#also i swear to god i used to have more patience for learning new hobbies wtf happened

[localplaguenurse]

I'm not immediately an expert at crochet

[agentbilliard]

saint senyoyi, better known as agent biliard has been with cerberus corp as an eo since 2023 and is LEVEL III. BEING CRUSHED BY A VENDING MACHINE has gifted them telekinesis, though PHYSICAL INFLUENCE WEAKENING WITH DISTANCE, DISTRACTIONS, AND LARGER WEIGHTS has also been noted. when they aren’t protecting the tri-state area, they are fond of playing rounds of fischer random by his lonesome and are never seen without A LEATHERBOUND JOURNAL. civilians think they are meticulous & benevolent, but some of the other agents see them as NEUROTIC & COWARDLY. cerberus corp should consider the fact that their last mission status was successful, although unsuccessfully cleaning up local garbage might have been more impressive when giving out the next one.

001.  GENERAL

name  saint senyoyi

nicknames  agent billiard, vender bender, any saint under the canonized sun courtesy of agent jester

age  thirty-four

date of birth  march 9, 1989

zodiac  answer

place of birth  harefield, hillingdon, london

current residence  brooklyn, new york city, new york

gender  cis man

pronouns  he/him

orientation  bisexual, biromantic

occupations  level iii agent at cerberus corp, mathematics teacher and head custodian at brooklyn academy of ostentatiously pubescent pricks

faceclaim  daniel kaluuya

height  5’8

tattoos  none (he does, however, have the divine patience and dearth of dignity required to doodle and calculate all over his forearms daily)

piercings  none (he does, however, have a fake nose ring from his stint in a school-sponsored production of annie wherein mr warbucks and his servants made liberal yet incorrect use of african-american vernacular english to teach middle schoolers about the cold war)

distinguishing features  there are few features of saint’s corporeal form that function as evidence of him being a good person, but at a minimum he has good grooming. his collars are pressed to perfection, his trousers are steamed to sublimity, his hair both facial and scalp-al is combed and clipped as much as possible. nonetheless, a good portion of his shirts are stained with presumably non-toxic paint or crumbs of a graphite muffin. the backs of his blazers are often adorned with sticky notes with adorable titles such as ‘YOUNGEST SENIOR CITIZEN’ and ‘NOBODY LIKES MATH’ and ‘MY FAVE FUNCTION IS =3’ from his students. what can he say? he’s sentimental to a fault. and far too broke to go to the laundromat every week.

positive traits  altruistic, diligent, humble, observant, organized, polite, pragmatic

negative traits  craven, cynical, deceitful, insecure, perfectionistic, pessimistic, unyielding

labels / tropes  absent-minded professor, bad liar, beware the quiet ones, stern teacher, the fettered

likes  alphabetical lists, dish washing, libraries, origami (he cannot do it whatsoever), pranks (if they’re done right), summer, students at brooklyn academy of ostentatiously pubescent pricks (at least they’re funny pricks)

dislikes  art museums, astronomy girlies (if he learns that he has pisces energy one more time he will lose it), drinking (hypocritical), level iii agents, living conditions in nyc (no relation to previous item), rollercoasters, the subway

fears  blood, cockroaches, crowds, death, disappointing his family, his family period, smooth peanut butter, snakes, spiders, vending machines

hobbies  assigning homework, billiards (surprising who?), playing chess, solving crosswords, scrabble, sudoku — only the coolest activities for him, obviously

habits  bites pencils when deep in thought, cracks back against chairs, gestures to whiteboards that simply don’t exist, writes with said pencils on imaginary paper

002.  EXTRA ORDINARY

near death experience…  

“you two! i swear on my non-denominational god that i am not forcing you to believe in, if i see you trying to axe deodorant the animals into making a little baby leopard in front of you, i’m calling your mums and telling them to pick you up this instant.”

the two snicker in response. saint isn’t sure how to respond if not with a wave of his hand, a pinch of his brow, a tour-guide-induced plug of his ear for when half his salary goes to dealing with the legal repercussions of incident number graham. this is his first field trip sitting in as a supervisor, and between the bloody boring itinerary his class has been breaking for the past few million hours and the boorish colleague he’s been paired up with he reckons that it will be his last. good riddance, he will say. good riddance, the class will say. really, the people of new york pay high enough taxes for their final destination to be more than a borough away. yet, here he stands in the densest stench he’s known since ap calculus was moved to seventh period.

this is not what he signed up for. you know what he said, when teachers asked what superpower he wanted to have? his voice would crack and his face would be lightning-split open into a barely-toothed grin and he would say he wanted to be a teacher because wow! they did so much for so little! and the teacher’s voice would crack and their face would be thundering with the truth and they would move on with their days because saint senyoyi had parents who hated him and peers who tolerated him and the guidance counsellor could deal with all that when she got back from happy hour.

he knows what he wants. something cold to drink. stupid brooklyn uniforms have gotten dark enough to hide period stains but continue displaying the effects axe deodorant has on his physiology with pure crystal. he excuses himself temporarily, tells the tour guide he’s off to the bathroom and that all the kids have do not resuscitates somewhere between their baggy pockets and knockoff gucci fanny packs, and gets to a vending machine. it’s bad, he knows, to continue to support capitalism and pollution after all the public service announcements from the lions of lying-about-admissions-policies colleges but it’s all he can afford and all that he wants and you know what superpower he did not wish for? guilt tripping. it’s a part of the faculty welcome package, but he’s never liked gifts.

no diet options. not like he cares. he hasn’t had much time to go to the gym lately. he just needs energy. a temporary fix.

the vending machine, he finds on a note far too small to be in compliance with the the occupational safety and health administration’s latest spicy issue, is temporarily unserviceable. not like he cares. he’s already annihilated the rules by leaving his class to their own devices, shiny and beepy and blackmail-filled as they are. this is just the narcotizing nightcap on the mushroom cloud. he slips a coin through the slot and waits.

and waits.

and waits.

and waits.

bloody hell. tommy j’s probably got his arse stuck between an alligator and a hard place by now, assuming sophie m’s greasy ipad hasn’t liquidated underneath the september sun. and assuming they haven’t broken up again, which is a flimsy variable by itself considering the seating arrangement’s got tommy j next to jason m and in front of jayson w and the three of them were exchanging notes yesterday like their lives depended on it. saint knocks on the glass. his parents never bothered to knock, but his sister had in the tune of an old ugandan choir song about welcoming and stars, so he does the same. welcome, cold coca-cola into his hands. welcome, please.

next he’s seeing stars. this is getting ridiculous. the machine is burping, whirring, choking, doing what saint should be doing as he details how the penguin populace has plummeted because of plastic straws and whatnot. he groans. only one thing left to do. he shakes.

and shakes.

and shakes.

and shakes.

next he’s seeing stars and blood and bone and you’re going to be a star saint because sophie m is taking a video of the entire ordeal as russell p drops his forged permission slip between sobs call 911 what’s the british version of 911 he’s english jayson same thing crapface pay attention in geology that’s geography jayson CALL 911 SCREAM CRY IS IT LUNCH IS HE DEAD SCREAM CRY I’M GETTING A REFUND CALL 911. there is glass everywhere. the ringing in his head is louder than the cries, the screams. pain is piercing yet heavy, paperwork that acts like a cactus to his poor eyes. that’s what he’s going to die as? the idiot who got crushed under a vending machine? no. he just needs to move. get out of the geysers and into a hospital that won’t charge him several billion dollars to get in.

he just needs to move.

he is not going to die before getting his one dollar bonus from the state exams.

SAINTS DO NOT DIE where did you come from father ABSOLUTE DISSOLUTION an inch towards the snake enclosure could save me SAVE YOURSELF swimming around nana’s lake house i wonder if i would taste good right now i wonder if a hot emt will try and save me SAVE YOURSELF you taught me how to swim by throwing me in the lake SAVE YOURSELF

he comes back with a massive headache, three exams to grade, and the power to move things with his mind. and a viral remix of his death, but he still hasn’t watched that in full. he’s told the chorus is incredibly vulgar.

power…  

“i wasn’t cheating!”

saint is making a scene for the first time since the tender age of five years old for bragging rights and a lukewarm beer. he hasn’t been accused of cheating since his preliminary foray into the cutthroat world of primary school mathletes, and that situation had the excuse of being started by a bespectacled potato sack no older than five years old herself. he’s kicked out for a myriad of reasons, none of which he believes are based on truth: he had fixed the game, he had fixed the bets, he had fixed his life and therefore had no business being with his friends. honestly? he thinks they just can’t look at him the same after seeing his broken body in a bed of glass, and he can’t blame them for that. he blames them for what happens, next, though.

he retreats to his apartment in shame, exile. daedalus has lost his son, he has lost his place on the top ten trivia masters. then he learns that he can fix everything in his apartment with nothing more than a mathematical buttload of attention and his mind. which, yeah, sounds boring when he puts it like that, but it’s telekinesis. objects already within arm’s reach require little to no effort to move towards him, while materials any farther than that require great concentration and a clear view to be moved. saint and telekinesis have a relationship comparable to a coparenting strategy on the verge of collapse, and none of it is particularly empowering. if he desires to take control of a stack of papers he has to focus on those papers, get an unobstructed path to those papers, stare at those papers for a solid few seconds wherein a hostile could stab him in the back. if he decides that he does not want to touch those papers, they have about a 50-50 chance of coming at him in an effortless tornado anyhow. it makes thinking inconvenient, which makes his life inconvenient. still, they’re something. he can lift roughly as much as he can with his arms, which is around the hundred-fifty pound mark with oscar-worthy thanks to a premium gym membership he passive-aggressively received from his mother some years back, although he has limits. many of them, in fact.

drawbacks / vulnerabilities…  

“shitterdoodle cookies.”

saint is on the same ground level of pathetic as his choice in curse words, for someone who has access to the school twitter account and all the bots that spam it for engagement. the heavier the object, the harder it is to move in manners that do not sound like nails on a chalkboard. the more he uses his ability, the more he is exhausted, liable to ramble about sensitive industry secrets or his feelings. neither will stop, neither will leave the conversational partner with any semblance of sanity. he has to be careful with how long he spends looking at anything, too, lest he drag some family heirloom other than his own through new york mud. also, everything he moves seems to really like his face. his pockets are nothing but bandaid collections by now.

cerberus corp…  

“and i am auditioning for the part of…”

that’s not quite right, is it? he clears his throat. a decade of teaching under his overly tight belt and there persists a lump in his throat whenever it must open. saint’s feelings on cerberus corp are complicated in the way that proving 1 + 1 = 2 is complicated. it’s a fact of life to most, easy to accept for some, but it’s also something that gets the smart alecks of the yearbook salivating and thus something he does not want to be involved in. well, strike that out and rewrite it in the past tense, his teachers would demand, for he now desires a status in american society that does not amount to school/fast food slander scene packs or graves with no return policy. his audition video was enough to get him invited for an in-person appointment, but he suspects that the possibility of him using lights and strings to get the effect of telekinesis pulled along a hundred-pound weight in comparison to his ounce of charisma.

