#terrifying when a guy got mad at us though in this fancy history place where i had considered working before

[anxiousmoodlet]

𝕎𝕪𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕟 𝔹𝕦𝕣𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕤 for @eeriesims‘ The Many Suitors of One Clary Wiggins

The world isn’t kind to demons. Wyvern grew up being called all sorts of names: Devil-spawn, son of Hell, Infernal fiend, the fruit of Lilith’s rotten womb... you know, the usual stuff. Only his mother possessed horns and leathery wings however, his father was perfectly human. A Daughter of Torment wandered free from the bowels of Hell, so that little Wyvern might be born upon the shores of Glimmerbrook. Though his mother now frequents Eternal Damnation more than she does the Living Realm, and his father is nowhere to be seen, Wyvern has done all he can to build and maintain a life in the only place he’s ever known.

Read more for Wyvern’s full biography!

ℕ𝕒𝕞𝕖: Wyvern Burroughs 𝔹𝕚𝕣𝕥𝕙𝕕𝕒𝕪/𝔸𝕘𝕖: 18/10/1991 — 28 years old 𝕊𝕡𝕖𝕔𝕚𝕖𝕤: Demonspawn (he’s essentially a tiefling ok) ℍ𝕖𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥: 6′1  𝕊𝕖𝕩𝕦𝕒𝕝 𝕆𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟: Pansexual 𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣/ℙ𝕣𝕠𝕟𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕤: Male — He/him 𝕆𝕔𝕔𝕦𝕡𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕚𝕟 𝔾𝕝𝕚𝕞𝕞𝕖𝕣𝕓𝕣𝕠𝕠𝕜: GBPD Detective

ℕ𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕟𝕒𝕞𝕖𝕤:

𝕎𝕪𝕝𝕚𝕖 — A shortened version of Wyvern he adopted very early on, introduces himself as this.

𝕃𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖 𝕎𝕪𝕣𝕞 — His mother’s pet name for him.

𝔻𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝔻. — Stands for “Devil Detective”, his GBPD partner calls him this.

𝔽𝕦𝕟 𝕃𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖 𝕋𝕚𝕕𝕓𝕚𝕥𝕤:

1. “No one can ever know I play the violin, all right?” — Wyvern plays the violin. In fact, he plays the violin quite well. His mother always had a fondness for human music, it was one of the only aspects of their culture she could appreciate. After trialling piano, guitar, and a brief stint with the harp, Wyvern stuck with the violin and took lessons at his mother’s behest well in to his late teens. He still plays sometimes, it’s very melancholy when he does.

2. “I promise, I’m not as scary as I look.” — Wyvern starts almost every conversation with the “Demon Disclaimer,” a spiel about how he isn’t going to devour your soul or curse you for eternity. Even in Glimmerbrook, where supernatural creatures are abundant, he likes to make sure. It’s also one of the reasons he decided to join the police force, so that he could be seen to be doing good. It took a long time to earn that trust and the badge that came with it though, he had the longest officer internship of anyone in GBPD’s history.

3. “There’s no way I’m missing the midnight viewing.” — Wyvern is a bit of a huge movie nerd. He’ll watch any genre so long as it’s well-written and creatively shot, but his favourites lie with 80′s horror classics and cheesy 90′s car chase scenes. He’s also been known to enjoy the odd romantic-comedy when the mood strikes him, but will boast that he can predict them scene-for-scene. That being said, the ending of La La Land made him cry like a little bitch. Didn’t see that one coming, huh Wylie?   

4. “There’s a line where the sea meets the sky, it calls me— I’m joking.” — Cheesy Moana reference aside, Wyvern has a bad case of wanderlust. He’s been in Glimmerbrook all his life, and he’s always wanted to see more of the world... but why leave the place you’ve worked so hard to make your home? He's terrified of being met with rejection if he were to so much as dip his toes in adventure. A demonspawn can’t just stroll down any old street, or so he believes. His self-doubt is quiet, but boy oh boy, it’s real.

5. “Just five more minutes, okay?” — Wyvern loves nothing more than his bed. He has to set at least five alarms to get up in the morning, just so he can snooze them all and then leap out of bed with ten minutes to spare. He’s been known to doze at his desk in the precinct on quiet days, and sleep well in to the late afternoon on his days off. Attempts to instil healthier habits with morning jogs, fridge planners and social outings have all done little to help him.  

6. “No, no. It’s not me that you want.”— Wyvern has had very limited romantic interactions throughout his life. Well, he’s had very limited meaningful romantic interactions. Though the man’s not shy of the old Netflix and chill by any stretch of the imagination, he more-often-than-not never lets anything progress past that point. That fear of rejection kicks in every single time: who could love a demonspawn? He’s had one serious relationship in the past, and it ended with him breaking it off when things were getting too real.

7. “Hey, I got us a round of tequila!”— Maybe it’s the demonic genes, but Wyvern can drink. As much as he enjoys a cold pint with his partner after work, he also enjoys slamming back Sambuca shots and ending the night asleep on the beach. He’s an incredibly volatile drunk. Fiercely protective of his social group, but also quick to misunderstand the conversation and take offence. Any issues are usually remedied with hugs and drawling “I love you guys.” 

