke a little. “If only we were in the same division at least.”

“Oh, if only,” he said.

“Soushirou, will you sleep soon?” you asked.

“I’m not sure…” he said, looking at the mountain of binders on his desk from all the research he was doing.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” you asked. “It’s probably quicker if we do it together.”

“No, go sleep,” he said. “It’s late enough as it is.”

“Then, together?” you asked, hopefully. It had been so long since he was last by your side while you fell asleep. “You look exhausted.”

He smiled softly and closed his laptop.

"Yeah," he said. "It's been a while since I fell asleep with you."

However, yet another week had gone by and there was no end to the work, and you were both utterly frustrated you couldn’t see each other. More of your kisses had been shared in empty offices than at home lately, and dinner was really the only time you had together. So at some point, you stopped caring about keeping your relationship private— if they find out, they find out.

It truly felt like a miracle when it was announced your division would be backing up the 3rd division in another kaiju attack. You had been so sick of watching Hoshina come home horribly beat up all the time ever since the kaiju attacks were often centred around the 3rd division base. You’d finally be of some help and you'd get to work with him.

Like Hoshina, you specialized in neutralizing smaller kaiju, and like Hoshina, you wielded a sword. Your division was only backing up the 3rd division, so you got to watch Hoshina expertly cut down kaiju and neutralize them while you made sure smaller yoju weren’t getting away. You loved watching Hoshina do what he did— there was such beauty in the way he used his blades. To others, it may look like some flashy moves from someone brimming with talent, but any sword user would see the careful foundational work behind every swing he did. It was truly nothing other than stunning to watch.

Yet, as more kaiju came his way and his suit seemed closer and closer to overheating, you couldn’t possibly just watch.

“Permission to backup Vice-Captain Hoshina, please,” you asked your operation room through your earpiece.

“Permission granted, please go ahead,” they immediately replied.

“Thank you,” you said and that was all you needed, you were rushing to his side. Oh, how you missed fighting with him. It was back when you were still a regular officer when Hoshina would often make time to help you with ways to use your sword that would fit you more— it’s been an awful long since then.

Hoshina had managed to slice just enough to expose a glimpse of the core, but that was all you needed. If the core was visible, you’d just pierce it— and you did exactly that. While Hoshina would slice at incredible speeds, you would pierce with your sword at precise gaps or points with impact.

“Oh, your work’s fantastic as always,” he said and you rolled your eyes.

“Says who,” you said.

These kaiju were just perfect for the way you worked together. They had an insanely hard shell so Hoshina would crack it in any way possible, and you'd jam your sword precisely into the cracks until you exposed the core. While it was tough work, you were ecstatic. It had been so long since you had worked with Hoshina and it reminded you of all the nights he had spent working with you. You had come so far— and he had been with you to get you this far.

Before you knew it, it was over— the honju had been neutralized and the yoju were taken care of. Before you knew it, Hoshina would be the grand vice-captain of the 3rd division that you had little connection with again.

“Reminded me of all that practice we would do so many years ago,” he said and that made you smile. He had treasured those moments too.

“I would love to tell you from back then that I’d actually make it somewhere,” you said to him. “That you weren’t merely wasting your time.”

“Not once had I not wished to help you,” he said immediately, almost cutting you off. “You couldn't possibly know just how thrilled I was to see another sword user.”

Your heart swelled— he meant the world to you.

There were a few of his officers nearby so you made sure to keep your voice down.

“How long have you loved me?” you asked, simply curious, but as soon as it left your lips you realized how awkward that sounded. “Sorry—”

“For forever,” he said, without hesitation. “Truly since we’d train all those years ago.”

Your eyes widened. You didn't expect that for some reason.

“Gosh, I’m just stupid, aren’t I?” you said, flabbergasted. If you had just cleared your mind, you wouldn’t have gotten played around by that stupid ex of yours and you would’ve been with him for so much longer.

“No,” he said, breaking eye contact, looking horribly ashamed. “I was just lame as hell. If I wasn’t a coward I wouldn’t have let an asshole take you away.”

You laughed. “I think that one was on me,” you said. “It’s okay, we’ll make up for lost time now.”

“Do you know that I love you?” he asked and that made you chuckle. You did.

“I love you too,” you said.

Your conversation was not loud enough for anyone to hear, and that was okay. It was just for the two of you. However, saying all this didn’t change the original problem of the sheer lack of time you had to spend with each other lately— so when were you going to make up for said lost time?

Simple, you’d use the time you had.

Hand-in-hand, you walked off the site together and neither of you could hide the smiles on your faces.

“Soushirou, when’s the last time we held hands?” you asked, and your question made you let out an appalled chuckle.