he gets accepted, anyways, by some miracle. maybe it’s merely a seasonal investment in the marketability of a man who can soon hurl snowballs at unprecedented heights and velocities if he manages to concentrate. concentration is harder these days, however, and that descriptor of his career prospects comes with a near-overdose of pressure. he’s been with cerberus for roughly a month now, though the days blur with the hustle and bustle of extraordinarily tedious tasks assigned by the big bosses. saint is a worker bee to his core, though, and understands ranks, roles, and professional hierarchies better than breathing, so he questions nothing. as long as management of his powers is a possibility, the probability of him becoming a manger who has to do zero practical saving is above zero.

saint isn’t the best partner to have around, per se. his abilities are useful, but his personality isn’t much of an asset unless the mission involves stationary store espionage, and his desperation for a guide to everything is everlasting. nonetheless, he is nothing if not nice and accommodating to those he respects (ie everyone except agent jester. dishes can only go unwashed for so many days before his conscience is wiped clean of sanitary scruples) and aims for perfection. which isn’t the best philosophy to have around, per se, but at least he’ll do all the paperwork for you with zero prompting.

codename…  

“vender bender? i would rather die again than be called that for the rest of my life.”

it’s a joke, but saint’s never been proficient with making those. his comedy is a dependent variable, a misshapen animal lump coagulating to the back of circumstances that prove truth is stranger than fiction. proof: here, now, as his branding is being discussed in a manner far too formal for the setting they find themselves in. he has no idea how he got here, honestly. how he got with cerberus, how his card didn’t turn red at the door of the bar. he supposes it’s something like the pythagorean theorem, if the hypotenuse was meant to be the shortest side. he’s not the shortest level iii agent, thank the non-denominational god that he is not forcing anyone to believe in, but there is a nagging feeling that he does not belong, that however many lives he saves he will always be the guy stuck under the vending machine traumatising upwards of infinity children.

he’ll stick with something short and sweet, thank you very much. occam’s razor has never cut murphy’s law while shaving at three in the morning. it is time to show the party how real english billiards is played. he’s set up his own cushions at the left and right ends, shown off his custom snooker spectacles, let everyone know what a genius he is. this is his element, the art of arithmetic gambling. one shot and he’s set for the night, getting his drinks paid by everyone in a fifteen foot radius.

he takes the shot and gets his nose broken by the ball going straight to the hard, wooden edge and bouncing straight to his hard, idiotic face.

agent billiard. that’s a joke for the ages. it’s short, sweet, and a math pun. saint hates puns. cerberus loves the name. saint then decides he loves it, too, changing his social media handles accordingly.

(this is me begging for someone to have their agent suggest billiard after seeing saint smack himself in the face with a cue stick pls and thank you)

003.  EXTRA

tl;dr of backstory while i make it all nice and fancy: the middling middle child of a blackjack dealer for one of the most corrupt casinos in london and a professional sports gambler, saint has always wanted to help people. he’s just never liked people. he’s always liked math, though, and upon moving to the us of a for the sake of his older sister’s career in medicine, he made sure that, if he was to be ignored by his beloved parents, he would be ignored and rich. flash forward to getting his first job at his alma mater which has improved in much the same way that milk improves by growing curds and the lowest college admissions rate in the city, getting crushed by a vending machine, getting kicked out of his favourite bar for cheating at billiards with superpowers, and getting his cool agent nickname his cool agent roomie and his uncool first few missions; if you need a reluctant ass-kicker/incredible ass-kisser/high school math tutor, this is your guy. his mission suit is 100% an actual suit. it doesn’t look cool whatsoever tho it’s the same getup he got into for seventh grade winter formal <3 also he's a faithful reddit user. thats his biggest character flaw i think but he's addicted to r/billiards and does not intend on quitting ever

wanted connections page here!!

[edengarden]

Hello!Can I please get a regular male matchup for BNHA? :>>

Here’s the basics!

Libra

INFJ-A

Ravenclaw

I’m a 5’5 with quite a big chest but I don’t have a butt and I have long black hair that reaches my butt. I have brown eyes with very long eyelashes (I HAVE NO IDEA HOW IS IT SO LONG).I have terrible eye sight so I wear glasses (the rounded ones) I usually keep a mutual face around people I don’t know. If I’m around my close friends and family I always have a smile on my face all the time (for some odd reason)

I am an extroverted person but I get cheery and loud when I am with my close friends. People say I release an “intimidating” aura irl (idek why) .I take the mother role with my friends because I have high patience,I am protective and I help them with a lot of stuff. I send them a wholesome picture before online classes because some of them are moody?

Despite being an extroverted person,I get emotional from time to time.Sometimes I didn’t think what I said and I hurt other’s feelings.Before I had a lot of negative traits and it affected the present me. (I did learned a lot from it tho)

I always feel lonely?because on how my grandparents are judgmental.If I get one low mark they’ll give me a punishment.I don’t open to people that much since I felt like I was a burden to them.Today,that changed..thanks to the people who helped me.

My hobby is reading books and playing music instruments (especially the guitar and violin) Even though I’m a beginner at the violin I got used to it and learning new things from time to time.My favorite genre is Horror and Comedy books.I also like play to games like LoL,ML,Minecraft and more.

I vibe to any music tbh but I like pop and rock songs more.It makes me energetic for some reason lol

When it come to people..I tend to hangout people who are introverted because I felt like they are one of the precious people I’ve ever known!If you managed to get close to them.It makes me happy if they started talking a lot of stuff! What I don’t like about people is that they prefer “looks” because of that there’s this border in our class idek why is it there.I don’t usually like the “popular” people because they can pretty much take advantage of their popularity?

Fun fact about myself:

I like to dress myself as a “princess” and dance all the time back then.My parents recorded it and I hate it since I was girly when I was young.Today,I’m a bit boyish?

I’ll match you up with Ojirou!

It’s so wholesome; so cute!! Ojirou’s more on the introverted side of the scale but he found himself gravitating towards you bc wow you’re just so interesting?? Like yeah ok you seemed scary to him at first, but that just made him like you EVEN MORE when he saw how caring and willing to help you are. In his head, he constantly calls you a sweetheart (and that may slip out once in a while, god forbid you’re around to hear that). And you’re so open to personal growth?? He can see it; and it makes you wise, and you work so hard, and you respect people and you get along with so many people. Boy’s head over heels for you, he really thinks highly of you. Which isn’t that good sometimes because he thinks he’s totally not in your league or anywhere near it (we all know Ojirou struggles with finding himself original and exceptional; BUT BBY BOY I S ORIGINAL WE STAN). So when he finds out you like him too?? That you’re blunt enough to tell him what he thinks of himself is bs and that you think he’s so much more?? BLUSHY BOI.

This one is ready to do anything for you. You need a favour? His tail is WAGGING while he tells you that he’s down to help you. It’s so cute omg.

You two are more of a,, solitary couple? I think he enjoys being “alone together”, and he’s great company!! Ojirou loves to spend time with just you, and even though he understands the loneliness vibe(because he himself feels it sometimes), he really hopes to lighten that weight on your shoulders and he’s ready to do anything. Bby loves to just walk into your dorm room and sit next to you while you play LoL (invite him to play Minecraft with you and he’ll be ECSTATIC).

Songs!!

- Still Into You, Paramore

- Burgundy Red, Sunset Rollercoaster (OJIROU GIVES ME SUCH AN 80’S SYNTH VIBE I SWEAR)

- Voices Carry, ‘Til Tuesday

- Shake It, David Bowie

[shibalen]

H-hi I would like to request for Haikyuu and Yona of the dawn and um music box and jewellery box. I'm female, 18 y/o. My height is 172 cm. My hair is black and a bit below my shoulders. My skin is somewhat fair/yellowish. My eyes are dark brown and i wear glasses. My zodiac sign is Gemini and my MTBI test is ISFP-T. I'm still very confused about my sexuality so I'm okay with either and i never were in a relationship before. My hobbies are listening to music and watching anime. (1/2)🌼

Other than that, my hobbies change from time to time. I'm very kind and am very good at comforting. I'm very shy but open up very slowly to someone. I'm not that talkative. I'm very protective towards my friends. I'm very anxious, oversensitive and very insecure. I also lack a lot of self esteem. But even if i have flaws i try my best amd know that my friends are always there for me. I also get easily embarrassed. Thank you *bows* (2/2) 🌼

♡︎ matchup for 🌼anon

hi there! thanks for your patience, and i hope you enjoy your matches!

haikyuu: i match you with . . .

hinata shoyo !!

• isfp-t's tend to be sensitive and gentle as well as intense and experimental. i think you're a good balance for Hinata because you'd keep his feet on the ground while he would help you be more confident about yourself. believe me, this ray of sunshine would adore you to the moon and back !!

• he becomes more observant thanks to you as he learns better how to keep his voice down and excitability under control so you wouldn't get overwhelmed. he loves you and only wishes for your comfort ♡︎

• you came to cheer on Kenma and Kuroo actually for a Nekoma vs Karasuno practice match the first time you two met. After the match Hinata was looking for his friend when he spotted you being surrounded by tall strangers and looking rather anxious.

• his instincts made him jump in and try to get them to stop bothering you, trying to be as intimidating as possible. but then you reached out and said they were first years just asking for directions (・∀・)

• it was an honest mistake, you assured him and found his kindness touching despite the truth. your mutual friends helped you feel more comfortable around this ball of energy, and, though you had already graduated by then, he was able to confess his feelings.

• he's talkative enough for the both of you and will happily do speaking in your stead if that's what you want until you become accustomed to the situation. always encourages and supports you no matter what!

• doesn't understand why you'd feel insecure because he's in love with you for who you are, but can relate to the feeling of inferiority nevertheless. he's your biggest cheerleader and admires your determination to keep doing your best! honestly, you're his inspiration.

• he's delighted to say the least when you begin opening up to him. knows better than to pressure you but sometimes he can't help but to cheer you on "uwah, your laugh is so pretty, y/n! i wanna hear it more!" – "i like this artist too! you have such a great taste in music!"

• thinks it's awesome sauce that you switch between hobbies. you get to try out new things all the time, and whenever you show/tell him about what you started you can see stars in his eyes. it comes as no surprise he's tried getting you into volleyball too.

• you'd think with all the volleyball going on in his head Hinata's never been in a relationship before either. well, you are absolutely correct. you're just two awkward dorks in love trying your best.

• Hinata would be a stuttering mess at first, his hands sweating buckets as he tries to take hold of yours. however, once he understands you're also shy he makes an effort to appear more confident.

• brags about you to everyone because he needs them to know how incredible you are.

• one time when he was showing you volleyball he praised you for an amazing receive so many times that your face overheated and you hid in the corner from embarrassment. bby was so worried he'd said something wrong that he went crying to Suga. "i broke y/n!!" ｡ﾟ(*´□`)ﾟ｡

• tol girlfriend makes his heart go doki doki. loves that you accept his height as well (pre-timeskip at least). will give you piggybacks to train but to also have fun with you. post-timeskip you're the same height which means he lifts you up and carries you a lot more to make up for lost time (•̀ᴗ•́)و

• for dates you'd have, for example, anime marathons (his favorites are shounen, sports, and comedy, surprise!), go to adventure parks and conventions and shopping at music stores.

