#yep they've nailed it alright

[lesbianphan]

Dan: local man who clearly loves his partner claims love isn't real Phil: local man pretends he didn't just imply he loves his partner by including his friends awkwardly to sound nonchalant about it, making it sound much weirder than it had to be

[itspeanutlove]

Decided to write something for my OC's from Class of Heroes haha. I havent written anything in a while so here it is!

—————

"Nail Polish"

"... I see... so you use this special paint for coloring nails," Kirin lifted the container of bright green nail polish, "And you can add glitter and other such materials for more effects."

Helen nodded, smiling. "Yep! Papa just sent over my old set, so I thought I'd invite everyone over for a sleepover and paint each other's nails."

The entire group had been packed into their room, sitting on the floor with different containers of nail polish scattered about. Beside Helen was Marian, who was rummaging through the bag that the polish came in.

Caesar sat on the edge of the bed, arms crossed as he looked down at his party members with an unreadable expression. Faust sat stiffly beside Kirin, who was showing him various brightly colored containers. Mante was sitting on the rug beside Marian, sniffing at a bottle.

"So," Helen clapped her hands together, looking over everyone. "Mari and I have already painted our nails a lot before, but has anyone else here done it too?"

"My sister actually likes painting her claws too," Mante smiled as he leaned back a bit, setting down a bottle. "So she's painted mine before. Not that they've lasted long with all the work we do on the farm."

That made Helen frown a bit, "Hm.... that's a good point actually, I'm not sure how long these ones are going to last since we go out into the paths often..." She paused for a moment before brightening back up. "Well, at least we can look a little bit nicer for a short while. Anyone else?"

Faust quickly whispered something into Kirin's ear, to which she nodded. She turned to Helen, "We haven't done it before. Nobody in our town sells these products and Faust's grandmother never let him either."

She turned to Caesar, with Helen following her gaze. Caesar stared back blankly.

"... What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Well, um, aren't you going to... say something?" Helen smiled awkwardly. Caesar just blinked back at her.

"... Alright, I guess," he shrugged. "I've never been allowed. Stuff like that just isn't a thing back in my house."

Marian snorted, pausing her search "Strict rich folk traditions, I bet,"

Caesar huffed. "Rich folk traditions? It's usually rich folk buying these things in the first place. My family just doesn't see how nail color would be useful, so we don't bother with it."

"Yeah, yeah," Marian said dismissively, already bored with the conversation. "Hey, Hels, where's purple? I can't find it."

The Celestian leaned over, "Oh, uh... which shade? You have two favourite purples."

"The dark one!"

"Not the sparkly one?"

"Pfft, no," Marian fluorished her hand, "I'm way over that one."

"Uh-huh," Helen smiled as if she were just going along with it, leaning closer to take the bag from Marian and gently spilling the contents onto the rug. "Let's see... raspberry red... terra jelly yellow... uh..."

She couldn't find it. Mante leaned forward a bit to help them look. "Dark purple, right?"

"It's over there," Caesar pointed under Mante's leg, "You were sitting on it."

"Eh!?" Mante looked down, seeing the container. "Oh, you're right — here you go, Marian."

The Felpier triumphantly grabbed it, bringing it up against the light before smirking. "Alright, let's get started, eh?"

Helen nodded. "Yep! Let's go... hm, what colors should I choose this time... oh, right."

She turned to Kirin, Faust, and Caesar. "Since it's your first time, want me to paint your nails for you? I promise I'm good at it!"

"Yeah, I can vouch for her quality," Marian snickered. Helen flushed a bit, her wings flicking.

"You're being too nice..."

"I'd say I'm being honest," Marian smirked, gently nudging her with her elbow.

"Okay, you can paint our nails," Kirin agreed (not really wanting to see them go back and forth with this), with Faust nodding beside her. "Do we pick the colors we want?"

"Huh? Oh yeah, just pick and I'll do the painting," Helen looked to Caesar. "What about you, Caesar?"

Caesar shook his head. "I won't be doing... this. I'm just here to hang out with you guys. I'll just watch."

"C'mooon, join us," Mante waved him down, waving a random container at him like how one would shake a cat toy. "Just this once! You never know, it might be fun."

"Nah."

Mante pouted, slouching "Fine."

"You folded quick," Marian noted with amusement, opening her nail polish.

"If he doesn't want to, then he doesn't want to."

Meanwhile, Helen beckoned Kirin and Faust closer, patting the area beside her.