“Don’t ask,” he said. “I thought of the same thing just now and a part of me died.”

You’d hear other officers gasp softly or murmur when they saw you, but you’d let them wonder. You’d let them wonder why the Hoshina Soushirou looked so bashful, hand-in-hand with you. You'd let them wonder if he always smiled so lovingly around you.

You’d let them wonder if you were his special someone.

And they’d be right. You were.

[fluffypandabun]

Braiding Giggles

AN: Ahhhh my first fic!! Ofc it had to be ROTTMNT, Ive have rottmnt brainrot for so long, especially about my boy Casey. I hope you guys enjoy!

Words:  2893

Summary:  After spending most of his life in the apocalypse with little access to baths, Casey's hair needs a lot of work. Luckily the hamato clan is more than eager to help their newest addition, along the way they discover something new about the future teen.

Casey let out a pained noise as the brush caught on a tangle in his hair, followed by a few more as he struggled to yank the brush out none to gently from his long tangled locks of jet black hair. 

Growing up in the apocalypse did not leave a lot of room for things such proper hair care, or even really bathing in general. And the last few days he had spent in his own timeline had been some of the most hectic days of his life, not to mention that he was tasked with saving this timeline's world as soon as he had arrived smack dab in the middle of it. So showering hasn't really been something that had crossed his mind at the time. 

But after the dust had settled, and the hamato clan had been given time to rest and properly treat their wounds, physically and maybe just a little emotionally, April had taken one good look at his greasy slicked back hair and had demanded he’d shower. 

And who was he to deny Commander O'neil when she gave him a direct order.

So now he found himself standing in front of a slightly cracked mirror, wearing a shirt and shorts that were both way too big on his skinny, and probably malnourished body. His hair, that he was used to being slicked back with either grease, sweat or sometimes blood, was now poofed out and looking soft and fluffy, falling just above his shoulders in wavy layers. 

And there was also now a hairbrush stuck in it. 

He let out a groan from the back of his throat, giving the brush one last good tug, which had him wincing and feeling sympathy for his already sore scalp, he let his arms drop to his side in defeat. 

He turned, leaving the lairs' makeshift washroom to return to the living room where the turtles and April sat, Splinter off somewhere in his room,napping. He stood in the doorway, not quite sure how to let himself be known when Raph suddenly turned to face his direction. 

He smiled and started to say something when he suddenly noticed the brush firmly tangled in the boys locks and he stopped, his expression shifted from confused, to amused, before stopping on fond. 

“Aw buddy.” He chuckled, “Having trouble with your hair?” 

His acknowledgement of the teen gained the attention of everyone, save for maybe Donnie who was hunched over his phone doing who knows what, he received the same fondly amused looks from April and Mikey, though Leo let out a loud snort, causing April to elbow him in the side and send him a glare. 

Casey felt his cheeks tint slightly pink and he shuffled on his feet, rubbing his hand up and down his arm. “I uh….” he stuttered, before clearing his throat. 

“I…can one of you maybe…help me with my hair…please..?” 

Raph smiled. “Of course we can buddy.” He said, at the same time Leo's face lit up and he immediately began to make grabby hands towards the human. 

“Oh oh!! Let me do your hair!” The mutant said excitedly, eyes alight in a way they hadn't been in awhile since the attack on new york.  

Casey blinked a few times in surprise. “I….” 

Ralph Rolled his eyes. “Ignore him Cass, Leos always had this weird obsession with hair.” 

“Yeah probably because he's bald.” Mikey added on giggling, which earned him a playful push from said turtle. 

“Excuse you, it's not an obsession it's an appreciation, plus April never lets me mess with her hair so i neeever get to show off my amazing hair skills!” The red eared slider huffed, crossing his arms across his chest as if this was the biggest offense he’d ever experienced in his life. But quickly his expression morphed back into a bright eyed grin as he reached out towards case again. 

“Come onnnn Cass my man, i’ll fix your hair up real nice, trust me!”

“Trusting you sounds like a horrible idea, Nardo.” Donnie said, finally choosing to join in on the conversation. Leo sent his twin a glare. 

“Don't listen to him Casey, I'm like, one of the most trustworthy people ever.” 

“I won't even waste my breath on giving all the reasons on why you are wrong on that one.”

Casey stood there in the doorway, watching the two turtles bicker back and forth, lips twitching. Growing up back….in his own timeline, he had the distant memory of his Sensei running his fingers through his hair, twisting it into little braids, or helping Casey pull it back into a ponytail to keep it out of his face during training. 

Master Leonardo had always enjoyed doing Casey's hair, so he guessed it shouldnt surprised him that this Leo would want to do it as well. 