♫︎ music box

— Someone To You by BANNERS

— Sunkissed by khai dreams

— Talk Too Much by COIN

— Appreciated by Rixton

— Magic Shop by BTS

♡︎ runner up: Tadashi Yamaguchi

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

akatsuki no yona: i match you with . . .

kija !!

• all right, i have my reasons! Kija may be quite headstrong and startle you with that trait sometimes but he is also extremely caring and attentive—it goes well with your kind and shy personality, he finds those traits the absolute cutest. it also squeezes his heart how protective you are of your loved ones ♡︎

• this dear boy invests all of his emotions into everything he does so it's easy for him to get hurt. during times like these your presence and advice are the best remedies he could wish for. he seeks you out sometimes even not registering it himself.

• you'd known each other for a long time, having grown up in the same village, but hardly interacted due to Kija always being secluded and treated as a god. once he was escaping the women who were trying to get to him, and met you at the edge of the village. you offered to hide him despite knowing better.

• you stayed on his mind ever since and whenever he'd see you he called your name for attention. the word about you two got around fast but you weren't liking the attention. Kija just wanted to be with you without everyone poking their nosees into it.

• so when Yona, Hak and Yoon arrived at last Kija insisted you'd come with them, swearing to protect you from all harm!

• it saddens him that you don't have a lot of self-esteem. he easily goes into rants whenever someone else says something even slightly bad about you. will throw hands with that person regardless of who they are, don't test him. you might want to step in though if starts turning into a scene.

• anyway, he won't let you forget how much potential you have. he'll stop you the moment you try to put yourself down and lists all the great things you've done. he remembers your smallest actions and words of kindness and makes sure you do as well.

• Kija seeks your approval like a puppy. whenever he wins a competition against Hak or does anything even slightly praiseworthy he turns to you with sparkling eyes. lighting a fire? yep. cooking? uh-uh. waking up earlier than Hak? most definitely. "did you see that, y/n? amazing, right??"

• very blushy about anything publically affectionate, but if you're feeling anxious any situation at all he will gently make sure you know he's there for you. tenderly touching you or whispering "it's all right. you'll be okay", anything to help put your mind at ease.

• not to be nsfw or anything but please run your fingers through his hair and over his scars and tell him how proud you are of him. he will melt into your touch ｡ﾟ°(❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)

• it's so adorable though that you can compliment each other like there's no tomorrow but the moment you recieve one ever you'll turn into flustered little bundles ♡︎ it's quite fun for the rest of the gang to watch as you lowkey argue over who has prettier eyes.

• your dates include exploring around towns and villages, picnics by lakes and rivers, dancing to the music in city centres and studying new things such as a place or language—anything new that you're curious about!

𑁍 jewellery box

— favourite memory with you:

the time both of you got lost in a cave and separated from others. you were scared and worried whether or not you'd make it out yet still put on a strong appearance for Kija's sake. admittedly, he tried acting tough too although there were bugs everywhere and he was freaking out. you, on the other hand, were so gentle with him and joked around lightly to ease his mind. it wasn't a particularly the happiest memory but it's his favourite because it always reminds him what a loyal, kind spirit you are.

— favourite activity to do together:

he loves going exploring with you! it teaches him new things about the world but also you, what you're facinated or repulsed by, what are things that make you laugh or sad. overall Kija is very big on quality time so don't be surprised when he asks if you'd like to go on a walk or teach him how to do something.

— favourite place to kiss you:

forehead, forehead, forehead, maybe cheeks too. a kiss doesn't come the most naturally for Kija, and you both prefer to show your affections through other actions. but a forehead kiss is sweet and innocent. he likes giving them to you when you're parting or saying goodnight/morning ♡︎

— favourite nicknames for you:

hmm, i think he'd be too shy to use anything but your name. BUT in the spur of the moment of complimenting you he easily describes you as cute, lovely, beautiful, enchanting, to name a few (・ωｰ)

— favourite thing about you:

if it comes down to it, it's your protectiveness and how much you care for others that makes Kija head-over-heels smitten with you. he's the same, so knowing you two share the same values makes him incredibly happy as it brings you even closer together ♡︎ though if you're too nice to anyone he'll get jelly like a little doggy and whine

♡︎ runner up: Yoon

thank you for requesting, dear! i had fun finding songs for the music box ( ^ω^) stay well and healthy, you are important ♡︎

[homestuckexamination]

The format of that description looks to 100% like the real thing :O Did you spend a lot of time making it look as similar as possible, or is it part of a fan adventure or something like that? (Because I would totally want to read it if it was real)

I kinda wrote it on the spot back when I made it! She’s actually repurposed from an older OC of mine that I’m using for other things, so I had a solid idea about how she was already, and simply adapted it to an Alternian setting.

I HAVE considered making a Fanadventure in the past, but noooo way, I don’t have a team of people and it’d be way too much work for a side project X3. I would love to get involved in something big and Homestuck-y, but as a hobby, running four different blogs and doing art keeps me busy enough as is. Most of my OCs are either for Fun, or for planned Fan-Session RPs I’ve had with my friends, so there’s nothing really public around!

Also, I found my documents, so I now remember their Classpects and have all of their descriptions here!

Rhoxym - Seer of Doom

Jamita - Thief of Rage

Your name is JAMITASELKEE.

You think everyoneshould TAKE A STEP BACK and CHILL THE FUCK DOWN. Born as one of the rare JADECASTE, you have no shame in admitting your status as a RUNAWAY, and in fact,REVEL IN IT. You hold a PROFOUND BELIEF that everyone was put on this world fora purpose, and you are OUT TO FIND YOURS. Everything in nature, everything inlife, has a CONNECTION, a MEANING, and the more time you spend searching forthe MISSING PIECES IN YOUR LIFE, the more you have come to notice how ABSURDYOUR ENTIRE SOCIETY IS.

Everything from theCASTE SYSTEM to your SOCIETAL CONVENTIONS make absolutely no sense to you,which is why you’re lucky to be part of the ONLY CASTE IN YOUR SPECIES able towithstand the SEARING HEAT OF THE DAY, allowing to wander when NO ONE IS OUT TOFIND YOU. Furthermore, ever since your awakening as a RAINBOWDRINKER, you havehad no problems scaring away PROSECUTORS and even occasionally IMPERIAL DRONESthat wandered too close. You like trying to make others SEE THE WAY YOU DO,preferring REASON over VIOLENCE. However your INTENSE, OCCASIONAL THIRST FORBLOOD makes it hard to keep encounters CIVIL all the time. But that’s okay,your LUSUS helps you trap unsuspecting Trolls and Lusii for you to FEED ON. HerQUICK SANDS were the first thing that taught you patience and calm in diresituations, and for that you are EXTREMELY GRATEFUL TO HER, allowing her todevour the CARCASSES OF THE DECEASED, DRAINED BODIES YOU LEAVE BEHIND. LususCarcasses. Not Troll Carcasses, God dammit, you TRY TO NOT DRAIN THOSE OF YOURSPECIES COMPLETELY.

You are as much of aROOKIE PHILOSOPHER as you are a CONNOSIER OF FINE BLOODS, and without manymaterial possessions, some of your favorite past times involve HEATEDPOLITICAL, RELIGIOUS AND PHILOSOPHICAL DEBATES. These are the only times youtend to get CARRIED AWAY with more long winded messages and stronger emotionalresponses. You believe any ARGUMENT or GRUDGE can be solved with aHEART-TO-HEART, and often AUSPISTICE BETWEEN YOUR FRIENDS, even when they don’task for your help. SPECIALLY when they don’t ask for your help. You tend toKNOW BETTER than they do after all.

Your search for newENLIGHTENED HEIGHTS and your PURPOSE IN LIFE has led you to the occasionalconsumption of PSYCHOSOMATIC STIMULANTS, but with your lifestyle, it has becomeincreasingly difficult to find any of the GOOD STUFF around. You’re so closethough. You have been tracking your BLOODLINE for SWEEPS, and have spent DAYSIN DEEP MEDITATION over the plan PARADOX SPACE has for you, and you just FEELlike something is just about to UNLOCK YOUR CHAKRAS AT ANY MOMENT. But untilthen, you will just KICK BACK, RELAX and LET THE ECHOES OF NATURE FLOW THROUGHYOU.

Your username is transcendentMediator,and you kind of. don’t care about small talk. until you find something you careabout™.

Shikra - Bard of Doom

Your name is SHIKRAOMYINE and you have been VERY, VERY BAD.

Those of your blood,at the bottom of the HEMOSPECTRUM, are often treated with disrespect, and madeto face all sorts of ABUSE AND HUMILIATIONS, but out of all rustbloods you’repossibly the one with the MOST ROTTEN LUCK out there. You must have really donesomething extremely wrong in a past life, because KARMA is always a BITCH whenit comes to you.

As such, you’ve oftentried to SEEK REPENTANCE in order to sate the FORCES OF FATE ATTEMPTING TO DICKWITH YOU. And somehow, every single time, it BACKFIRES TREMENDOUSLY. But it’sokay. You’ve gotten USED TO IT with time. You have learned well that fate issomething you can’t stop. That NO ONE CAN STOP. Karmic destinies,predestination, they’re shackles tying civilization down, leading it down thepath of inevitability, and you’re pretty much just ALONG FOR THE RIDE ASEVERYTHING BURNS AROUND YOU.

You have NOCONVICTION when it comes to fighting fate, but if you believe it to be yourdestiny to do something, or see someone resisting their own fate, you will GOFUCKING NUTS and PUSH THEM THE WAY THEY ARE MEANT TO GO, no matter what thatfate of theirs may be.

Your room is aCOMPLETE AND UTTER MESS, you don’t remember the LAST TIME YOU CLEANED IT UP,but then again you also barely remember the LAST TIME YOU TOOK A SHOWER. Whybother after all? Everything is going to end up the same way in the end.

While some may callyour outlook on life FATALISTIC and OUTRIGHT WRONG, you have been using thisdemeanor of yours to HELP OTHER LOWBLOODS, specially other rusties, to ACCEPTTHEIR ULTIMATE FATE. You have held several congregations in your hive for thosewho have given up, and HELPED SPEED UP THEIR DEMISE. It feels good relievingsomeone of their SUFFERING.

…

Yeah.

You may be a bit of aFUCKING PSYCHOPATH.

Your username isominousEntropy, and you come across… as somewhat manipulative at times… haha…?;)

Tiamat - Page of Breath

Your name is TIAMAT SAAVAN, and you can’t remember the last time you TOOK AN ABLUTION. 