"Have you two chosen the colors you wanted yet?" She asked, setting down some nail polish remover and cotton balls beside her.

Kirin glanced at Faust, who was holding up three bottles with a skeptical expression. One dark, crimson red, one black, and one that was a dull maroon. "Faust, you don't need to pick one that matches your clothes."

The Diablos tilted his head at her before catching a glimpse of the ten bottles she was holding. His eyes widened a fraction. Helen grinned when she saw the bottles. "Ooh! Rainbow nails?"

The blue haired girl nodded, though her face didn't shift, there was a slight air of smugness. "I do not know what fits me the most, so I'll try all of them."

"I see, I see," Helen hummed as he set it down, "Then I'll do yours first so Faust can have more time to decide."

As she began to work, Marian leaned back against the bed to admire her own work. She was quick, having already finished her non-dominant hand's polish. "It turned out good," she hummed. "Oi, Mante, you gunna do yours or nah?"

Mante was looking between orange and yellow. "... I was going to but now I don't know. Hm... Eh, y'know what? I'll give it a try."

Marian smirked. "That's the spirit!"

"It's not going to look good at all!" The dwarf cheered.

"Who cares!" The felpier cheered louder.

The two laughed. Caesar watched from the bed, tail twitching slightly. They seemed like they were having fun, but... he grit his teeth, trying to focus back on the book and snacks he'd brought.

"Oh, by the way," Helen said as she finished with the red color for Kirin, "Remember earlier back in Fighting Arts class when Roseta almost got stabbed by... what's his name again?"

"The annoying one with the bandana?" Marian asked, sticking her tongue out a bit as she tried to focus on her nails. It was harder to paint using her right hand...

"Yes, him," Helen uncapped the next color; orange. "I don't know his name —"

Faust whispered something to Kirin as he set down his bottles. Kirin nodded, "Faust says his name is Jack. Also, he decided on this one." She held up a bright red and glittery nail polish bottle.

"Ooh, pretty," Helen gave him a thumbs up. "I'll get to you as soon as I finish with Kirin."

"Who's going to do yours then?" Mante asked, not looking up from his hand. He was trying to do some nail art, giving his nails a plaid pattern, but was very clearly failing.

"I can do mine after," Helen dismissively waved her hand, "Anyway, before you guys got here I was outside and I passed by Taro and Jack, the two didn't seem too happy with each other. I think Taro's still mad about it."

"About what again?" Marian asked.

"About Jack almost stabbing Roseta, weren't you paying attention?" Caesar huffed, not even pretending to read his book.

"I was!" Marian snapped back, offended. "But it was complicated, okay?"

"What's so complicated about it? He almost stabbed her and other guy got mad."

"The way she said it, you dumb lizard!"

"Sounds like the words of someone without basic listening skills!"

As the two devolved into their usual bickering, Mante showed his claws to Helen. "Be honest, does this look okay?"

Her grimace was enough of an answer.

"What is it supposed to be?" Kirin asked, tilting her head.

"Plaid."

"Oh. Faust's horns are straighter than those lines."

Faust looked at Kirin with a face that said 'why'd you drag ME into this!?'. She looked right back at him with a face that said 'I do what I want'.

"We can fix it," Helen said as she moved on to yellow, "You can use some of the polish remover."

"I don't wanna waste it, though," Mante sighed. "Ehhh... Whatever, I'll keep it like this."

"You sure? You don't have to, I really don't mind."

"It's fiiine," Mante waved it off. He glanced back at Caesar and Marian after noticing that they'd quieted down.

Marian seemed to have finished with her finger nails already and had moved onto her toe nails. Caesar, meanwhile, was staring at them wistfully.

"You okay, C?" Mante asked, flexing his fingers.

"Huh?" Caesar blinked. "Oh. Yeah."

"... You know you can join us, right?" Mante showed him his nails. "C'mooon. Please, Caesar? Just this once?"

"..."

"Worst case scenario, you can just use the remover," Mante tried again.

"..." Caesar seemed conflicted. Mante glanced at Helen, who glanced at Kirin.

Helen cleared her throat, turning to face Caesar better and clapping her hands together in a praying gesture. "Please, Caesar? Just this once!"

Kirin reluctantly copied her — though much more carefully as her nails weren't dry yet. "Please, Caesar. Just this once."

"You could put a little more feeling into it, you know," Mante mumbled. "Also why are you two even copying me...??"

Helen giggled in response, almost messing up her next brush stroke. "No reason."

"What color are you gonna get, lizard?" Marian asked, tugging on Caesar's sleeve and trying to pull him down. Half-heartedly.