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕀𝕞𝕡𝕠𝕣𝕥𝕒𝕟𝕥 ℚ𝕦𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤

➊ ℍ𝕠𝕨 𝕕𝕚𝕕 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕞𝕖𝕖𝕥 ℂ𝕝𝕒𝕣𝕪? “Oh, it was really lame. We were in the general store, and she did that thing, you know. She was in front of me in the queue, but I only had a coffee to pay for, and she had a whole bunch of stuff... so, she let me go first. Real sweet of her. We talked about the weather a little, she said my coffee smelt good. I remember, she said it was a little too late in the day for her to be having coffee, but she really fancied one now. I've never wanted to give up my coffee to someone more than I did then.”

➋ 𝕎𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕤𝕥 𝕚𝕞𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕠𝕗 ℂ𝕝𝕒𝕣𝕪? “She was like a breeze, you know? I forgot I had horns and yellow eyes for a second. Her hair was kind of messy like she’d had a busy afternoon, and there were loads of fresh fruit in her shopping cart, she was like this slice of wholesome. Normally new people in Glimmerbrook terrify me, but not her.”  

➌ 𝕎𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕚𝕤 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕚𝕕𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕕𝕒𝕥𝕖? “I like doing something a little silly, because I think if you can’t be silly with someone, then you’re doomed. Karaoke is my favourite first date — we don’t even have to go up and sing! But just in that easy-going environment, having a laugh, shouting over the tone-deaf performers because we'd rather fight the music than not have a conversation, you know?”

➍ 𝕎𝕙𝕒𝕥'𝕤 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕚𝕕𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕣𝕖𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕡? “Effortlessness. I know that sounds daft, because all good things need to be worked for, and all that jazz... but I think my ideal relationship would be something so natural and easy, that we forget we have to work at it even when times get tough. Just having someone to reach— equilibrium with, you know? I know it takes time to get to that point, but I just want to know that it’s possible. It would be so worth waiting for.”

“Bonus points for someone who doesn’t mind kicking my ass out of bed in the morning.”

➎ 𝕎𝕙𝕒𝕥'𝕤 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕠𝕟𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕪 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖? “Oh boy, all right. I have some serious trust issues, but not for lack of trying to resolve them. I can’t help but view everybody around me with a sort of air of uncertainty, and I suppose that makes me come off a little standoffish. It’s just that I so badly want people to have a positive opinion of me, that I spend the majority of my time being terrified that they don’t. I swear, I’m going to drive myself mad with it one day.”

“I’ve been told I use humour as a defence mechanism. Whenever the conversation is stilted, or I sense any kind of awkwardness: I’ll crack a joke. If someone asks me a serious question, or how I am: I’ll crack a joke. It’s second-nature at this point, and I swear it’s stemmed from wanting to make people smile. It also helps with the whole detective shtick, but that’s besides the point.”

“I loosen up around friends though, it’s not all so dreary! I still like to think I’m the sharp-witted, funny one, but it becomes less deflective. I’m also really protective of the people I love, foaming-at-the-mouth-crazy sort of protective. I know, it’s not everyone’s cup of tea... but there aren’t very many people who are willing to let me be that close to them, and there’s no way I’m going to let anything hurt those people.”

[axther]

(1/2) Ghost Anon: May I get a bnha matchup? I’m Vicente, a 4’11” pan trans-guy, who’s 18 years old and in college for art! I adore cats, halloween, video games, & death metal! My MBTI is INFP-T! I have trouble befriending others irl because I’m MAD standoffish & have an abrasive personality but for those I‘m close to I do whatever I can to cheer em up when they’re down! I have history with martial arts (abt 5/6 years) I LOVE sparring and get a thrill from fakin people out and landin a solid hit!

fuckkkk I’m sorry this is late… I am one (1) dumbass. Also under the cut for length bc I kept on deleting it and starting over and before I knew it the first matchup was four pages long (in the end it was 9 pages long)

#1 is…Tamaki! 

Okay so!!! 

We all know that Tamaki freaks out easily 

And let’s say there’s a meetup for young, promising students

Mirio and Neijre are thriving 

But Tamaki is stuck in a corner trying to not get noticed

 He’s panicking 

And then he sees you from across the room 

You look pissed as all hell 

Crossing your arms and watching three other students brag about their exploits 

He notices that you look like your gradually getting more and more annoyed 

Eventually, you huff and walk away, and Tamaki realises that you’ve got something perched on your shoulder

 He takes a bit of a look and sees that it’s a skeletal cat, walking back and forth and clearly agitated. 

You sit on a chair at one of the semi-fancy, plastic tablecloth tables, about two feet away from Tamaki 

He’s clearly ‘??’ and nervous as hell that he pissed you off

until you start talking 

‘What’re you doin’?’ 

Tamaki’s confused as all get out 

And it’s clear that he’s promptly terrified 

Until you glance at him out of the corner of your eyes 

And the cat is staring at him with hollow eye sockets, tilting its head 

And you say ‘You look lonely.’ 

Tamaki flushes bright red 

You noticed him??? 