Not that there’s anyone around to MAKE YOU DO IT- And even if they were, what COULD they do about it? You’re probably one of the BIGGEST TROLLS YOUR AGE in just about every way, from the IMMENSE MANE that rivals that of HER IMPERIOUS CONDESCENSION’S, to your POWERFUL LEGS, which you have cracked QUITE A FEW LUSUS SKULLS with. You like HUNTING PREY, but if there’s anything better than that, it has to be MESSING WITH IT FIRST. OTHER TROLLS make particularly fun targets, when they find a SEEMINGLY LOST GIRL, alone in the JUNGLE. You get FREEBIES by TAGGING ALONG with them, but occasionally, you have also DRAGGED THEM BACK TO YOUR HIVE or ATTACKED THEM depending on the circumstances.

The area you live in is YOUR TERRITORY, which you inherited from your CHOLERBEAR LUSUS when you BESTED HER IN WILD, FERAL COMBAT. She was an overbearing burden either way, but taking your ONLY PARENTAL FIGURE so early in life, and in such an isolated location, had… CONSEQUENCES. DRONES don’t patrol this far into the Jungle, which also means you’ve spent a good chunk of your life ISOLATED FROM CIVILIZATION. Your Hive isn’t even in Imperial Records, having been CARVED through the years from a FALLEN, ANCIENT TREE, first by your Lusus and then by you. You have NO EXPERIENCE with social interactions, and yet, ironically, because of this, you possess a MATERNAL, NURTURING INSTINCT practically UNSEEN in most of Trollkind.

It was only last sweep that you got your hands on a PALMHUSK from one of the Trolls wandering too far into the woods. TURNING A NEW PAGE in your life, realizing that there’s more to the world than you thought it was, you’ve been… Trying to make friends. But sometimes you just need to STEP BACK and CATCH YOUR BREATH before you burn yourself out. 

Your trolltag is untamedPersuasion, and you. not really good. with big words yet. :( but you. try. :3

Lilith - Lord of Void

Your name is. 

Your name- 

… 

You have some PROBLEMS. 

Your name is LILITH MIRREA and you’re a completely AVERAGE TEALBLOOD.

You cannot exactly RECALL how most of your LAST WEEK has gone, or your ENTIRE LIFE for that matter. Everything BLURS together when you spend most of your waking hours in AUTOPILOT.

Your peers know you as an EXEMPLARY LEGISLACERATOR IN TRAINING. You have been STUDYING ALTERNIAN LAW from a young age, got yourself a NICE HIVE for you and your BLIND ANACONDA MOM, and proceeded to… Wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Night after night, you READ ALTERNIAN LAW. You TALK TO YOUR PEERS. You present yourself as the PERFECT ALTERNIAN CITIZEN, PERFECTLY RUTHLESS when needed, PERFECTLY COMPLIANT when required, PERFECTLY AVERAGE, PERFECTLY FINE. 

PERFECTLY DEAD INSIDE. 

You swear hardly a SINGLE ACTION you’ve done in your life has been your own. You STRUGGLE ENORMOUSLY with concepts regarding IDENTIY and WORTH, in a world that has proven to encourage keeping this SOUL-CRUSHING DAY-TO-DAY of yours. You have NOTHING you care about. You have NO ONE you trust enough to TALK ABOUT THESE THINGS, and you lack any semblance of WILL or DRIVE to accomplish anything in your life.

So you just keep going. The PERFECT ALTERNIAN ROLE MODEL. You KEEP WAITING. So that maybe something will eventually FILL THIS VOID inside of you. But… GOOD LORD.

You don’t know how long you can keep this up.

Your trolltag is listlessConduit, And you really talk in a sort of disinterested manner because like I dont know I guess some conversations are okay from time to time maybe

[thevoilinauttheory]

Never-Ending Survey | Maximiloix

Tagged by @elegie-de-sang! Thank you so much, and thank you for your patience! It’s been a while since I got this orz

Tagging: uhh... anyone who has wanted to do this and hasn’t! Please! Do! It! And tag me! I want to see all of your lovely characters!

BASICS.

FULL NAME: Maximiloix Soleil Voilinaut

NICKNAME: (Hates all of his nicknames) Max [by most], Maxie [by Caromont].

AGE:  109

BIRTHDAY: 28th Sun of the 1st Astral Moon

ETHNIC GROUP: Elezen

NATIONALITY: Ishgardian

LANGUAGE/S: Common, Old Ishgardian, Old Sharlayan, Dragonspeak (to a degree, his pronunciation is horrible), Sign Language; in the process of teaching himself Far Eastern languages and dialects; is familiar with Ilsabardian words and terms, unable to speak the language fluently.

SEXUAL ORIENTATION : Pansexual

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION : Panromantic

RELATIONSHIP STATUS:  It’s complicated. Legally, he’s single.

HOME TOWN / AREA:  Ishgard, Coerthas

CURRENT HOME:  Mist, Limsa Lominsa

PROFESSION: Teacher, Aetherologist, Historian

PHYSICAL.

HAIR: Unnaturally white with hints of brown. Base of neck length, kind of wavy. Very well groomed and taken care of.

EYES: One is a whitish-silver, the other is a light teal. Almond shaped, with constant bags under them.

FACE: Squared, angular jaw. High cheekbones. 

LIPS: Kinda average for his face shape and size, always wears lipstick.

COMPLEXION: Tanned from outdoor work, usually on the paler side.

BLEMISHES: Aside from the bags under his eyes, he has very few visible blemishes.

SCARS: A lot. Mostly covering his chest and back. The most noticeable ones are the thin scar along his cheek, and a nasty deformation on his right arm.

TATTOOS: Geometrical patterns are tattooed around his entire body, everywhere except his face, to help him cast magic easier and more efficiently.

HEIGHT:  7′4′‘

WEIGHT: ~200lbs. 

BUILD: Lanky and frail looking. He has muscle due to his time as a logger and Templar, but he is lacking in physical strength with his old age.

FEATURES: Long and well kept fingernails, well-groomed. All other prominent features have already been stated.

ALLERGIES: Deathly allergic to mushrooms.

USUAL HAIR STYLE:  Well washed and maintained, looks very soft. It is usually kept loose. On rare occasions, it will be tied back to keep it from getting in his face while he works.

USUAL FACE LOOK :  Annoyed, irritated, and angry.

USUAL CLOTHING:  Does not have much of a closet - or he does, and he prefers to wear the same thing everyday. Garishly long white robes, tight black pants, black high-heeled boots, and a black eyepatch.

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR/S: Drowning, being buried alive, being alone, being forgotten, losing his friends and family, powerlessness.

ASPIRATION/S:  To correct his many mistakes, and hopefully become on good terms with his family. Or at least speaking terms.

POSITIVE TRAITS: Protective, inquisitive, friend to the poor man. He *does* know how to have fun, I swear.

NEGATIVE TRAITS:  Almost constantly annoyed or irritated at something; power-hungry; selfish; will not hesitate to throw anyone under him when it comes to gaining new power and knowledge.

TEMPERAMENT:  Choleric / Melancholic

SOUL TYPE/S:  16% Educator / 15% Thinker / 12% Leader

ANIMAL/S: Falcon.

VICE HABIT/S: Alcoholism, Self-Martyrdom

FAITH: Halone, apparently. 

GHOSTS?: Believes in them to a degree.

AFTERLIFE?: Kind of?

REINCARNATION?: A more plausible and sensible option after death.

POLITICAL ALIGNMENT: Absolutely loathes people of noble birth, unless proven themselves to *not* be assholes. Stays on the side of the poor man, and will fight for their rights.

EDUCATION LEVEL:  While he doesn’t know everything, he does know a lot for someone who’s education level is “I learned how to read”. There were no schools for him to attend as a child, so he learned through experience, traveling, and reading.

FAMILY.

FATHER :  Adelnard Voilinaut

MOTHER :  Genevieve Voilinaut

SIBLINGS :  He is the eldest of 9 - here’s a list.

EXTENDED FAMILY: He has a lot of children and extended family members, and here’s a list as well!

NAME MEANING/S: Based off the Common, Eorzean, name, Maximillion - which means “Greatest Rival”. (Also I just used the random name generator and went “what a cool ass name” until I learned how to pronounce it.)

HISTORICAL CONNECTION?: None, in-game.

FAVORITES.

BOOK:  Will never admit it, but thoroughly enjoys raunchy romance novels. Good luck finding his collection.

DEITY: Halone.

HOLIDAY:  The Starlight Celebration. It gives him a reason to (begrudgingly - to keep up appearances) give gifts to people.

MONTH: Likely the 6th Umbral Moon (December)- not only the month of his favorite holiday and season; but it was the month he met Caromont as well.

SEASON:  Winter.

PLACE: Says Ishgard, but really wherever his family and friends are.

WEATHER: Loves snow, maybe not blizzards, but definitely show showers.

SOUND / S: Silence, tea kettle boiling, pages of books flipping.

SCENT / S:  Coerthan cedar; Dravanian Lilies; Furymint.

TASTE / S:  Furymint, black tea - lots of salt.

FEEL / S:  Wool and mink. Sanded down and polished wood; cold stone.

ANIMAL / S:  Likes animals, will not own any. Falcons are his favorite.

NUMBER: 3,582. Specific, but there’s a reason behind it.

COLORS: White, blue, gold.

EXTRA.

TALENTS: Magic and all things magical in nature; the ability to learn new things quickly. 

BAD AT: Focusing on anything that is not studying or interesting to him; cooking; can’t swim; bad at dealing with people - even worse if the person is upset. 

TURN ONS: Major turn ons include having his hair pulled on, and being embarrassed in public or in front of others. He is attracted to intelligence and someone he can lean on; being attractive is a plus.

TURN OFFS: Needy, or greedy for his attention. Displays low intelligence in situations that do not call for it. Sexually, does not like preforming oral - does not like mouth stuff, whatsoever.

HOBBIES: Reading, teaching, studying new things, traveling/adventuring.

TROPES: Jerk with a Heart of Gold; Big Ego, Hidden Depths; Villain with Good Publicity

QUOTES:

“He is not yours to burn - get out, GET OUT!”

“I have not felt such exhilaration in years…”

“I am not stupid, I am mad. You were a fool to trust me in the first place.”

MUN QUESTIONS.

Q1 : If you could write your character your way in their own movie,  what would it be called, what style would it be filmed in, and what would it be about?          

A1 :  It would probably be one of those villain origin stories, either of his life growing up; or it would be him slowly going mad - like my Memories!AU. It would be very dark, definitely an R movie, maybe even something horror-esque. As for titles? /shrug I’m no good with those.

Q2 :  What would their soundtrack/score sound like?          

A2 : Definitely piano, organ, and harpsichord based. Maybe a little violin and cello. Something soft and somewhat haunting.

Q3 :  Why did you start writing this character?          

A3 : Ha... ha... I don’t want to admit that it gave me a reason to be mean to people lmao. I’m generally a super nice person, a people pleaser, and a rug that everyone walks over. Max’s character was supposed to reflect a couple of things - if I handled my guilt worse than I have irl, and if he were the sarcastic, rude, bastard I have no heart to be.

Q4 :   What first attracted you to this character?          

A4 :  ^^ The above. Max was originally supposed to be young, naive, clumsy, and an anxiety ridden mess; and for the love of god, do not get me started on his original design. He became the opposite of those things, and Lothaire took up the mantle of his original personality.