"Why are YOU assuming I said yes?" Caesar muttered, annoyed. And yet he sat down between Marian and Mante. "... moss green..."

Mante grinned, reaching out to rummage at the pile of nail polish. "Wow, you even got the color name right."

Caesar's face flushed a bit, "Just give it to me. I'll do my nails myself at least, shouldn't be too hard..."

Marian whispered something into Helen's ear that sounded suspiciously like "that's called 'hubris', right?" but Caesar decided to ignore her.

Kirin pulled her hand back after Helen finished with both of them, flexing her fingers a bit. "They're bright. Are they dry yet?"

"Uhh... the one I did first should be dry now," Helen said, glancing at Marian. "Also yes, that's what it's called."

"Someone's been reading dictionaries lately," Caesar commented dryly.

Faust meanwhile inched towards Helen, almost excited as he held the glittery red bottle. Helen smiled, "Alright! This should be a bit faster."

"Mine are dry," Mante lightly poked his claw. "Yep. Dry. You sure you don't need help, C?"

Caesar stared at Mante's nails. "After seeing how yours look, I don't think I do."

"They're not THAT bad!"

Marian snorted.

"Hey!" Mante protested. "Ugh, my dignity's really taken a beating today."

Caesar snickered, looking down at his own hand. He'd already finished one of his nails, it didn't look too bad, but it wasn't exactly great. But that was okay.

At least it was fun. (Not that he'd ever admit it, though...)

I didn't know how to end it so yeah, this is a bit abrupt. I'll see if I can draw this too haha

[kerothi]

He's pushing his luck now, he knows. But when his only real plan had been to trip over himself while telling his favorite idol that she was just that and spending the rest of his night gushing about the way she ignored him, Jean's been going purely off the positive vibes he's gotten from her since. When Aria had actually stopped to speak to him, he already thought that he's gotta be the luckiest guy in the world. He'd expected her security to suddenly manifest at any moment and body his ass to the floor. He expected a lot of things, but none of which were even remotely close to the idea that Aria would actually hold and maintain a decent conversation with him as well.

She's already saved him from a couple of tangent spirals that would've been really hard to redeem himself from were it not for her plucking something out from whatever he'd said and somehow making it work. Most girls ( the not-famous kind ) tend to take the first chance they get to walk away when his mouth fails him like that. He should be having more trouble with her, being that she is a goddamn celebrity and all, but Aria's been speaking to him like a person this whole time, not just a fan.

Maybe it's an optimistic thought ( a really optimistic thought ) but Jean likes to think he's a pretty perceptive person—he can usually read a room quite well, pick up on certain social cues, and knows when he doesn't stand a chance in hell with someone. If there wasn't just the slightest possibility in his mind that he might be in with a shot here... Well, alright, it's Aria; so he might have just had to take that gamble anyways.

Still, when she grabs for a pen and then for his wrist, Jean's breath catches quietly in his throat and he unconsciously keeps it there, frozen like any sudden movement might mess this up, focused on keeping his hand spread out and steady while she writes her digits on his palm. Holy shit. He thinks his heart's gonna burst out of his chest. Holy shit. Aria's giving him her phone number. He just hopes his palms better not to be too freakin' sweaty. Shit, what if his palms are sweaty? Oh god—

Jean takes his hand back like he isn't sure if he can when Aria's finished writing, then drops his awestruck gaze down to stare at his palm where a number has indeed been left nice, big and clear—and that's about when he remembers to breathe again. It comes out in a rush, like a laugh but as though someone has given his lungs a squeeze like a dog's old chew-toy at the same time. He sounds winded. He kind of is.

But he lifts his head again, grinning from ear-to-ear despite the heat he can feel that's spread all the way up to his ears. He doesn't care. He's on cloud fucking nine right now. Jean opens his mouth to carry on talking, to tell her he'd be sure not to lose it with a retrospectively lame wave of his hand, but the guys kick up another riot and rapid-fires another round of aggressive honking. So she's spared from his corny joke and he's saved from himself because the glares they're getting from the rest of the backstage staff are beginning to go widespread and it's making him nervous, so Jean theatrically deflates a little bit and bunches his bag up over his shoulder.

"I'll uhm... I'll text ya sometime then, yeah?" He asks, still facing Aria while he reverses his way back to the van. Still smiling like all his Christmases have come at once. Those asshole friends of his aren't gonna believe what they've just dragged him away from. "I figure that's prob'ly best, right? With you bein' so busy an' all—" He rambles, "U-Unless I should call? If you want—If ya wanted me to call, if ya prefer I'd... Yeah." Yep... Nailed it.