Did he do something obvious? 

Was he pissing you off?

Did lonely people piss you off?

Did he make you feel bad???

You shrug at his silence, and though he can’t see it, you’re kinda hurt 

It’s not like you want to actually scare anybody (besides villains). 

So imagine your surprise when he manages to pipe up 

‘Wh-wh-what’s your…quirk…?’ 

It’s less than a whisper, but you catch it, and you look over with a raised eyebrow 

‘Death.’ You look away. ‘Psychopomp. Angel of Death. Grim Reaper. Whatever you wan’ to call it.’ 

Tamaki baulks 

He didn’t even know that quirks that severe existed

You’re kinda staring in the opposite direction and he can tell that his silence is definitely not helping 

But he’s almost in awe 

He’s heard of people with quirks like Wendigo, Reanimation, and Bodily Manipulation that had to be shelved away lest something happen and they use their quirks for evil

So he’s a bit confused as to why you’re allowed out and about 

But he’s most curious 

In fact, he’s very very curious

So he blinks up at you and takes a big gulp and closes his eyes tight 

‘Th…that’s cool…’ 

He did it!! 

Internally he’s celebrating like crazy because he managed to get it going!! 

He’s got this!! 

But then you just frown and look a bit angrier 

So then it all comes to a stop in Tamaki’s head 

And he eyes the cat, who’s nuzzling your neck 

And Tamaki decides to shoot his shot 

‘Who’s…the cat?’ 

You look back at him, clearly surprised 

You figured that your quirk scared him, with how he looked ready to die himself when he said it was cool, so you’re a bit confused. 

‘Custos. M’ familiar.’ 

Tamaki is definitely more curious now 

He wasn’t sure what to ask next 

But then Custos jumped from your shoulder 

You two are staring at Custos, kneading Tamaki’s lap

The shoujo gods are watching over you, really

 But then you look away again with a blush and a mumble of ‘I guess she likes you.’ 

Tamaki’s playing with her funny paws 

And there’s a second where he messes with it wrong, and the paw turns sideways, and then claws just appear out of nowhere until he fixes it again 

He’s talking to Custos and having a grand old time 

When you get out of the chair and plop down next to Tamaki 

And Tamaki’s starting to freak out again 

Did it seem like he was ignoring you? 

Was he being rude? 

He didn’t know what you were doing when you plucked Custos out of Tamaki’s hands until you murmured ’watch this!’ 

Then you  s t r e t c h  Custos 

She’s mewing happily, clearly enjoying it 

But Tamaki can see Custos’ spine literally separating, like a weird accordion 

You stop, and laugh when Custos bounces left and right, trying to get you to do it again 

And you nudge Tamaki, and he’s in awe

’It’s like givin’ her a kitty deep massage.’ 

Tamaki nods mutely, a little blush on his face 

Through this, you two develop a full-blown conversation 

And it’s going great! 

Tamaki’s genuinely surprised 

But then he hears muffled squealing 

And at first, he’s ’???’ 

But then he looks over to his right to see Neijre smothering her own cheer

And Mirio’s got a big ol’ grin and he’s giving a thumbs up 

Tamaki’s ready to EXPLODE 

But then you call his name 

And he jumps again but looks at you this time 

And you follow his original line of sight 

And almost immediately, you reserve yourself again 

Tamaki realises that the pissed-off demeanour was a reflex

You look at him, clearly taken off guard, and go ’Huh?’ 

Tamaki realises that he said it out loud, and smacks a hand to his mouth 

You both look shocked 

Tamaki’s sure that he’s messed up the entire thing and that you’re never going to want to talk to him again 

But then you give a bit of a sad smile before nodding 

’Yeah, I guess.’ 

Tamaki’s heart breaks at the tone of your voice 

He feels a weight in his stomach 

Custos begins rubbing herself across your face and purring, trying to comfort you 

And before Tamaki’s anxiety can catch up, he’s got his phone out and has yours so you two can exchange numbers 

He doesn’t have time to think over it or regret it before Fat Gum shows up for him so he and a couple of other students can train together 

And a different hero, with spikes and hair that hung in their face, shows up for you with several other goth-themed students in tow 

It’s later that night that he thinks back to it all, and he’s covering his face, bright red, and rolling left and right. 

Then, like a death bell, his phone goes off 

He stops rolling and just stares at the contact ’Vincente + Custos’ 

And he’s shaking and hyping himself up and nearly drops his phone three times and he’s near tears 

But he answers with a shaky ’H-Hello?’ 

And he hears Custos mewing a bit 

And then you 

’Hey. Tamaki, right? From the Elites Meetup?’ 

Tamaki takes a deep as fuck breath before speaking again 

’Yes?’ 

Yeah, it sounds like a question, but he’s nervous!! 

And he hears a sigh of relief 

’Cool! This is, uh, V. Vincente.’ 

There’s another moment of silence until you speak up again 

’But I can be whoever you want?’ 

This, too, is a question, but Tamaki doesn’t worry about that 

He hears someone’s vaguely cheering you on (it sounded like a sixteen-year-old, maybe?) 