Thinking about his sensei made his eyes burn, so he was quick to blink the wetness out of them. Clearing his throat as he spoke up. 

“Um…” He muttered, stopping the two turtles bickering. “I wouldn't mind if you did my hair.”

Leo turned to him and blinked, before he did his signature grin. “Awesome!” 

The turtle teen plopped himself down crossed legged on the couch, patting the spot in front of him eagerly. Casey smiled as he made his way over, sitting down in front of the turtle, albeit a bit awkwardly. He allowed himself to press his back against the couch and he only jumped a little when two three fingered hands came into his vision.  

“Alright.” Leo said, cracking his knuckles.” First we need to deal with this rat's nest and then we can really doll you up huh?” 

Casey gave a slight nod, tensing up when he felt Leo grab onto the brush still firmly stuck in his hair. 

“Be gentle Leo.” Came Raphs warning tone from Casey's right where he couldn't see him from his position on the floor. From above him Leo scoffed. 

“Relax big brother.” He hummed, though his tone had taken a more gentle tone. “I'll be careful.” 

And to his credit he was, or as gentle as he could be when brushing hair that was as tangled as Caseys. After a lot of yanking, cursing, and threats to simply cut it out, the brush had finally been removed from Casey's hair. Leo brandished it like it was a powerful weapon as he attacked Casey's raven locks. It still hurt, but it went a lot better then it would have if Casey had done it alone. 

Everytime the teen hissed in pain or let out a flinch, Leo would pause and apologize, before continuing even more carefully then before. After a bit his hair started to untangle, becoming softer and more fluffy the more Leo brushed. Pretty soon Casey was sure there weren't any tangles left in his hair, and that Leo was brushing it just for the sake of brushing it. 

Not that Casey was complaining, it felt….nice….really nice. And after going so long without any sort of close physical touch like this, no offense to his family from his  timeline, they did their best while raising him in the apocalypse, it's safe to say he pretty much melted. 

He barely registered the others talking above him, or the sound of a movie being put on. He simply allowed himself to tilt his head back and relax, at some point he was pretty sure that Leo had switched out the hairbrush for the sake of running his own fingers through the boy's locks.

He could feel himself almost falling asleep when suddenly one of Leo's fingers brushed gently against the shell of his ear. The sudden tingle of electricity was so unsuspected and unfamiliar that Casey found himself jumping and flinching forward away from whatever had caused that feeling. Looking back he found all the turtles and april, even Donnie, looking at him in bemused concern. 

Especially Leo, who had frozen with his hands mid air. 

Raph spoke up first. “Casey? You alright?”

“I didn't hurt you did I?” Leo asked, and though his voice was calm there was a hint of anxiousness behind it. Quickly Casey shook his head. 

“No! No no your fine, I'm fine, I just…” He bit his lip, hoping the others didn't notice the pink begging to form on his cheeks.

“It was….one of those like, feeling like your falling things, you know, like when you're about to fall asleep. Yeah..” 

Everyone seemed to relax a little bit, Mikey adding in a “I hate those” as they all turned back to watch the movie still playing on screen, Leo gave him a look. 

“Are you sure…?” 

Casey gave him a smile. “Yeah Leo its all good.” He turned back around and pressed his head into the turtle's hands. “You…you can keep going.”

The teen looked at him and then smirked, though there was a fondness to it, he said nothing as he continued with his mission of giving Casey head scratches. 

After a moment Casey found himself relaxing again, his eyes starting to droop as he felt himself begin to drift off….

Leo's fingers brushed against  both of his ears this time. 

This time, Casey let out a very loud and more importantly, very embarrassing squeak. Once again silence filled the room and all eyes were on him. 

“Okay.” April spoke up after a moment of silence. “Something is going on, what is up with you future boy?” 

“N-Nothing!” Casey spluttered, holding up his hands. “It's nothing really I promise-”

“Casey.” 

He froze, feeling a chill up his spine, because he did not like the sound of Leo's  voice. Carefully he turned around and oh he did not like the look of Leo's face either. 

The shit eating grin on the turtle's face said it all, that and the mischievous glint in his eyes. 

Casey swallowed, already able to feel his face getting warm “W..What..?”

The slider's grin grew even wider. “Caseyyyyyy!” 

“Whahat?” Casey grinned nervously, already frantically looking around for an exit of some sort. 

Confused, Raph glanced between the two of them. “I'm sorry, but am I missing something?” 

“Yeah.” Mikey spoke up, now fully facing him. “Why is Leo giving you the look?” 

Casey swallowed, showing off the gap in his teeth as he grinned nervously. “The uh..the look?”