Q5 :  Describe the biggest thing you dislike about your muse.

A5 :  Max is an absolute fucking asshat that can’t let things be. Let dead things be dead, kind of thing. Can’t move on. He will definitely step on his friends and family if it meant gaining more power.

Q6 :  What do you have in common with your muse?          

A6 :   The guilt of believing that we are the cause of the death to a loved one. I’m pretty sure I handled it better. We also have a lot of internalized rage.

Q7 :   How does  your muse feel about  you?          

A7 :   lmao, he probably hates me. I *am* the source of all of his angst and anger, tbh. His life has been a mess and it is literally all my fault.

Q8 :  What characters does your muse have interesting interactions with ?        

A8 :   Caromont, Shango, and Amarice - definitely. All three are people who push his ability to be a better person.

Q9 :  What gives you inspiration to write your muse ?        

A9 :  Max is one of those characters that everyday is inspiration for him - it’s just finding the motivation to write. He’s not necessarily my longest running XIV character, but he is certainly one of my favorites to RP. 

Q10 : How long did this take you to complete ?          

A10 : A while - I lost motivation, forgot it was in my drafts, then got it done during my entire shift at work lmao.

A big ol’ shoutout to @shangomango​ and @amarice-sovald​ for their characters and helping shape Max into what he is today.

[hotairbobballoon]

They say that life is full of highs and lows. Sometimes it goes well and other times less so. As I write I find myself at a rather low ebb with not much wind in my sails. And, as I’m in a thoughtful mood, I thought I would relay my experience using an analogy ~ my life is a hot air balloon trip.

When Jules and I set out in our married life it was like we climbed inside our brand new basket, fired up the pristine burner, and as the envelope filled with hot air we set off on our life adventure filled with anticipation and possibility.

As time went on we filled our basket with lots of things, e.g. friends, house, careers, holidays, and being part of a Church community. It wasn’t too long before we decided to embark on our biggest adventure by having children.

Harry and Bob landed in quick succession and we found ourselves firing up the burner a lot more to keep us in the air! But, being young, we took this in our stride and carried on looking at the horizon and planning adventures for the family of four.

Fast forward a decade and we have been blown off any course we might have planned. You see, Bob, our youngest, is a beautiful boy who has special needs, learning difficulties and a suite of behaviours that would be enough to make the Parson, Archbishops of both York and Canterbury and the Pope himself swear, lose patience and challenge the very core of their faith.

This has meant the we’ve been constantly drawing on our propane fuel tanks, pulling on that burner chord 24/7, and, instead of travelling at a comfortable height, admiring the view, and heading for a particularly marvellous destination we’ve been at about 2 foot above the ground trying to avoid crashing into trees, cows, fast moving cars and anything else that would be in our way.

Fast forward another 5 years and our burner is a bit worn out and, given the extra space needed for Bob, we’ve had to throw stuff out of the basket so we didn’t completely crash land in a heap. Although I genuinely don’t resent it I do lament the fact that I am no longer able to play an active role in my Church, have an ambitious career, have wonderful holidays [note to reader: never moan and whinge in front of me about your imperfect holidays – you will get no sympathy from me] , play musical instruments in the house [Bob hates that], have interesting hobbies, have a full and enjoyable social life, be spontaneous, and make the most of opportunities and gifts that God has given me. Basically, I have just enough energy and capacity to make it through the day by trying to look after my family and earn a living [note to self: maybe that’s good enough].

In the darkest and stormiest times I’ve felt like turning the burner off and ending it all rather unceremoniously. Other times I’ve been more pragmatic and considered getting Jules her own hot air balloon so we can have one each and share Bob. Not what we would want for our marriage but maybe a practical survival option at least. I do feel completely battered by the constant strain and pressure of keeping the balloon just in the air, bumping along the ground, enduring storms, avoiding obstacles, whilst trying to remain “British” by being pleasant and positive to those around me.

It hasn’t all been doom and gloom. We have friends, family and carers who come alongside us in their balloons to help. Sometimes Bob travels with others for a short period of time. This is great for him and also lovely for us to sample a different life. Although, we do choose to remain tethered to the other balloons so we are not too far away! 

Bob can be really funny, happy and a delight to be around. There are also fragmented moments when it’s just me, Jules, and Bob [and Harry too when he’s not in his own balloon] and it’s lovely and peaceful. The sun is out and we are basking in the sunshine and enjoying the gentle breeze. Unfortunately, we have learned from experience that thunderstorms are often just over the next hill and come about far too often.

The most difficult journey is yet to come. Whilst perhaps in the early years we may have dreamed of big adventures and realising wonderful visions of where we would be in later life I’m just hoping that, at the end, we have the softest possible landing. 

Because, you see, there is an inevitable end to our balloon journey.  One day the burner might permanently pack up, the propane fuel will run out, the balloon could irreparably tear, or the basket may break up. All I want is when this happens, i.e. we’re too old, too broken or have shuffled off this mortal coil, Bob can safely transfer to another balloon for the rest of his journey knowing he will be loved and looked after. I’m totally devoted to and love my unique chap and I guess that is the only vision I want to realise now.

Here’s to the rest of all our hot air balloon journeys – may they be full of sunshine, gentle winds and beautiful vistas.

Alex Clayton, Jan 2020

[caslikescoffeeandfreckles]

Hello again! This is a belated birthday offering to my first born child, light of my life and future ruler of the gays @asexualcas. Happy birthday, Bri! Love you always <3

Summary: Castielle is in charge of organizing the prom but doesn't have a date. Until one day she finds a box outside her locker with an invitation from a mysterious suitor. But there's only one person Cas truly wants to go with. The problem is: that person is her best friend, Deanna, and Deanna happens to have her eye on someone else. Word count: 7.8k Read on Ao3

Castielle groans and pushes her hands through her hair as if she can find the patience she needs hidden in the mess she hasn’t washed in like — god, what had it been? Four days? Five?

“I said the tulle needs to be draped two feet apart, Garth, not one and a half,” she calls out.

The boy on the ladder looks down at her with a broad smile. “My bad, boss! I’ll fix it!”

She looks down in time to see someone shuffling past her with an armful of white and flags them down. “Hey, hey, hey, what are those?”

Gilda looks like a deer in headlights as she comes to a stop. “Uh, they’re the flowers.”

Cas blinks. “But they’re tulips. I ordered roses.”

Gilda chews on her bottom lip for a moment, looking like she’d rather be facing down a train, before finally blurting, “The school said roses were too expensive.”

Cas feels her eye twitch. “Too expensive?” she echoes. “They slash my budget to a third, make me move venues with just a month’s notice to a smelly old gym, and I can’t even have goddamn roses?”

“I’m really sorry, Cas, but-”

“Oh yikes, I knew I felt a code red somewhere.”

Cas barely spares a glance as her best friend sweeps in, charming smile on full blast and securing an arm over Cas’s shoulder.

“What’s the crisis, ladies?” Deanna asks and the cheer in her voice makes Cas want to grind her teeth.

“The school cancelled my roses,” she all but growls.

Deanna hisses. “All right, I got this, Gilda. You run to safety.”

The other girl doesn’t even hesitate to escape.

Tightening her arm, Deanna steers Cas out of the mess that is the gymnasium. There’s still so much to be done: painting the backgrounds, stringing the lights, putting the stage together. 

“Cas, I know you have a lot going on right now,” Deanna starts when they find a quiet corner. “But you can’t keep scaring people and making them want to jump into a black hole.”

“It’s not like I’m trying to!” Cas protests. “But there’s only a week till prom, the theme sucks, we have no money, and everyone is counting on me to pull some grand magical night out of my ass!”

Deanna’s lips quirk at the outburst but she reigns in the smile and reaches for her friend’s hand. Cas lets her take it. “Hey, hey, I know. It’s a lot. But first, everyone knows that none of this is your fault. They know you can only to do your best with what you’ve been given, which isn’t much because Principal Crowley is a dick. And second, I think the theme is cool as fuck.”

Cas snorts and rolls her eyes. “It’s masquerade, Deanna. It’s the most overdone theme of them all.”

“That doesn’t necessarily mean it won’t be fun. I mean, if we have to spend extra hours in this building outside of school, isn’t it kind of nice that we won’t have to see all these ugly faces?”

This time when Cas snorts, it’s with humor, and she punches her friend lightly. “Now you’re just being mean to cheer me up.”

Deanna grins and it lights up her entire face and not for the first time Cas wonders if the summer green of her eyes are actually glowing or if Cas is just crazy. “Worked like a charm.” She winks and that’s all Cas can take and she looks down.

“I’ll try to ease up,” she promises, looking at the floor. Which could really use a good waxing. She’ll bring that up with the custodian on Monday.

*****

Saturday evening, Cas finds herself walking to the Winchesters’. Deanna had made her swear to a sleepover to make sure she didn’t spend her entire weekend working on prom. Which was irritating but also fair considering Cas had spent her morning and afternoon painting backgrounds and the cheap candelabras they’d found at Hobby Lobby.

When she reaches the house, she gives a soft knock and lets herself in. “Hello?”

“Come on in, sweetie!”

Cas follows the voice to the kitchen. “Hello, Mrs. Winchester. Trying out a new recipe?”

Mary Winchester looks up from the cookbook she’s staring at like it’s encrypted and smiles at Cas. “I was going to make an attempt but I think I’ll play it safe and just order pizza.” She closes the book and pushes it away with great pleasure. “How have you been?”

Cas shrugs out of her backpack and drops it in one of the empty chairs at the table next to Deanna and Sam’s. “Not too bad. Keeping busy with prom and finals.”

Mary makes a sympathetic sound. “I can only imagine. Dee’s been out there all day working on a ramp or something.”

“A ramp?”

Mary just shrugs. “Something about a terrace and a ball. I don’t know. I’m gonna go ahead and order. You can go on out and tell Dee dinner will be here in about thirty minutes.”

Glaring with suspicion, Cas opens the back door and makes her way across the Winchesters’ back yard. There’s a loud roar coming from the work shed, followed by some clanging, and Cas waits until it quiets to knock on the door. She’s learned by now never to just walk in or she’s likely to lose an eyebrow or a hand.

There’s some more clanging and then shuffling and a moment later, the door swing opens. Deanna stands there, skin shining with a layer of sweat, tank top clinging to her body and her trusty flannel tied around her waist. She’s got her hair pulled back and huge goggles sitting on top of her head. It’s almost silly but also somehow the hottest thing Cas has ever seen and her mouth feels dry as a desert. 

Deanna grins and motions Cas inside. “Hey, Cas! Step on in and see where the magic happens.”

Cas follows slowly. “Were you... welding?”

The shed is hot and could use some better lighting but she can make out the array of tools lining the walls on pegs or tossed into the dozen-and-a-half tool boxes Deanna shares with her dad. This is where they work on cars together, usually some old classics John lucks into at junk yards. 

But instead of a busted engine taking up all the space, today it’s some sort of large rounded frame. 