But his face erupts in red 

’I-Well, that’s…I…’ 

Tamaki can’t really respond 

He’s too busy thinking ’?????!??!??! He’s into me?!??!??!’ 

You kinda sigh, and then say ’Sorry, that was kinda…’ 

And Tamaki starts stammering more over the phone 

It was a bit hard to decipher, but it was something along the line of ’it’s okay’ and ’are you free’ 

(yes, you made sure you were definitely free.) 

#2 is…Bakugou! 

We know this mf does not do anything half-assed 

So when you two are paired together for sparring 

He’s expecting you to have a quirk like Tokoyami’s, where light and darkness are important factors

So he goes blazing in, expecting the light from his explosions to be too much

But you’re just standing there, the fuckin’ cat on your shoulder and looking unbothered! 

It’s pissing him off! 

But then he feels something grab onto his foot 

And he looks down

And he doesn’t know how to describe it 

But it looks like a mix of a big, ripped out fetus and a malnourished child with huge, empty eyesockets and wrinkly, paper white skin and arms that didn’t fit its body 

(look up the messengers from Bloodborne, it’ll make more sense) 

And it’s quietly groaning while holding onto his ankle

And Bakugou tries ripping it off of him

But then another appears

And more and more until there’s a whole crowd around him 

’What the fuck is this?’ He can’t get them off, because, with every one that he shoots off, three takes its place 

And then, at once, they all start dragging him down 

’Hey! You goth fuck! What the fuck are you doing?!’ 

Yet the entire time, you’re unbothered 

And he’s trying to wade out of the tide that pulls him in

And it’s consuming him whole

The ground isn’t the limit anymore, he realises, and he starts panicking 

He’s blasting left and right 

But then he lets out one final yell, and he’s gone 

No one knows where

People have stopped to look, and your teacher gives you a stern look.

‘Bring him back, V.’ 

You only glance his way for a moment before, a couple of yards behind you, Bakugou is spat out 

He’s panting and sweating and looks like he saw hell itself 

You turn your head slightly to look at him, not even bother to uncross your arms. 

And when he looks at you he can only keep eye contact for a moment before lowering his head 

Very very quickly word goes around school

That the dark horse V took down the rowdy rude Bakugou that won the Sports Festival

Bakugou has rarely felt so humiliated 

So he approaches you later that day demanding a rematch

He’s gotten a better grasp of what your quirk is, so he’s certain he can take you on 

But all you do is shrug. 

This! Pisses! Bakugou! Off!!

‘Then no quirks, fucker. You and me and nothing else.’ 

Again, you shrug, and the cat on your shoulder hops of and perches on a nearby open window

Again, Bakugou is sure that he can take you on

You don’t look buff, nor scrawny. You look…moderate? 

Certainly like you wouldn’t blow away in the wind, but that you were more of a cuddler than a fighter 

So when he goes full offensive, he sees you start to lift your right leg and he’s all over it 

He’s thinking ‘dumbass!’ and goes to grab your leg when you switch in mid-air and clock him over the neck with your knee 

You let him get back up

But the rest of the fight he’s getting no mercy 

And he’s completely taken off guard

By the end of it 

He’s beaten and bruised 

Though you’re only a bit better off yourself

He’s pretty sure that some students watched in the middle of it but left near the end 

But either way, he’s been lowkey humbled

He’d never admit it, of course

But he now knows that he can’t underestimate you anymore 

When he takes a second too long to get up, you offer a hand 

And he nearly knocks it away when he looks up at you

And into your eyes

And he realises that it’s you putting yourself out there

You never really talked to anybody, at all

So he takes it 

‘It’s not me being nice’, he tells himself. 

It’s him just taking what is offered 

And he stands up and he’s taller than you 

And when he looks down he notices that hey

You’re kinda cute

So when the silence consumes you both he takes a hand to the back of his head and shoves a hand into his pockets 

‘I, uh…you’re better than I fuckin’ thought. You wanna…eat out sometime?’ 

Your face softens, ever so slightly, and if he squints hard enough he sees you smiling 

(though he would never admit it, he was whipped from there on out.)

#3 is…Midoriya!

When you first meet him he’s absolutely enamoured with your quirk 

It started with Custos 

And then when you started explaining the basics of your quirk 

He’s completely fanboying 

‘Oh my gosh, I didn’t know that quirks could have capabilities like that! To think that you can call on the armies of the dead…that’s incredible! Could I ask more?’ 

He’s a bit like Tamaki, but on a chiller level 

He ends up filling roughly half a notebook on you over the course of the train ride that you two met on 

And he realises that he probably hasn’t even scratched the surface of it 

So he demands (politely) that you guys exchange numbers 

You mention offhand that you don’t have too many friends because of how stand-off-ish you act 

And midoriya rises to the occasion! 

‘I’ll be your friend! Don’t worry! Actually, I have a voucher for some good katsudon at a stand down the road from my house, and it’s the next stop, would you want to come? Not that you have to! It’s just that I really wanna solidify our new friendship, and-’

‘Sure. I’ve got nothin’ better to do.’ 

Midoriya is ready to fly out of his seat with how happy he is!! 