Mikey nodded. “Yeah the look he gives someone usually before he…” the younger turtle trailed off as a look of realization passed over his face, immediately following it was an almost equally mischievous look making its way on the turtle's freckled face. 

“Ohhhh I see.” He giggled, making Casey flush even more.

Even more confused Raph groaned. “Okay can someone please tell me what i'm missing?” 

Leo grinned at him. “How bout I just show you instead~?” 

Caseys eyes went wide. “Wait-!” he squeaked, trying to scramble forward and out of the turtle's reach. But the ninja was too fast for him, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him back against the couch. Whatever protests or pleas he might have had died on his lips and were instantly replaced by a stream of squeaky giggles as Leo gently hooked his fingers under the teens chin keeping him in place as he traces the outer shell of his ear. 

“Casey here's just ticklish, see?” Leo hummed, speaking over the humans giggling. He seemed to have no problem keeping him in place even as he kicked and squirmed frantically trying to grasp at the turtle's wrist. 

Raph blinked a few times before it clicked. “Ohhhhhh.” he grinned. 

“Yeah that makes sense.” 

Somewhere to his far right April cooed softly. “Awwww look at the future boy all giggly, he's so sweet.” 

“Humans can have ticklish ears!?” Mikey gasped, eyes alight, he quickly made to reach for April. “Are yours ticklish too April?” 

The human was quick to gently smack his hand away. “Nuh-uh, not happening.” 

Sitting on the ground Casey was in stitches, frantically jerking his body back as forth to try and dislodge Leos fingers, seeing as that wasn't working in the slightest he settled on scrunching up his shoulders to his ears in a desperate attempt to shield himself from leos attack. 

“Awww Cass look what you did, Now my fingers are stuck.” The turtle shrugged, a grin still plastered on his face. “Guess ill just have to keep tickling you here.” 

Casey, much to his horror, squealed, which earned him fond looks from both Raph and April, even Donnie sent him a look that could be called fond, at least by his standards. 

Mikey giggled alongside him. “Awww Cass! You're so giggly!”

Leo chuckled. “Yeah, how come you aren't like this all the time? Instead of being all sullen and sad lookin, you're worse than Donnie.”

“I'm choosing to ignore that comment.” 

Casey squeezed his eyes shut and frantically shook his head, laughing harder when Leo moved to gently tracing along his jawline. Tracing a small scar that seemed to be a lot more sensitive than the rest of the surrounding area.  

It had been….a very long time since Casey had laughed like this, since Casey had..felt like this. Felt safe enough to let himself go and relax, to show such vulnerability to a group of people. The last people he’d let see him like this….

Casey chose to pretend the tears welling up in his eyes were just from how hard he was laughing. He simply tilted his head back and grasped onto Leo's wrists, body shaking with laughter as he cracked an eye open to look up at Leo. 

The slider was looking down at him with such fondness it nearly took Casey's breath away, he looked at him the same way he looked at Mikey whenever the younger turtle would manage to draw a straight line without his damaged hands shaking and messing him up. 

Casey felt his already pink cheeks turning an even darker shade as red as he was quick to look away from the turtle's gaze, ignoring the own warmth he felt in his chest. 

Raph, his savior, finally spoke up. Sounding just as fond as Leo had looked.

“Arlight Leo, don't overwhelm him, you know he probably isn't used to this sort of thing.”

Leo scoffed. “Overwhelm him? Pshh the kid loves it, don't you?” The turtle dug his fingers gently into the underside of Casey's chin causing him to snort. 

“Leo.” Raph said, using his ‘big brother voice’, Leo sighed.dramtically. 

“Alright alright, fine I’ll give the kid a break.” Finally, after a few more pokes, the turtle's fingers slowed to a stop as he released his hold on the teen. Though he kept both his hands resting gently on the boy's shoulder. 

Casey gasped softly for air, leaning his head back against Leo's legs as he hiccuped. Rubbing his face with his hands, he groaned. 

Amused, Mikey patted him on the head, “Aww, don't be embarrassed Cass, everyones a little ticklish. Plus you have a really cute laugh!”

Casey let out another much more exaggerated groan, Raph chuckled. 

“I don't think you're helping him much here Mikey.” The larger turtle said, patting the box turtle on the head, before he turned to look at Casey. 

“He's right though, no need to be embarrassed.” 

“Yeah.” April snorted. “You might as well get used to it, especially now that you're a part of this family.” 

“Unfortunately..” Donnie deadpanned under his breath, earning him a playful prod in the side from April. 

“Awww come on D, you know you love it. “

“A hisssss!!” 

Casey allowed himself to peek out from his fingers, face still pink, he allowed a slight smile to make its way onto his face. 