“What is this?”

“Right now, it’s shit,” Deanna says with a sigh. “But it’s gonna be... this.” She goes to the work bench and grabs a piece of paper and hands it to Cas.

It’s a balcony like right out of a Disney movie with intricate balusters and a dark stone appearance. 

Cas looks at her best friend as if she’s lost her mind. “You’re going to make this?”

Deanna shrugs. “Yeah. Once I get the frame done, Charlie and I are going to mold foam around it and paint it to look like stone, and I then I can just attach it to the stage. I already took the measurements.”

“What? When?” She didn’t remember seeing Deanna in the gym with a damn tape measure and there’s no way Cas would have missed it because she’s practically in that room more than she’s in class.

“When you were busy yelling at Garth about fake candles or something.”

“I didn’t yell at him,” Cas grumbles.

Deanna laughs and takes her blueprint back. “You literally told him to stick the ones with the orange-tipped flames up his ass.”

A shameful blush burns across Cas’s cheeks. “Well... they looked tacky.”

“Yeah, okay, promzilla,” she mumbles and reaches for her water bottle

Cas glares. “Were you ever going to tell me about this?”

Deanna nods as she swallows and Cas does not at all track the movement of her throat. “Yeah. To be honest, I was considering saving it as a surprise and having you walk in Friday and just find it there. But then I thought how shitty would it be if you put all this work into a dance and died of a heart attack the night before. So I’m letting you know now.”

“How considerate of you.”

Deanna’s smile is smug. “I try.”

Cas looks between her friend and the frame and shakes her head. “Why... why are you doing this?”

The smug grin softens into a sweet smile and Deanna’s eyes fall to the floor and she rubs the back of her neck. It’s a reaction she has often and it always manages to catch Cas’s breath. Somehow endearing but also heartbreaking because if this was a story, it would be a sign. A giveaway for Cas to know that maybe...

“Because I knew it would make you happy, dude.”

But no.

Cas breathes slowly and manages to smile in turn. “Well, thank you, Deanna.” 

They fall into a short silence, neither looking at each other. 

“Um, your mom is ordering pizza for dinner,” Cas says, breaking it. “Said it should be here in thirty.”

It seems to do the trick because Deanna perks up and makes a face. “Ugh, I need to shower before dinner then. I must smell like a lumberjack.” She sniffs at herself and wrinkles her nose. “Oh god, maybe even worse.”

Cas follows Deanna out of the shed and back into the house. Deanna goes to shower and Cas makes herself comfortable in Deanna’s room. 

The pizza arrives when Deanna is still cleaning up so Cas fixes both their plates and brings them back to the room.

She’s on the bed watching Netflix and about to take a bite when the door opens and Deanna walks in in just a towel. 

“Woo! That felt amazing!” Deanna says with deep enthusiasm as she moves toward her dresser.

And Cas just stares like a fucking creep until a glob of cheese falls on her lap and she jumps. She picks it up and puts it safely on her plate and keeps her eyes firmly on her computer screen while Deanna changes.

Once Deanna is dressed, she joins Cas on the bed and takes her plate with a grateful smile settles in close to watch the show. She smells amazing, like coconut and vanilla, and she’s nice and warm and soft and Cas is nearly high with it. 

The lack of boundaries between Cas and Deanna is like a blessing and a curse. A blessing because not many people allow Cas to get this close to them anymore. A curse because Cas longs to be closer with every cell in her body.

“You know,” Deanna says after some time when they’ve finished eating and they’re just cuddling. “With all this prom mess, I keep forgetting to ask you who you’re going with.”

Cas frowns. “I’m not going with anymone.”

Deanna sits up suddenly. “What do you mean? Hasn’t anyone asked you?”

“No.”

“But you’re the one organizing the entire dance.” Deanna sounds outraged.

Cas sighs. “Deanna, there are only like three queer women at our school and two of them are dating each other. I would never want to go with a boy and no straight girl is going to ask to even go as friends because they don’t want people to start talking or assuming things.”

Deanna pouts as Cas lays the truth out. “But you’re putting so much work into this. You shouldn’t have to go alone.”

Cas shrugs. Honestly, she doesn’t think it’s fair either, but it’s not like there’s anything she can do about it. There’s only one person she’d want to go with anyway.

“What about you? Have you decided who you’re going with?”

Deanna had been collecting offers since March. It wasn’t surprising. Deanna was universally beautiful with her long blonde hair, flawless freckled skin, and bright green eyes. And there wasn’t a person in their school who she didn’t call friend. She’d been asked out by someone from all circles, from the theater club to the third baseman of the baseball team. But to Cas’s knowledge, she still hadn’t accepted any.

Deanna sighs and gets back into her comfortable position, resting her head on Cas’s shoulder. “Not yet. But I have someone in mind. Someone who I want to ask. Someone special.”

Cas tries not to make a sound when her heart aches and instead runs through all of their close mutual friends who could have piqued Deanna’s interest. Garth? Benny? Victor?

“Uh, kind of last second to be asking someone, don’t you think?”

Deanna hums. “Yeah, but I think they’ll agree that it’s worth the wait.”

The affection in Deanna’s voice is beautiful and crushing. So Cas doesn’t say a word and just stares at the screen in front of her, praying for this to all end soon.

*****

Monday morning is a nightmare. Cas called Benny over early with the promise of donuts and coffee to help her load the backgrounds into his truck and drive them to school.

She can’t help but watch him as they drive. Of all their friends, Benny is probably the closest male friend Deanna has. The most “special.” Cas had never saw reason to suspect an attraction between, but she supposed now it wouldn’t be ludicrous. They were both very attractive people with similar interests. They were both athletes, very family driven, and loved food that would either rot their teeth or land them in a diabetic coma. 

He could be the one Deanna planned on asking.

Cas considers prying but bites her tongue. She doesn’t need to know anymore than she already does or she’s just going to hurt herself. 

So they unload the backgrounds with easy talk about school and finals. Cas pays up on the donuts and coffee and they go their separate ways for first period. 

The day is long and tedious and Deanna’s usually sunny appearances don’t seem to warm Cas quite the same.

The last bell finally rings and Cas makes her way to her locker. Every part of her just wants to go home but she has a few hours to put into the gym at least and then homework before she can just face plant into her bed and ignore the world.

As Cas nears her lockers she notices a crowd forming. Frowning, she forces her way through until she can see what’s drawn all of the attention.

There are velvet ropes leading up to her locker and resting at the foot of it is a wooden box. 

“What’s all the fuss about?”

Cas turns and finds Charlie at her elbow, the redhead looking confused but also ready to burst out laughing any second. 

“Isn’t that your locker?” she asks and Cas nods. “Aren’t you going to open it?”

“I’m a little scared to.”

Charlie laughs and gives Cas a small shove. “Come on, I wanna see what it is.”

So Cas carefully  steps between the ropes and bends to pick up the box. It has beautiful gold accents and a swirling design and she takes a moment to just run her fingers over it. But she can feel the crowd buzzing around her with curiosity so she relents and opens it. 

There’s a card, just as beautiful as the box with her name is curly gold lettering. She opens it and reads the message:

My dearest lady and angel

Who walks in beauty like a psalm

I humbly ask for your consideration

In accompanying me to prom

Should you agree I’ll have never known

Such happiness and wonder

To show you accept please take my gift

And meet me at 9 where feet become the thunder

Cas’s hand is shaking as she moved the card and sees the gift. It’s a mask of black late and beautiful silver stitching and beads lining the edges. It’s stunning and better than anything she could ever hope to find at a Party City or costume store. 

She turns with it in hand and Charlie is just behind her. “What is it?” she asks with burning excitement. 

“I think...” Cas starts and loses her voice for a moment. “Uh, I think it’s someone asking me to prom.”

The students around her break into applause and Cas tries to hide her blush. She puts the mask and the invitation back in the box and awkwardly navigates through everyone and to the gym. She never even opens her locker.

*****

By lunch on Tuesday, Cas has spent pretty much every waking hour wondering about that box and who could have left it.

It’s just insane! Things like this don’t happen — especially not to her. She had been prepared for the ostracization that came with coming out two years ago. She’d of course kept her core group of friends — which in fact included the other two gay women of the student body. It was the rest of the school that changed. She wasn’t met with hostility but there was definitely a quiet around her, a little more distance put between her body and those of her peers, and definitely some... questionable means to changing in the locker room.

And it’s not like Cas had been well-liked before. Deanna said she could come off a little intense and occasionally conceited. Cas just wrote it off as rusty people skills.

Either way, nothing led to this possibility: a mysterious invitation to prom in what Cas is reluctant to see as quite adorable and romantic fashion. 

Charlie had kept calling it a promposal yesterday as they’d continued preparing the gym. Between Charlie’s big mouth and all the people who had witnessed it personally, everyone on Cas’s staff knew about the box and it was the talk of the evening. She’d had to snap at people more than a few times to get them refocused on their assigned tasks rather than her potential prom date.

“Oh, what’s that smile for?”

Cas blinks and suddenly Deanna is there, claiming the seat opposite her at the lunch table. 

“Must be dreaming about her mystery suitor,” Charlie sings as she joins them. 

Cas almost touches her lips, not even aware she’d been smiling. She tries to tone it down even as Deanna beams.

“What?” she almost yells. “Mystery suitor? What’s that about?”

“Cas got a promposal yesterday! From a secret date she’s supposed to meet at the dance.”

“Oh my god, Cas! That’s awesome! Are you gonna do it?”

Even though Cas had put the possibility out of her head right away, it still hurt to hear Deanna so happy at the thought of Cas going to prom with someone else.

“I-I haven’t decided yet.”

“What?” both Deanna and Cas screech.

Cas gives a small shrug and pokes at her french fries. “I appreciate the gesture, but this person is a stranger. There’s no way to guarantee it’s a woman whose actually interested in me and I don’t want to get my hopes up. How do I know it’s not just some meat head trying to Carrie me?”

Deanna and Charlie share a look. “You think this could be a trap?” Charlie asks.

Again, Cas shrugs. “I’m just considering all the possibilities.”

“Cas,” Deanna says softly and reaches for her hand. Cas hates when she does this. She looks up into those summer green eyes and tries hard not to face plant in her food. “Don’t do this. Don’t just run through every possible bad scenario and scare yourself out of this. Someone wants to take you to prom. You should be happy.”

Cas grimaces. “Unless that someone just wants to pour pig’s blood over me or hang me from the bleachers.”

“Jesus Christ, Cas!” Deanna gasps and releases her hand.

“Cas, I think you’re thinking about this a little too hard,” Charlie says weakly, looking a little ashen.

Cas looks between the two of them and frowns. “I don’t think you guys fully understand the vulnerability of my situation. Deanna, is practically the poster child of the all-American heterosexual dream girl-”

“Hey!” Deanna cries, sounding deeply offended. 