This Jean is so different from the one Armin is used to. The smart mouth and air of cocky confidence he knows is missing, replaced by something awkward. Charmingly awkward, if he's to be honest. Armin might even go so far as to call it sweet if he were a real girl, meeting Jean for the first time. Although, if that were the case, chances are he wouldn't have spent so much time chatting with him to begin with.

The thing about being an idol, Armin has learned, is that one can never know what to expect from their fans. While most are normal, sane individuals, there are always one or two whack jobs lurking in the crowd. Lucky for him, and unlike his bandmates, Aria— as he calls this persona of his— has only encountered such people at events where security is present. No one is ever fortunate enough to bump into her on the street, for obvious reasons. Much less backstage after a show. The others— real women, not a boy in disguise— aren't quite so lucky, and they've told him a plethora of crazy stories that prove it.

But Armin knows Jean outside of all this. Additionally, he's well aware of just how much Jean adores Aria. When he came sauntering over after the show— as nervous as that made Armin— the blond couldn't bring himself to simply wave him off and move on. Meeting Aria would absolutely be the highlight of Jean's evening, and who was Armin to take that away?

So he stuck around to chat with this different side of Jean, and since he's already familiar with him, found it all to be quite easy. When Jean tripped over his words, Armin, who knew just what to say, stepped in to help him up, and by the time Connie and the others were shouting from their van, a tiny sliver of that aforementioned confidence was starting to poke through.

On the flip side, Armin finds himself getting tripped up. Less on the rhythm of his speech and more to do with what he's actually saying. On the one hand, he shouldn't have agreed with Jean about wanting more time together, but on the other...

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't enjoying their little talk.

"Maybe we will," he replies, knowing full well that actually is the case. It just won't be much like Jean is picturing. Despite all that, Armin finds himself smiling back at him. That goofy grin of his is infectious.

He's sure that's the end of their little moment when Jean picks up his things and makes to leave, so he's caught off guard by what he says next. Jean... wants his number? No, Aria's number. Now it's Armin's turn to hesitate. That's going too far. He shouldn't. But Jean looks so happy. Happier than Armin thinks he's ever seen him. Is he really going to send the poor guy tumbling down from cloud nine right here and now? After all that?

Maybe the perfume Historia insisted on dousing him in before the show is getting to his head. Or he's been playing the part of Aria for so long that he's starting to develop some kind of split personality disorder. Or maybe he just wants to see his friend happy. Whatever the case, Armin doesn't have a solid explanation for his actions when he pulls out a black marker and takes hold of Jean's wrist, flipping it over to expose his palm. There, he neatly scrawls out the number for his burner phone. The one he uses specifically for band related things, and nothing else. Because Armin has always been abundantly cautious.

Until tonight.

[midnightsunnyday]

In which MC learns air magic

Fire magic Water Magic

Mammon: man, I hate cleaning. If only there were a more convenient and efficient way to get rid of all this filth.

*silence*

Mammon: I said IF ONLY THERE WERE A MORE CONVENIENT AND EFFICIENT WAY TO GET RID OF--

MC: --DID SOMEONE SAY AIR MAGIC?

Satan, looking up from his book: literally no one said that.

Mammon: holy shit, it's a human. But this ain't your regular kinda human. This one can use magic. What kind of magic you ask?

Satan: they already told us--

Mammon: -- MOTHERFUCKING AIR MAGIC.

Satan: *sighs*

Mammon: what's that? You want to see more?

Satan: no.

Mammon: go ahead my magically inclined friend. Show em' what you got.

*MC silently chants an incantation. The air around them swirls before a small whirlwind appears. The whirlwind sweeps through the room, collecting bits of trash and dust as it goes*

Satan: oh? That's actually very impressive, MC.

Mammon: that's my human. They've been gettin' really good at practicing their magic.

Satan: without killing you, I see.

Mammon: I know, right? But that's not even the best part. Me and MC have launched our own cleaning business. The profits are 50/20.

MC: 50/50.

Mammon: ha, oh right. Forgot about that.

MC: did you also forget the part where I kicked you in the shin?

Mammon: when did ya ever--OW. Ok, point taken.

Beelzebub, pausing in the doorway: oh no.

Mammon: sup Beel. Check out MC. They're like a portable vacuum cleaner.

Beelzebub: just keep them away from the kitchen...or else.