“I suppose so…” He muttered, Leo sent him a grin, clasping his hands together. 

“Right! So that adorable discovery aside-”

“Its not adorable-”

“Hush. Anyways, Now we can work on actually styling your hair for real, all that squirming you did messed up all my work, but since I'm so kind and caring I'm willing to start back from scratch. “ 

Casey saw the turtle reach from him out of the corner of the eye and he gave a little flinch, Leo froze for a second before he grinned. 

“Don't worry Cass, I promise I won't tickle you again….for now..” 

Casey narrowed his eyes at the slider, especially for that last part, before he sighed. He let himself relax, leaning against Leo's legs once again. 

True to his word, Leo stuck to his promise. He ran his fingers through the teens fluffy hair and began the process of separating it to turn it into a braid. The motions brought a sort of bittersweet nostalgia to Casey's mind as he smiled softly, once again relaxing into the gentle touch. 

He listened, half asleep, as the others spoke above him. Leo and Donnie bickering while Mikey hushed them because he was trying to watch the movie, with April threatening to put them all in the get along shirt, whatever that was. 

Casey felt himself begin to slip off to sleep for real this time, a small smile on his lips. April's earlier words echoing in his head as he finally drifted off. 

“Now that you're a part of this family.” 

Yeah, he could get used to this.

[snowangeldotmp3]

don't touch that dial!

or, the wandavision steddie au

(based on this post by @babyboymunson go check it out if you haven't!)

“Steve, don’t bullshit me. What’s going on? Why can’t I remember my life before this?” Eddie pleads, his voice breaking, fighting the tears threatening to spill over.

This is not how this is supposed to go, he isn’t supposed to do that. He isn’t supposed to break like that. They’re supposed to be happy. Steve’s keeping this whole thing together to keep everyone happy. Everyone is happy.

Except for Eddie, it seems.

Eddie pleads again, “Steve, please. Who were those people on the radio? What do they want from you? What did Buckley mean earlier when she said she saw—“

And it’s all so much and he can’t take all the questions Eddie’s throwing at him right now and this isn’t how this was supposed to go but he can’t make it stop and, and—

Everything stops.

Rewinds.

Then starts again.

He doesn’t even realize what’s happened until he can hear Eddie’s voice again, clear and strong, with no indication that he’d just been crying and pleading with Steve. Dustin comes back from the kitchen, unfazed, like nothing had even happened.

Perhaps it hadn’t.

“Sorry, what was that?” Eddie asks, previous argument forgotten. Completely wiped from existence.

Steve smiles, waving him off. “Oh, nothing.”

Somewhere, faintly, he hears the familiar, tinny sound of the laugh track playing, and he knows that, at least for now, everything will be okay. They can continue to be happy.

[generalized-incompetence]

“Hey, Dirk,” says Tina, sniggering, “you ever heard of this movie Goncharov?”

Dirk drops a stack of five plates.

“Oh, no,” he says.

(Read on AO3 here)

Tina runs for the nearest broom as Dirk runs for the nearest computer. By the time the plate shards are swept up, Dirk has opened about sixty tabs. “This can’t be happening,” he says, clicking on five more links. “It’s not possible.”

“Mm,” says Tina, “seems around you, just about anything’s possible.”

“But Goncharov,” says Dirk, desperately. “It doesn’t exist.”

“Well, duh,” Tina shrugs. “It’s an internet joke. Crowdsourcing a made-up movie. There’s a pret-ty hot love triangle, too - wanna see?”

“No!” says Dirk, flinging up his hands. “It does exist, it just - it shouldn’t. It can’t, not anymore. I already solved that one.”

Tina stops looking for fanart. “Wait,” she says, “Goncharov is a case?”

—

“The mind wipe,” Dirk announces, half an hour later, “has failed.”

Tina, Farah, and Todd blink at him. “What mind wipe?” says Todd finally.

“The Goncharov mind wipe,” says Dirk. “It’s wearing off. Oh, I told Thor it wouldn’t last!”

“Thor?” says Farah.

“Wearing off?” says Todd.

“Wait, so there’s real footage of the hot love triangle?” says Tina.

“Focus!” says Dirk. “This is important! Clearly, the repressed memories are already bleeding through - if this spreads, who knows what will happen!”

“Not us,” says Todd, “since you haven’t told us anything about it.”

Dirk glares at him. “It’s very simple,” he says. “Loki, god of mischief, weaseled his way into a theatrical re-release of Martin Scorsese’s most famous mafia movie, in an attempt to spread his mind-controlling message to a wider audience - and also possibly for a chance to star alongside famed actor Robert DeNiro, though I have to say, Loki’s acting chops were nowhere near as professional –”

“Loki is in Goncharov?” says Tina, bouncing up and down. “Who is he? Not Andrey? Oh - Katya?”