“And Charlie, everyone has known about you basically since elementary school and you’ve been dating Gilda almost half of our lives. You’re both loved and accepted while I’m casted as the evil lesbian just because I don’t smile and gravel every time someone has the basic human decency to say ‘hi’ in the hallway.” Cas’s voice lowers to a growl as she finishes her sentence and she glares at her two friends. “So please excuse me if I have a few reservations about receiving an invitation to prom from a stranger just five days before the actual dance.” She stands with her half-eaten lunch.

“Wait, Cas,” Deanna starts.

“I need to finish something in the gym,” is all Cas offers as a goodbye.

*****

Wednesday evening is a nauseating mix of relief and anxiety. All of the painting was finished the day before, so Cas and her crew were able to clean up the tarps and have the floors waxed last night. Now they have the stage set up and and they’re arranging the backgrounds to cast the perfect setting for a masquerade ball. 

Everything is finally coming together and it looks like they’re actually going to pull this off. 

And then Deanna comes through the gym’s side doors with Benny and her father and every instinct in Cas urges her to hide.

They haven’t spoken since Cas’s blowup at lunch yesterday aside from a few apologetic texts from Deanna. Cas hadn’t been able to bring herself to respond and she feels like an asshole now more than ever.

Their eyes catch from across the gym and Deanna offers a small wave. Cas returns the gesture awkwardly and watches Deanna turn back to her dad. They prop the double doors open and a second later, with Benny’s help, the three of them carry the balcony inside. 

Cas tries really hard not to stare and observe the way Deanna’s muscles tense and flex as she lifts her side of the frame — but goddammit, she’s wearing those cutoff shorts Cas loves that show off her beautiful bow legs and Cas is only human, okay?

“Hey, boss?”

Cas turns her head and finds Garth watching her. There’s a knowing glint in his eye and she refuses to acknowledge. 

“Yes, Garth?”

“How many sconces do you want per panel?” He holds one of them up, another cheap prop she’d gotten on sale at Hobby Lobby.

“Just one in the center of each panel,” she instructs. 

He nods and starts to wander off. 

“And remember they need to be six feet from — actually, I’ll just come with you.”

She spends the next twenty minutes watching Garth and Aaron install each sconce exactly six feet from floor level and making sure none of them hung crooked.

Once she could trust them to finish the last few on their own, she left and found Deanna and her crew finishing up. Taking a breath, she finally walks over. 

John Winchester spots her first and smiles as he wipes the sweat from his forehead. “Hey there, Cas. Place is looking good.”

Deanna doesn’t look up from where she’s tightening something and Cas tries not to feel it like a punch to the gut.

Instead, she smiles at John. “Thank you, Mr. Winchester. I’ve had a lot of help.”

“It’s really no wonder considering the tight ship Cas runs around here,” Benny jokes as he climbs down from the stage.

John chuckles. “Yeah, I’ve heard some stories from Deedee.”

“Dad,” Deanna whines at the nickname. “Please not here.”

John’s smile is mischievous. “Oops. Guess I better get out of here before I embarrass my kid to death before she even gets to go on her hot date.”

There’s not enough willpower in the world to keep that one from landing like a punch. “Hot date?” Cas asks says, her voice cracking.

“Oh yeah, she’s been talking about her amazing prom date all week. Won’t tell anyone who the hell it is but it’s got her smiling all day long. Been playing love songs in the shed and everything.”

“Oh my god, Dad!”

John laughs off Deanna’s horror-stricken face. “That’s my cue,” he says and grabs his tool box. “See you around, kids.”

“I’m gonna head out too,” Benny says. “Deanna, you good?”

“Yeah,” Deanna says, eyes on the ground. 

“All right. See you tomorrow!”

They’re left alone. Cas has never felt this uncomfortable around her best friend — besides maybe during her summer of questioning and Deanna stripped right in front of her because honestly the girl has no sense of modesty.

Similar to that moment, Cas feels like she can’t look at her friend, can’t say a word, without destroying everything she’s worked so hard to keep.

“Uh, the place really does look good,” Deanna says quietly as if she senses the same potential dangers as Cas.

“Thanks,” Cas replies. “And this- this looks amazing,” she says, gesturing to the balcony. “I really can’t thank you enough for going out of your way to do this.”

“Oh. Yeah. It was nothing.”

It’s the most Deanna response Cas has ever heard.

“So you- you asked your date.”

“Hmm?”

“To prom,” Cas clarifies. “You asked your prom date out?”

Deanna clears her throat. “Uh, yeah. I did.”

Cas nods her head. They’re still not looking at each other and she feels ridiculous. “Well, that’s good. I’m glad.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Deanna says roughly. “And, uh, about yours... I, uh.” 

Cas hears Deanna take a deep breath and then feels a warm hand slipping into hers and she finally looks up. Deanna is looking right at her, meeting her eyes and it’s too much and Cas wants to run away and lean in and just risk it all.

“Cas, I’m really sorry about yesterday.” 

Cas shakes her head because this isn’t what she wants to talk about right now with Deanna’s hands in her and her lips just a few inches away. “It’s fine. I’m sorry for blowing up at you-”

“No, let me,” Deanna pleads. “I was an ass and I wasn’t thinking about you. I know this is harder for you — it shouldn’t be, but it is and I’m sorry for not being more understanding.”

Cas wants to just wave it off but knows it won’t do either of them any good. So she says, “Thank you,” and offers a smile.

Deanna grins back. “Any time. Guess I should let you get back to work.”

Cas looks over her shoulder at her crew running around and sighs. “Yeah.”

Deanna squeezes her hand. “I’ll see you later, ‘kay?”

Cas squeezes back. “Okay.”

*****

Thursday feels quiet and fragile. 

Deanna seems to be lingering around more than usual, popping up at times Cas isn’t used to seeing her. And she has this soft smile and there are gentle touches and special gazes and it’s completely disorienting and more than wonderful.

Cas has dreamed of something like this for years, being the center of Deanna’s world. Having wordless permission to touch and stare and love proudly and loudly.

It’s everything she could want and and for whatever reason today she has it.

And it hurts.

Because nothing has really changed. Deanna isn’t confessing her love, she’s not saying that she’s wanted to be more than friends for years now or that she’s realized what her feelings for Cas really mean and she’s not asking Cas to go to prom. They’re not holding hands down the halls or kissing. 

They’re just friends.

And they’ll stay friends until life finally makes them separate and they drift apart until they’re just a fond memory of easier times.

This isn’t love. It’s not a romance.

Deanna has someone “special” and she’s taking them to prom. 

All Cas has is a pretty mask and an anonymous offer. 

“So have you decided if you’re going to meet your secret admirer or not?” Deanna asks as they leave the gym that evening.

Everything is finished. They’ll spend a few hours tomorrow cleaning up and won’t see it again until Saturday night.

Saturday when Deanna will arrive and stand on that balcony she built with someone else and Cas will...

“No.”

Deanna looks at her. “No, like you still haven’t decided?”

“I’m not going to go.”

“Oh.” 

She registers the disappointment in Deanna’s voice but chooses not to internalize it.

“Why not?”

Cas sighs. “I don’t think I’m going to go at all.”

“Wait, like to prom?”

“Yes.”

Deanna stops moving and reaches out for Cas to stop her. “Why?” she asks, and it almost sounds desperate. 

Cas avoids her eyes, not wanting to betray any information she wasn’t ready to share. “I don’t want to go anymore.”

“B-but why?”

“I don’t know, Deanna. It just... doesn’t feel special anymore.”

“But everything you’ve done-”

“Has made these last few weeks the most stressful time of my life,” Cas interrupts. 

“Exactly!” Deanna cries. “So don’t you think you deserve to enjoy it? You did all of this, Cas.”

Cas squints at her. “Why does it matter so much to you? It’s not like we’re going together.”

Deanna reels back. “I-I don’t- I just don’t want for all of your hard work to go to waste.”

“It won’t. Everyone else will have a great time.”

“But you-”

Cas holds up a hand and closes her eyes, past her limit. “Please. I’m tired, Deanna. I just want to be done with it.”

Deanna doesn’t respond, still staring almost dumbfounded, and slowly deflates, arms dropping to her sides. Defeated. “Okay, Cas.”

They hesitate before both heading to Deanna’s car. They don’t speak as Deanna drops Cas off at home, barely say a goodbye when Cas climbs out.

She gets up to her room and falls on her bed, staring up at the ceiling and she couldn’t shake the feeling that she had just broken something beyond repair.

*****

It rains on Friday. It’s the perfect setting for how Cas feels walking into the school.

Everyone else seems to be buzzing, the seniors excited for tomorrow and chatting about their beautiful outfits and how they’re going to style their hair. 

Cas tries to drown it out and go about her day.

She notices Deanna’s absence almost right away but doesn’t seek her out. It somehow feels right that they’re avoiding each other and Cas doesn’t have the energy to try to fix it.

She’s the first to arrive for lunch and snags the usual table. Charlie and Gilda and Benny find her a few minutes later.

“Hey, have you seen, Deanna?” Charlie asks around bites of her pizza.

“No.”

“Hmm, I wonder where she’s been hiding. Benny, you seen her?”

“Nope.”

Cas frowns. “You mean none of you have seen her all day?”

The three shake their heads.

Cas feels worry creep into her chest and squeeze her lungs. It’s not like Deanna to skip school. Could it have been because of their conversation yesterday?

Cas glances at a clock bids her time. With just a few minutes to go, she takes one more bite of her lunch and stands. “I gotta go.”

She tosses her trash and hurries into the hallway as the bell rings. She catches sight of a shock of shaggy brown hair and runs to tap them on the shoulder.

Sam Winchester turns around with a frown but smiles when he recognizes Cas. “Hey, Cas!”

“Hi, Sam. Uh, where is your sister?”

The younger teen’s frown returns. “Mom and Dad let her stay home today.”

“Is she sick?”

Sam shrugs. “Dad woke up and found her in the shed tearing up an old hood.”

Cas’s stomach sinks. “Did- did she say what was wrong?”

She can see the worry in Sam’s hazel eyes as he moves closer. “We think her date dumped her. She was super upset last night but after this morning, we were all a little scared to ask questions. So Mom and Dad agreed to let her skip. Mental health day, I think.”

Cas has no idea how to respond. She can’t imagine how Deanna must be feeling after having that fight with Cas and then going home and her date who she’d been so excited to ask backing out. 

“Hey, I have to get to lunch,” Sam says, squeezing Cas’s hand. He’s more like his sister than he’ll ever realize. “But you should talk to her. You always seem to be able to make her feel better.”

He disappears into the rushing crowd before Cas can say anything.

After a lot of back and forth, Cas decides to follow Sam’s suggestion and talk to Deanna. She starts by sending a text later that afternoon. There’s no immediate response, which Cas had expected, but she gives it more time.

When there’s still no message from Deanna by the time school ends, she starts to feel the worry squeezing on her chest again. 

“You okay, boss?”

Cas looks blankly at Garth who isn’t smiling for once. 

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly.

He inches closer. “You know, if you need to get out of here, we can take care of the rest of this.”

She shakes her head immediately. “No, it’s fine. I need to-”

“Cas,” he cuts her off with was is probably the most stern tone she’s ever heard out of her classmate who still swears by sock puppets and gives out hugs like free candy. “We can handle cleaning up without you here to guide us. Go take care of your business.”