He’s still not terribly used to having a ton of friends, so the fact that he’s expanding his circle, even more, makes him super happy!

You two go to the katsudon stand and Midoriya’s semi-swarmed by a group of old ladies that his mom takes yoga classes with 

And they’re pinching your cheeks with a feel of ‘Oh!! Izuku-Kun is this your friend! Is he your boyfriend? Oh, you two look very cute together! Don’t forget to eat well, Izuku’s friend! Please keep him safe and well!’ 

And to be honest, Midoriya’s not expecting you to take it all too well

He’s ready to shoo them away 

When you just give a really soft, sparkly, anime shoujo smile and take their hand 

‘I will, ma’am. You ca’ count on me.’ 

And Midoriya kinda stares in awe for a moment before one of the shrewder ladies nudges him in the side with a 😏

He’s like ‘!!! I-I-I-I-I-I just met him today! It’s not like that!’ 

And he’s flailing his arms and bright red and the lady is like ‘Uh-huh, sure, that’s what I said about my fourth husband’ 

Either way, the old ladies leave with a call for Midoriya to ask his mother to bring her soba recipe to yoga next Thursday

And he accepts while trying to drag you away from them because the last thing he needs is for the entire neighbourhood to try and be his wingman

So he’s talking with you about your quirk while eating and you two eventually branch of about anything and everything 

And by the time it’s dark Midoriya feels like he’s known you his entire life 

You decide to head out before it gets any darker and he waves as you leave 

He’s got a blush on his face and a lopsided grin 

Because you know what!!

You��re fuckin cute!! And smart, and funny, but you knew when to hold your tongue, and you’ve got a really cool cat, and he thinks that you’re really sweet, and…

And almost immediately, once you’re out of earshot, the chef leans over 

“Your boyfriend, huh?’ 

‘Aughhhh!’ 

@v0mpy

[caffeineivore]

Commission #2

For @nelwynp. Based off a very very old ficverse from wayyyyyyy back in the day called “Freckles” which may or may not be found on LJ. Makoto/Nephrite.

Commissions are still open!! Check out the details here or all the other commissions currently available here!

Long distance relationships are statistically known to suck, and honestly, I wouldn’t have considered myself the rose-coloured glasses type. The real world doesn’t care that you’ve probably, maybe, already gotten your share of crap thrown at you, starting from the death of your parents, and think maybe it should cut you a break. I knew the chances of Nick and myself making it were slim. He would be busy, surrounded by strangers a whole two states away. Sure, we’d known each other since we were kids, and maybe by now, he had become the one constant in my life-- my North Star, perhaps-- that forever friend who’d seen me at my worst and didn’t care in the least. And maybe--- maybe, finally, I’d finally told him those three words that had been nagging at the back of my subconscious for the last year of our acquaintance. He’d said them back, and it was only then that I realized how much I’d needed to hear and say them.

Still, I saw him off on that cloudy morning with dry eyes and homemade eggs Benedict-- that is to say, that I fed him and double-checked to make sure that he had not misplaced anything important. The apartment that he’d been living in was stripped bare, and all of his worldly goods were in the trailer of the U-haul which would take him to his new home. I was plugging his phone into the car charger in the front console when his arms wrapped around me from behind, and turned me to face him. 

Nick has always been a good-looking guy, in that sort of rugged, All-American way, with broad shoulders and a great smile, and I’d learned at some point in our long acquaintance that he gave the best hugs-- the type that lifts you slightly off your feet and makes you feel like some type of dainty damsel even when you’re six feet tall in heeled boots. It’s no different now, and maybe I hung on for a moment too long, myself. He’s not much of a cologne guy, but his sweatshirt smells like laundry soap and I’m pretty sure he’d used my shampoo that morning again, because his hair’s super soft-- and the flowery scent is not nearly as girly on him as it is on me. 

“Call me when you get there.” I hope to Hell, of course, that the fact that my voice is muffled against his neck disguises the unsteadiness.

“I’ll call you every day.”

I wouldn’t hold him to it, of course, but I didn’t say anything to that effect, and I watched as he drove off, and then headed off to the gym for a punishing three-mile run on the treadmill followed by a full hour of kickboxing to a playlist of angry girl rock, and if I cried in the shower afterwards, no one needed to know that.

He did call that night, though. And the night after. And the night after that. And soon, it had become a routine, and maybe I should have given him more credit the whole time. Before I knew it, two months had passed, and he flew down for a long holiday weekend, and after we’d christened three separate rooms in my apartment, we got caught up in person. I’d heard so much about his new place and the people he’d met at his new school that I probably could’ve picked his favourite and least favourite professors out of a crowd. 

This became a thing, and so for two years, we did the long distance thing. He heard about the awful day when the stand mixer went rogue and how I was still picking bits of cake batter out of my hair two hours later. I heard so much about one particularly persnickety city inspector on a project he worked on that I learned to hate the guy as much as Nick did. Our reunions were sporadic, rapturous and never long enough, though half the time we eschewed actual dates in favour of staying in and just being ourselves together-- watching movies, working out, buying groceries and cooking meals, falling asleep so close together that it was hard to tell where one of us ended and the other one began. 