“Er,” says Dirk, “frozen… Steve?”

“Ice pick Joe?!” says Tina.

“Wait - back up,” says Farah, getting off the couch and heading for one of the six whiteboards scattered around the agency (Dirk refuses to erase any “essential records,” which includes Mona’s doodles, Farah’s grocery lists, Todd’s drunk-after-midnight song lyrics, and Dirk’s confusing string walls, so in lieu of reuse, they just keep buying more). “Mind-controlling message? About - what, exactly?”

“World domination,” says Dirk. “What else?”

“What, like, make way for our mythological Norse overlords?” says Todd.

“Todd,” says Dirk, “the art of mind control is that of subtle insinuation. The smallest nudge to a person’s most seemingly innocuous impulse might one day bring about Ragnarok itself. The pathways of the human brain are far beyond any of us to begin to fathom.”

Todd exchanges glances with Tina. “So…” he says.

“So “Make way for our mythological Norse overlords” was embedded in the credits, yes,” says Dirk.

Farah pauses halfway through busily scribbling a semi-coherent list of Dirk’s far-from-coherent retelling. “If it’s just the credits,” she says, “couldn’t you replace that segment? Instead of mind-wiping the entire human race?”

“Yeah, who watches the credits, anyway?” says Tina. “Farah, you don’t count, no one else cares about the back-up apprentice costume designer.”

“Yes, that was my suggestion,” says Dirk, “but I was, er, overruled. Thor doesn’t generally go in for half-measures, in my experience.”

“And how extensive is that experience?” says Tina.

“We’re getting off-track,” says Dirk quickly. “The important thing is, the mind-wipe wore off. And if everyone suddenly remembers Goncharov, they’ll also remember the credits. And if they remember the credits…”

“Make way for Loki,” says Todd gloomily.

Everyone stares at the whiteboard.

“Okay,” says Farah, clapping her hands together, “so all we have to do is find Thor, find the mind-wipe technology, debug the mind-wipe technology so it works this time, figure out how to deploy it correctly, and get Thor to mind-wipe the entire human race a second time, before everyone remembers Goncharov and Loki comes back. If he’s not back already.”

Everyone stares at Farah.

The doorbell rings, and then the door bursts open. “DIRK GENTLY!” roars a voice. “Hail and well met!”

—

“You broke the mind wipe box?” says Dirk, aghast.

Thor squirms on the couch. Thor is the only one on the couch, because he takes up most of the couch. Farah is still by the whiteboard, and Todd and Tina are standing by Dirk, completely failing not to stare.

“I didn’t break it!” Thor protests. “I simply - misplaced it. Onto a chair. Which I then sat on. Which was, honestly, far worse for me than for that box, given all the unpleasantly sharp components.”

Todd shakes his head and wishes Thor didn’t sound so much like Dirk, with a deeper voice and a slightly different accent. It’s hurting his brain. He tries and fails to stop looking at Thor’s bare arms. They take up an unfair amount of his field of view.

“Thor,” says Dirk, putting his hands on his hips, “we’ve talked about this. You must be more careful where you sit.”

“Again,” says Thor, “I did not know that hat was valuable.”

“It was cursed!” Dirk squawks.

“Can everyone focus!” says Farah. “Thor, do you have the box with you?”

Thor shifts slightly and pulls out a mangled cube. It looks like a movie prop that, well, someone has sat on. The translucent blue sides are faded and dusty, and wires are poking out of the middle.

“...Sorry,” says Thor.

Tina squints at the box. “You’re tellin’ me this thing is why I forgot the boat scene?” she says. “I dressed up as the boat scene for Halloween!”

“...You were a boat?” says Todd.

“I was six,” says Tina, “and in retrospect, the homoerotic overtones went way over my head. Cool costume, though.”

Farah, meanwhile, examines the box. “This isn’t too bad,” she says. “It should definitely be fixable. Probably. Almost certainly.”

“If only we still had Patrick’s lab,” Dirk sighs.

Farah’s eyes twitch sideways. “Well…” she says.

The door opens again. “Farah!” yells Lydia. “Have you heard of this movie Goncharov?”

—

“Of course I can fix it,” says Lydia.

Everyone sits forward on their respective couch, couch armrests, chairs, or, in Dirk’s case, table. “You can?” says Thor.

“Yeah,” Lydia shrugs. “This is all 80s tech - it’s built to last. These transistors are comically huge. If you want, I can swap it out for new stuff - might take a little longer, but it’d be, like, credit card sized.”