Cas doesn’t move at first, torn between her responsibility and her friend. But in a way, Deanna is her responsibility too. 

She hands her clipboard over. “Thanks, Garth.”

“No problemo.”

She drives to the Winchesters’ and invites herself inside like usual. Deanna is out back again and there’s loud music coming from the shed.

Been playing love songs in the shed and everything.

John’s words echo in her head and her body aches. Her best friend’s heart had been broken and Cas hadn’t been here for her.

She knocks on the door but it’s clear that over the music and the clanging Deanna isn’t going to be able to hear her, so she carefully opens the door.

Deanna has her hair pulled into a chaotic bun on top of her head. There are no safety goggles this time and she has a sledge hammer and is going to town on a beat up Camaro. 

“Deanna!” she calls out but gets nothing.

Cas slides her way over to the radio and cuts the music. Deanna jerks mid-swing and turns around.

“Cas? What are you doing here?”

“I was told you were destroying things and thought I’d check in.”

Deanna looks at the hammer in her hands and slowly puts it down. “I’m fine,” she says and fiddles with her water bottle.

Cas watches her for a moment and arches a brow. “So skipping school to batter a car is typical behavior you’ve just been keeping from me for ten years?”

When Deanna looks up, her eyes are tired and wary. It wipes away any sense of confidence Cas had going into this. She’s never seen that expression on her friend before. It’s almost like looking at a stranger and she doesn’t know how approach her. 

“I’m fine, Cas,” Deanna repeats and drinks her water.

Cas may not know what to do but she’s not going to just give up. “Is this about prom?”

“What?”

“Sam said your prom date may have backed out on you. Is that true?”

Fire flashes through Deanna’s eyes for a second and Cas figures Sam will be in for it later. “It doesn’t matter, Cas.”

“Of course it matters, Deanna. You’re clearly upset about this.”

Deanna fumes. “I’m not upset. It just-” She takes a deep breath and tries to calm herself. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not going.”

“What?” Cas almost shrieks. 

She watches Deanna spin around and start cleaning up her mess. There’s broken glass and tools thrown all around the shed. She carefully navigates the area to follow behind her friend.

“What do you mean you’re not going?” she demands.

“Just what I said. I’m not going.”

“But why? Is it because of your date?”

“No, Cas.”

Cas chews her lip. “Is it because of me?”

“What?” Deanna spins around. “Cas, no. I just don’t want to anymore. And you’re not going either so why do you even care?”

The question is shocking and Cas tilts her head. “Because you’re my best friend,” she says as if it’s obvious. And really by now it should be.

Deanna sighs and leans against the broken car. “I can’t do this, Cas.” Even though it’s addressed toward Cas, the way Deanna says it with her chin tucked into her chest is as if she’s speaking to herself. 

Cas’s heart reaches out for her but she keeps her hands by her sides. Her friend looks shattered and Cas would kill the person who did this if she could. All she can do is try to mend some of the pieces and get her friend through the next few days.

“I’ll go.”

Cas doesn’t register the words as her own until Deanna looks up and asks, “What?”

Cas takes a breath. “I’ll go if you go.” Deanna continues to stare and Cas squirms a little, feeling that damn blush run into her cheeks again. “I-I mean, we don’t have to go together. Not like a date or anything like that. But if you’re there then I’ll be there too. And we can make fun of the way people dance together and guess who got high in the parking lot before coming in.” She tries for a smile. “What do you say?”

There’s no change to Deanna’s face for a minute, but slowly her lips twitch and she laughs softly. “I think that’s the best promposal I’ve ever heard.”

Cas throws back her head and laughs. 

Deanna stands and steps closer. “Okay, Cas. I’ll be there if you’ll be there.”

*****

All of Saturday is dedicated to getting read for the dance. 

Cas’s mom was smart enough not to cancel any of her appointments and Cas spends hours in a chair with a strange woman pulling and burning her hair and spraying it with shit until even an explosion couldn’t budge a single strand. 

They get their nails done and then her mom hovers around while Cas has her makeup done because lord knows she could never be trusted to do this shit herself. 

It’s about ten times too much for Cas and she barley recognizes herself in the mirror when it’s all done. She wants to feel silly but she can barely keep the smile off her face and her mother zips up her dress and ties her mask behind her head. 

Cas gets to the school early and helps set up the ticket collection table. She greets students as they arrive and shows them into the gymnasium. She checks on the photographers and the refreshments table a few times, satisfied that everything is going smoothly.

The only thing wrong is that it’s been an hour an there’s been so sign of Deanna. 

Charlie and Gilda show up fashionably late as per usual. Gilda looks lovely in her gold dress and Charlie is as sharp as they come in a black suit. They remove their masks and speak with Cas for a moment.

“Have you heard from Deanna?” she can’t help but ask.

“Not since this morning,” Charlie says. “She was freaking out about what to do with her hair.”

“She isn’t here yet?” Gilda asks.

Cas shakes her head.

“I’m sure she’ll be here,” Charlie consoles. “She’s not one to miss a good party. Hey, you gonna go meet that mystery person?”

In all this mess with Deanna the last few days, Cas had nearly forgotten about her promposal.

Gilda looks at the clock and grins. “Oh yeah! It’s almost nine, Cas!”

Cas frowns. “I don’t know. I just...”

Charlie touches her shoulder, drawing Cas’s attention. Her expression is soft but there’s something almost pleading in her eyes. “You should go, Cas. Trust me.”

Cas squints but before she can ask anything Charlie and Gilda sweep into the gym. 

Cas watches the clock for the next few minutes, stomach in turmoil. Still no sign of Deanna and if she’s going to go then she needs to do it now.

“Oh fuck it,” she says under her breath.

She excuses herself from the table and makes her way outside and across the parking lot.

Meet me at nine where feet become the thunder.

It wasn’t the hard to figure out. She still remembers the first time she attended one of Deanna’s soccer games and how the crowd had stomped on the bleachers, building a roar that vibrated through her body. 

Deanna had made two goals that night and when they’d met up afterward, Deanna still in her uniform which was clinging to her everywhere it could and her eyes still bright with victory and adrenaline, she told Cas how she loved knowing Cas was there, part of the thunder. Cas has hardly missed a game since.

She stands under the bleachers now, waiting for a noise to signal someone else is here. It’s silent for several minutes, just the soft echo of the music coming from the gym.

Then she hears a creek above her and something like a sigh. The metal of the bleachers shakes with footsteps going the opposite direction. Like they’re leaving.

Summoning all of her courage with one breath, Cas climbs the stairs.

“Hey!”

The body moving away freezes. Cas frowns at their figure and takes a few tentative steps toward them. She thinks she can make out light hair and the person is obviously in a suit but they’re very small for a man.

The figure turns around. They’re of course wearing a mask, dark maroon like their suit and they start to come closer and Cas is shocked to find that this is definitely not a man.

“Deanna?”

They freeze. And then remove their masks and the most familiar face looks at Cas bewildered. “How did you know it was me?”

“You really didn’t think I would recognize your legs?” Cas asks as fury floods through her. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Uh, I told you to meet me here.”

“No, this is where I’m supposed to meet the mystery person.”

Deanna crosses the remaining yards between them and smiles. “Yeah, I know.”

Cas sputters, confused and a little hurt. Was this a prank after all? But instead of some random asshole, it’s her best friend? Oh god, and all week she’d been telling Deanna how scared she was when this whole time-

Deanna takes her hand before Cas can finish the thought and shakes her head. “No, Cas. It’s not a prank.”

“But you-you had a special person and I-I-”

“You are the special person, dummy.” Deanna takes her other hand and squeezes them both between them. “You’re the one I wanted to ask to prom.”

Cas’s head is spinning and her heart feels like it’s trying to beat out of her chest. “You- this- I’m not- but... but why?” she finally gets out.

Deanna snorts a laugh and rolls her eyes, but when she refocuses on Cas everything about the way she looks at her friend is soft and reverent. “Because I love you.”

Cas can’t respond to that, her throat closing up as she just takes in the words and lets her body expand with them. It’s like blacking out for a moment and when she comes to her eyes are burning.

Deanna brings their hands up and her fingers sweep gently across Cas’s cheeks and Cas registers the wetness. 

“I don’t-” she starts with a gasp, “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Deanna says gently. “I just want you to finally know. That I love you. More than anything I ever thought I could love. And I want to take you to the dance. If you’ll have me.”

Cas squeezes Deanna’s hands and makes herself look into her eyes. She looks close to crying too and Cas’s throat constricts again and she ponders how the happiest moment of her life can come with so much physical pain.

“I love you too,” she says, maybe a little too loud considering how close they are, but her body won’t let her announce it any other way. “I love you. For so long. And I-I’m-”

It’s like she’s trying to say too many words at once so she decides to just let her heart speak for her instead and she leans forward and presses her lips to Deanna’s.

The kiss is shaky and tastes kind of salty. But Deanna returns it with just as much care, releasing Cas’s hands to wrap around her waist and hold her close. 

Neither can say how long the kiss carried on but eventually they come up or air, resting their foreheads together. Cas’s hands clutch at the lapels of Deanna’s suit jacket and she grins when she sees the lipstick smeared around Deanna’s mouth. She brings her thumb up to wipe it away and Deanna grins, making Cas laugh. 

“This feels like a dream,” Cas whispers.

“Feels better than that to me,” Deanna murmurs back. She pecks Cas on the lips and looks over toward the school. “We should probably go to the dance now before everything shuts down.”

Cas nods and releases Deanna’s suit. She lets her hands run down the front though, finally taking a good look at her friend. It fits her perfectly, the jacket stopping mid-hip and the pants slimming so they’re tight at her ankles. 

“Are you wearing heels?”

Deanna grins and takes a few steps back to give Cas the full affect. “Hell yeah, don’t they make my legs look great?”

Cas can’t disagree as she lets her eyes roam freely.

“I could say the same to you, sweetheart,” Deanna says, and Cas looks up to see Deanna studying her in the same appreciative fashion. 

Cas’s face feels hot but instead of hiding it she reaches for Deanna’s hand and gives a gentle pull. “Come on. I want to go show you off.”

“Oh, hell yes,” Deanna growls and follows.

To say they’re the talk of the night is an understatement. The second they enter the gym with their hands clasped together, the murmurs start up. And when they walk onto the balcony Deanna built to have their photo taken, they can feel the eyes on them, watching closely. Deanna has a sneaky smile that Cas finds questionable and she starts to say something when Deanna puts an arm around her waist and dips her, lips coming together. And it’s not shaky this time.

She comes to to the sound of applause and it mortified to find her classmates clapping for them. Deanna laughs and tightens her hold. “I guess we weren’t the only ones waiting for us to get our shit together,” she says in Cas’s ear.

They move to the dance floor and it feels perfectly natural for Cas to take Deanna into her arms and sway. They hug, they kiss, they whisper, and they laugh, and everything around them falls away until it feels like it’s just the two of them dancing in the center of the universe.