We spent that first Thanksgiving at my place-- Friendsgiving, really, cooking a huge meal in a too-small kitchen, inviting all of our old friends. I shooed Nick and James out of my kitchen and chatted with Raye as she snapped a bowl of green beans for me and sounds of the football game filtered in through the living room. She was a ball of nerves-- James would be meeting her very formidable, very rich, very conservative father when he went over to her home for Christmas. Said father would not be amused to find his only daughter not only dating, but actually fully living in sin with a mouthy city boy-- when Nick had moved out, James and Raye had gotten an apartment together. Amy and Zach had arrived a bit later, because he’d had to pick her up from the hospital where her shift had run over. Kevin and Mina, on the other hand, were at her parents’ house out of state. She’d texted me all types of sad face emojis about how the cranberry sauce had come out of a can and the mashed potatoes had come out of a box, but I had no sympathy. She had parents who cooked for her for Thanksgiving, didn’t she? Besides, if she really cared about food over time spent with them and Kevin, she would have told them that she had Ebola and came over to my place instead.

At any rate, against all the odds, we somehow managed to make it work, and two years, three months and six days after that first time that I told him I loved him, he was on his way down to visit again. I’d gone up to see him get his Master’s degree two months ago and he’d taken me out around the town to celebrate with his friends and classmates. Some of them had met me before, but to those who hadn’t, he introduced me as his girlfriend, and from the easy acceptance, I knew that everyone present had some idea of our history. It had been a wonderful weekend, but I was a bit nervous about seeing him again today. Something had come up, very recently, and I wasn’t sure how he would take it.

At first, I had thought nothing of the symptoms. Fatigue and a bit of nausea doesn’t tend to alarm anyone right off the get-go. Everyone knows restaurant hours are brutal, and as an apprentice chef, any task, no matter how mundane or unpleasant, might get assigned to me on any given day. Certainly, I might get to spend one day arranging delicate edible flowers and a compote of ripe berries around and on top of fancy panna cottas, but the very next, I might be doing nothing but washing dishes and running out garbage. The kitchen I work in specializes in a rotating seasonal menu, and at the time, calamari was in season. Certainly it is delicious deep-fried with casino butter and lemon wedges, sprinkled with sea salt and cracked black pepper, but it’s definitely not as appealing raw, slimy and fishy-smelling. It’s enough to make anyone lose their appetite doing prep early in the morning. But then I was late. And not to work, if you know what I mean. One week stretched into two, then three. The nausea didn’t go away, even when my day consisted of making large quantities of bourbon vanilla buttercream frosting for strawberry white chocolate cakes. It was a week ago that I picked up two different pregnancy tests from Walgreen’s. Both results had come back to tell me what I kind of already knew, deep down, and I was honestly terrified down to the bone.

I had always wanted to have that maybe-stereotypical home and family someday-- the cute house with gingerbread trim and the white picket fence and the garden full of old-fashioned flowers, a husband who loved me and our children and went to baseball games and dance recitals with equal enthusiasm. I wanted to be able to be the mom who baked cupcakes for the bake sale and cookies for the big jar on the kitchen counter, and volunteered to chaperone field trips to the science museum. That had been my own mother, from those distant reaches of old memories, and though I’d lost her, I knew that it was in me to keep her legacy alive. 

But I had not intended to do so when I had just started my career, unmarried and still living in a tiny college-campus apartment, with a boyfriend who lives two states away, who might not even want kids. God! That was a discussion we’d never even had. 

The door swings open, though, before I could think about it any more. Nick has a key to my place, of course, as I do to his. Sometimes he calls, but sometimes he just arrives, like today, a little ahead of schedule. I’m caught up in one of those long, tight hugs, a warm and familiar hand cupping the back of my neck, and maybe he feels a hint of desperation in my kiss. When he pulls back, his eyes are warm, but full of concern. “Everything okay, Freckles?”

“Ugh. Can you not call me that? We’ve talked about that.” Oh, Gods... A baby with his brown hair and my green eyes. His dimples and my freckles. I can almost picture a little girl, toddling on chubby legs, riding on his shoulders, picking dandelions in the yard and blowing the fluff away in the wind. I’d teach her to bake chocolate chip cookies and read her stories where the princess saved herself and buy her pretty dresses for picture day and sturdy jeans for playing outside in. I loved her already, but she wasn’t supposed to even exist. 

“Habit. And you scrunch your nose up when you’re mad, and I shouldn’t like it, but I do.” Nick presses another, shorter kiss to my mouth, then tips up my face. “But you seem a bit out of sorts. What’s wrong?”

“How could you tell if I’m out of sorts or not when you literally just walked in two minutes ago?” It’s an evasion, and I’m sure he can and will spot the bullshit and call me out on it. 

“Because I’ve known you since we were kids, and you don’t have to say or do anything for me to know when you’re out of sorts.” Nick pulls me gently over to the love seat, and sits me down, keeping one of my hands in his as though he expects me to bolt at any moment. “Everything’s okay, right? You didn’t have anything particularly horrible at work this week that I recall from our conversations.”