“Could you really?” says Dirk. “Is this one of those Boring Law things?”

“Whatever’s fastest,” says Farah, before Dirk can fall down another endless hole of knowledge he’ll forget till his next case. “Lydia, do you have everything you need here?”

“Yeah, it’s all at my bench. Give me a sec.”

Lydia takes off towards the workbench Farah set up two months into Lydia’s Belize stay, and the rest of them sit back to wait. Dirk hums something under his breath. Farah goes back to writing on the whiteboard.

“So,” says Tina to Thor, after a moment of silence, “did you two ever…”

“I’ll order a pizza,” says Todd, shooting up.

—

Todd barely gets back off the phone before Lydia returns with the repaired device.

“That’s it?” says Tina, frowning at the cube.

“It’s an ancient artifact of my people,” says Thor.

“Which you sat on,” says Dirk.

“Something I learned from my dad,” says Lydia, “is that sometimes the smallest things cause the most problems. Even when the tech is ancient. Maybe especially then.”

She sets the cube on the table and taps something on the side. A blue glow creeps up the sides. The cube begins to pulse faintly, seeming to draw space in around it. It’s mesmerizing, in an unsettling sort of way.

“...Yeah, I hate that,” says Tina.

Dirk shudders. “Thor, can you…” he says.

Thor places one large hand over the cube, cutting off the hypnotic light. “I shall need a higher vantage point,” he says. “Wait for my signal.” He’s out the door before anyone can say anything else, to possibly everyone’s relief. A second later, there’s a flash of lightning, and a resounding boom of thunder, and everyone jumps as though they’ve been shocked.

“Well!” says Dirk, shaking himself and standing up. “That was… a thing.”

“Wait - that’s it?” says Todd. “We met Thor, and now he’s just… gone?”

“Yes, that’s how he generally operates,” says Dirk over his shoulder. “It’s part of the reason we… well.”

“Part of the reason you what?” says Tina.

“Popcorn, anyone?” says Dirk.

“Popcorn?” says Farah. “Why?”

“Why, for the movie, of course,” says Dirk, then pauses. “Er. I think.”

“No, there was a movie,” says Todd. “Wasn’t there? Something about - um - shit.”

Tina props her legs up on the table. “Hey, Far,” she says, “what’s up with your handwriting today? That whiteboard’s a mess.”

Farah looks at the whiteboard, where a whole square of notes has gotten completely smudged. “...Huh,” she says. “Must’ve slipped.”

“Pizza’s here,” says Lydia from the doorway, where none of them heard a knock.

“Pizza!” exclaims Dirk, and everyone entirely forgets what they were ever worried about.

(And somewhere, deep underground, Loki sighs and logs offline, thwarted again from his latest and nearly successful plan to escape at last.)

[helianskies]

It took a little while to sort out papers, but eventually, Mr Mateo Romero Vázquez, a man from some inconsequential town out in Castilla-La Mancha, was driving his little grey car out of the airport carpark and in the direction of the EO16.

His destination was Sarti, a coastal town with beautiful views out across the Aegean sea. A vast blue horizon. A chance to forget.

[ read the full fic on ao3! ]

[virgo-dream]

tonight's Hob headcanon: he has a truly atrocious singing voice. unfortunately for everyone around him, he also loves to sing. there's a biweekly karaoke night at the New Inn (the staff talked him down from a weekly event for the sake of their eardrums) and people in the know attend solely to listen to Hob sing Queen's "Don't Stop Me Now" SO badly that it should, frankly, be against the law.

the exception to this is in the Dreaming, where Hob's singing voice matches what he hears in his head, where the passion and the feeling that he puts into it are discernible by others and not just himself.

the result of this mismatch is that Dream has no idea what Hob's singing sounds like in the waking world until he happens to drop by the New Inn on karaoke night and he and Matthew both get their faces absolutely blown off by Hob's godawful take on "You've Got A Friend In Me."

xo @hardly-an-escape

@hardly-an-escape oooo thank you for this!!! as a singer myself, this is my biggest nightmare lol but knowing Hob, I think he probably doesn't care what others think! he'll sing his big heart out and whoever doesn't wanna listen can plug their sour ears lol but also....... you know how every thought can be made into a sad hurt/comfort fluff thought? well..........

Dream had avoided music for as long as he could remember. It is hard to escape something that is so present in the mind of dreamers, that plays in the imaginary background of every argument, every victory, every kiss and every loss. Still, he avoided music, because no voice could ever sound as sweet as the one he'd lost far too soon, the only one he wished he could hear sing again.