MC: don't worry that cute, orange head of yours, Beel. I have this entirely under control.

*5 minutes later*

Lucifer: WHY IS THERE A TORNADO INSIDE OF OUR HOUSE?

Asmodeus, holding onto a table leg: oooh, this is the perfect time to take a selfie #gonewiththewindfabulous.

Lucifer: WHICH ONE OF YOU IS RESPONSIBLE FOR—

Satan, clinging to the couch for his life: what do you mean which one of us? It's MC. It's always them.

MC, hanging from the chandelier: HEY.

Lucifer: I ask you and Mammon to clean the common room and instead you do this?

MC: the vacuum was broken.

Lucifer: SO YOU SUMMONED A TORNADO?

MC: STOP YELLING AT ME.

Lucifer: MC SO HELP ME I'LL--

*a loud, growling noise rumbles the house*

Satan: Beel...was that your stomach?

Beelzebub, nails dug into the wall: why does it always have to be my stomach? And no, it wasn't.

Asmodeus: hey guys, is it me or does that tornado look angry?

MC: oh yeah, I wouldn't threaten me if I were you. Toto doesn't like it.

Asmodeus: and Toto is?

MC: the tornado. I think it's sentient.

Lucifer: ...you summoned a sentient tornado?

MC: yep. It's kind of like a dog. Watch. Toto, spit Mammon out. He's not a toy.

*the tornado whines*

MC: Toto, be a good boy and spit Mammon out.

*Mammon launches out of the tornado, plowing through the common room wall and into the kitchen. The crashing of plates and pots can be heard*

Beelzebub: OH YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME.

Asmodeus: hey Mammon, are you dead?

Mammon: no...but it's close. 

MC: sorry, Mammon.

Mammon: it's ok... I...really need to reconsider my life choices.

Lucifer: alright, this has gone on long enough. MC, you have ten seconds to get down and away from that...thing. Ten, nine, eigh--

*the tornado blows a powerful burst of air towards Lucifer, sending him flying into the kitchen. Further crashing is heard*

Mammon: *stuck inside a cabinet* sup bro?

Lucifer: *flat on his back* shut the fuck up, Mammon.

Satan: you know what? Maybe a pet sentient tornado isn't so bad.

Asmodeus: it is...kind of cute.

Leviathan: *enters room* hey, the wi-fi cut off. Did something happen to the—NANI?

Belphegor: hey, I'm trying to sleep *blinks*oh cool, MC's destroying the house again.

MC: say hi to Belphie and Levi, Toto.

*Toto barks*

Belphegor: the heck is that?

Leviathan: cool, MC's an airbender.

Belphegor: so where's Fire Lord Lucifer?

Lucifer, stepping through the hole in the wall in full demon form: you probably shouldn't have named it, MC. Otherwise, it's going to hurt a lot more once I do this.

*Lucifer snaps his fingers. The tornado cries, swelling and shifting before exploding.  A large burst of air sweeps through the room, sending all the brothers flying except for Lucifer, who stands perfectly straight. Just before MC hits the ground, Lucifer jolts out his arm, catching them.

MC: *cries* TOTO, NO.

Satan, his head stuck inside the TV: this is why I read in my room.

Asmodeus, buried under a shelf: not the way I usually like to be blown.

Leviathan, on top of Belphegor: gross. TMI.

Belphegor: aw. I wanted to take it for a walk.

Leviathan: wouldn't it destroy the entire kingdom?

Belphegor: I fail to see your point. And get off of me, you're heavy.

Beelzebub, head struck in the wall: my food.

*Lucifer, dropping MC to the ground*

MC: ow! How could you? I thought you loved me?

Lucifer: you and I are going to have a long discussion about using these powers of yours IN THE HOUSE.

MC: But Luci--

Lucifer: --enough. The only words I should hear from your mouth are "Yes, Lucifer." Say it.

MC: Yes, Lucifer.

Lucifer: good. As for the rest of you, clean up this mess. I want this room back in perfect condition by the time I’m finished.

Leviathan: what? Why are we the ones being forced to help them clean?

Satan: yeah. If anything, Mammon should do it. This whole thing is just as much as his fault as MC.

Lucifer: do it or I’ll lock you all inside and cleanse the house myself…with fire.  

Asmodeus: no, wait! Do you have any idea what heat of that temperature will do to my hair?

Satan: he threatened to burn us alive and that's what you're stuck on?

Belphegor: Ugh. Fine! Though I'm still considering the being burned alive option...