No, this week hadn’t been bad. Breaking down chickens is fairly mindless work once you get the hang of it. And the resulting bone broth is wonderful for someone who finds it difficult to keep food down some days. Nick deserves the truth, of course, and maybe the ripping-off-the-bandaid approach is best. I shut my eyes to his all-too-perceptive, all-too-loving gaze, and set my teeth.

“I’m pregnant.”

His hand tightens on mine and his next inhaled breath is sharp, but I plow on. “I know it’s not expected, and I know we were careful, but… it is what it is. You don’t have to worry, though. I’m not some delicate little miss who’s afraid of raising a child. The executive chef at work loves me, as he should, and I’m sure they’ll work with me when the time comes for maternity leave. And in this day and age, it’s not a big deal to be a single mom. I’m keeping this baby and she’s going to get the best life that I can give her, growing up.” I don’t know why I was so certain I was having a little girl. But she already existed, to me, and at that moment in time, she was probably only the size of my pinkie nail. “She will never doubt, for a moment, that she’s loved.”

“Of course not.” Nick finally speaks, and his voice is an awed, slightly choked-up whisper. I sense him moving, then one big, warm hand rests on my still-flat stomach, followed by the press of his lips. “We’re having a baby. Wow. Okay, so I guess I should get on with what I’d already planned to do, even though I’d planned for this to be a lot more romantic.” Belatedly, I realize that not only has he moved, but he is down on his knees in front of me, one hand on my stomach, the other one digging into a pocket, and then he pulls out a small black velvet box, flicks open the catch.

I’m not much of a jewelry type of girl-- I wear the same earrings, every single day, but working in a kitchen greatly limits the practicality of going around with bracelets and rings and do-dabs. Still, stereotypical though it might be, I’d always wanted that classic diamond solitaire engagement ring from my husband-to-be, and now, when it’s staring me in the face-- princess-cut and set in platinum, I find myself speechless. 

“Lita Oakley, love of my life, will you marry me?”

Of course he doesn’t mince words. In a lot of ways, I guess we’re past that point. But I draw my hand back a moment before he can slide that ring on. 

“I don’t want you to propose to me because I’m pregnant and you feel obligated. You’d end up regretting it, and that would kill me.” We didn’t live together now, but if we did someday, and then it all went south, and I had to walk into an empty house bereft of his presence and his things and even the way he’d always kick his shoes off any which way by the door rather than make sure they’re put up where no one can trip over them, I knew it would break me in a way that hadn’t been possible since my parents’ deaths.

Nick rolls his eyes, though, and huffs out a breath before digging deeper into that little velvet box, all the way underneath the white satin. He takes out a crinkled paper receipt, and unfolds it, and drops it on my lap. “You are so stubborn. Do you know that? Take a look at that receipt, will you? Just… humour me.”

I do. It’s from some jeweler in his state, and the price of the ring of course makes me wince a little. It’s definitely not cheap. But then I read it a little closer, and see the time stamp on the top. It was purchased at 4:26 PM on the sixth of December, two whole years ago. Perhaps six months after he’d moved away.

“I got it as soon as I could afford it, and I’d been saving up for a while. Probably not very well-thought-out of me, when everything was so up in the air. But I’d always known that we’d be here together, someday, and I’d be asking you to marry me. Anyway, it’s got nothing to do with the fact that you’re pregnant and everything to do with the fact that I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember, and there’s no one else in the world for me, and it’s too late to return this ring, anyway.” He pulls it out of the box, and I see something shining, trailing from it. “I know you can’t really wear rings, working in a kitchen. So I also got a necklace that you can wear this on, if you’ll just say yes. Please say yes.”

“How are we going to do this?” I blurt out, as that other infamous symptom of pregnancy-- emotional hormonal tears-- makes its appearance. I blink and try to sniffle them away, but Nick simply puts the ring on my finger, silvery necklace dangling from it, and gets up to his feet, pulls me gently to mine. “You live so freaking far away.”

“Not anymore I don’t.” He tugs me close, and kisses me again. “My lease is up in a month. I figure I can get another U-haul, and con the guys into helping out. I’m pretty sure that the people can put a good word in for me to get hired in somewhere local-- dumb jock notwithstanding, I worked my ass off these last few years and have the credentials and grades to prove it. Since my lease is up in a month anyway, might as well look for a new place to live. Some place that can be baby-proofed, and definitely not a top floor apartment with a janky elevator like here. Can’t have my pregnant fiancee struggling up five flights of stairs every day.”

He makes it seem so simple, really, as he pulls me in for what promised to be an extended cuddle session. 

But maybe-- maybe it would be. 

[roastyoualive-archive]

Do you have headcanons about Warren and The Stronghold Support Group?

Headcanon Asks || Always Accepting

The SSG is my legacy here, and I love it.