Still, it didn't mean he could ban people from dreaming of music, because it would be largely unethical of him, and if Dream took one thing seriously (not to say he didn't take all things seriously, but one clearly above all) it was his work. He would not keep dreamers from creating music in their slumber, but he would also not engage with those minds. They were loud enough on their own, and if he had to bring himself any closer to them than he was strictly required to... well, that would certainly overwhelm him to the point of making the entire Dreaming completely devoid of sound for a while.

There was one mind that he'd never refuse a visit to, and that was Hob Gadling's very loud, very musical sleeping brain.

The first time Dream heard Hob sing, it made him cry on the spot.

Tears just rolled down his pale cheeks, and he felt so vulnerable that when Hob noticed his presence, all Dream could do was say "this dream is over" and disappear from the Waking for a week. When they did meet again, Hob apologised profusely for upsetting him, even though he didn't know what had caused Dream so much distress, and only then did he notice that it wasn't Hob's fault, how could it be?

They sat together in silence in Hob's living room after Dream told him of Orpheus' divine talents, of his beauty and his music, of the tragedy of his death and the cowardice of his father, if Dream could even call himself Orpheus' father, and not his biggest detractor, a traitor in the face of love that now he knew he'd do the same to recover.

Hob kissed the tears away from Dream's cheeks, and promised to not sing again. Dream just shook his head, and said "Do not deny yourself the joy of music, for I once too knew it and reveled in it."

As their relationship progressed, Dream allowed Hob more agency in the Dreaming. They'd meet every night, sit together in the library, watch the magical sunsets of the Realm of Dreams and Nightmares, and Hob would sing him lullabies and love songs, kiss the tears away from Dream's cheeks much like he'd done that first time, and let the salty taste of them accompany his lips down to Dream's own.

Dream loved to hear Hob sing. He was talented beyond belief, and it felt like a curse lifted, a gift from the Creator themselves bestowed upon a very undeserving Dream of The Endless, to love one who sang as sweetly as a songbird. Dream began to enjoy music again, to actively seek it out. He'd buy Hob records in the Waking, or pluck brand new compositions from Hob's favourite (living) musicians to gift Hob in the Dreaming, only to hear Hob's rendition of his own favourite tunes. Anything could sound good in that voice. It was the voice that made the music bearable.

That was, until one Christmas party at the New Inn.

Hob (and everyone else, really) had already downed quite a few drinks. Dream was a little tipsy himself, which wasn't entirely uncommon, but was very confused by Hob's hesitance to join his friends, who were all belting out to, with questionable skill, even more questionable music. "I can sing to you later, duck." "I really shouldn't." "no one likes actual singers doing karaoke". Dream was not convinced. In fact, he had the feeling Hob was lying to him.

"do not deny yourself the joy of music, for I have now found it again through you, and do not wish to lose it again."

And so, Hob had no choice but to sing.

He walked up to the little makeshift stage they had crafted specially for the Chirstmas get together, grabbing the microphone like he was on his way to being hanged for shagging the prince of England. He found a song that he was sure he wouldn't completely butcher, and as all of his friends cheered him on, and Dream smiled one of his rare smiles saved only for Hob's eyes, he let out a sigh.

"...y..YooUuu'vE GooT A FrrieeenD IN Meee."

Dream.

"...yOU'Ve got a... f..frIEND In mEEeee..."

Dream wasn't sure what exactly he was feeling.

He only then understood Hob's hesitance, the way his face seemed to scrunch up in painful agony as he belted out the notes, afraid of disappointing Dream. Matthew was perched on his shoulder, trying his best not to let out a very human laugh out, hiding his beak against the lapel of Dream's trenchcoat. He almost wanted to laugh, but not at Hob, never at him. At the situation. At the voice Hob's brain had crafted only for Dream's ears. At how now, because of Dream, Hob felt uncomfortable with his own skills.

"t..thERE Isn'T A-AnytHINg I WOuldn't dOOoo f-fOR YooU.."

So Dream stood from his seat, to the surprise of Matthew and of all others in attendance, and joined Hob on stage. He grabbed the other microphone, showing Hob a gentle smile, before pressing a soft kiss to his lips. And so, his voice soared out of the speakers, a full, near baritone croon, but Hob knew it was meant only for him.

"Some other folks might be A little bit smarter than I am Bigger and stronger too Maybe But none of them will ever love you The way I do It's me and you, boy."

Dream kissed Hob again, to the sound of aaaws and cheering and clapping. "I'll love to hear you sing later when we're in bed." He whispered into Hob's ear, but perhaps a little too close to the microphone. Perhaps, he'd done it on purpose.

And that's the story of how Dream of The Endless got his singing voice back. A true Christmas Miracle, if you ask Hob.