But, alright, I’m going to give you a handful of headcanons about Warren and his unanticipated friends:

He is RIDICULOUSLY protective of them. Even if he can act prickly and standoffish to them, they’re his people. I mean, I’ll say it right now: Warren isn’t the kind of guy who gets into fights often. Think back to the scene in the detention room: He didn’t know it nullified powers. He’d never gotten detention before, so I’m assuming he’d never gotten into a fight at that school before, either. He was still a freshman at Sky High (according to his student ID card) - it was mostly his dad’s reputation that kept people away from him (And Baron had quite the reputation. … Not that Warren went out of his way to make friends.) So, there are a lot of factors that lead up to that fateful cafeteria fight with Will. Most of the time, if you leave Warren alone, give him his space, he’ll return the favour and completely ignore you. But, let me just say this: If, sometime after the movie’s canon, when they’ve all become solid friends, someone just-so-happened to trip, say, Ethan or Zach where Warren could see? (Ethan especially. Not sure why, but Warren’s extra-protective of him.) Cue Will or someone else having to physically restrain Warren from burning down the cafeteria again. Though, usually, him getting snarly is enough to make most people back down. I mean, this is the same guy who caused massive property destruction and almost killed (at least) one of his schoolmates within the first half of his first year because (from the point of view of everyone else) said schoolmate tripped by accident. I get the feeling people don’t want to push their luck with him. He uses it to his advantage, and damn straight he uses it to keep people off of the SSG’s collective backs. Team Guard Dog. 

He has never invited any of them over to his house, and he doesn’t plan on it. There’s really no way to put this delicately, so I’ll say it outright: The Peaces are barely making end’s meet. I can go more into detail about this later, but, for now, I’ll focus on how that affects their housing. They live in a squat and admittedly undesirable apartment complex in a not-so-nice part of Maxville. It was advertised as two-bedroom; Warren has his doubts if it was even meant to be one. He and his mom usually only have time to clean once a week (Sundays, usually), so it can get pretty disorganised. They never have enough food or space to entertain company (hell, they can barely feed themselves, and I’m sure Warren is used to skipping meals without telling his mom), and there’s nothing much to do there, unless you want to talk or read. He doesn’t want all that sympathy. The ‘oh man, it must suck to live here’. Yes, it does, thanks for pointing that out. The ‘oh, are you guys okay?’. Fine, leave it at that. And for the bonus round, there’s a lot of stuff there he wouldn’t want them to see, including potential bills and notices about being late on rent. Also included are family photos. The first seven years of which feature both of Warren’s parents. Yes, there are framed photographs of Baron Battle in the Peace family apartment. Sometimes there’s mail on the table from the maxsec prison. It’s all innocent enough, sure. But it’s not something Warren wants to be asked about, and he’s pretty sure people would ask. 

Building on that last one, it’s a bit awkward for him, going over to their houses, at first. Especially for those of them with Super parent(s). Hint, hint. He feels out of place enough in a nice, clean, fancy suburban house. He also feels out of place in a happy, nuclear family. If you combine that with the knowledge that the family knows who his dad is? He feels super uncomfortable. Feels like constant judgement is just a second away, if not going on right there. And there’s the constant pressure/fear, too, of the questions. What was your dad like? Do you remember anything about him? Do you ever talk to him? So on and so forth. He hates it. It took a while to get him to most peoples’ houses, but, the Stronghold household? That didn’t work well. Don’t get me wrong, while he’s still on edge around her, Warren thinks Josie is pretty nice. A bit overbearing, sometimes, but nice. (I had a few threads with a Josie, once. She gave Warren fresh cookies and kept trying to invite him over for dinner.) And, as the epilogue tells us, Will’s his best friend. But I’ll tell you right now, if Warren was at the Stronghold house and Steve walked in, it would take all of this boy’s willpower to avoid flaming up right there. He’s both terrified of and furious at the Commander, so that wouldn’t go over well. He’d try to be civil, though. For Will’s sake, as much as his own. (To be fair, I bet it’d be pretty uncomfortable for Steve, too.) ((When is someone going to give me the awkward Steve and Warren meeting we all need?)) He does eventually visit all of their houses, and some he finds himself relaxing more in than others, but it takes him a while to warm up to the idea. 

Okay, so I don’t know if this was a thing at anyone else’s schools, but my old high school used to have a set-up run by the yearbook club every year where groups could sign up and get their pictures taken and put somewhere in the book. And it was always just like, groups of friends, siblings, couples, etc - the organised teams got ‘formal’ and ‘official’ photos taken. I like to think that’s the context behind THIS photo right here. Someone (probably Layla) said, ‘hey, guys, let’s get a photo together in honour of our first year (in high school/as friends)!’ and Warren rolled his eyes and went back to whatever he was reading. It got quiet, and when he looked up, everyone was staring at him, and– Oh, wait, you were serious. So he begrudgingly agreed to it. (He won’t admit it, but that photo is the main reason he shelled out enough to get himself a year book.)

I like to think sometimes they all go have lunch/dinner/whatever at the Paper Lantern just to pester Warren at work. He’s busy often enough that it’s probably the easiest way to see him outside of school.

I also like to think that, if Warren and his mom were able to spend more time together, she’d teach him how to play guitar. Her grandfather (Warren’s great-grandfather) Peter taught her how when she was young as a way of dealing with stress. Very important for Supers, and elementals especially. So, all I can think of is the SSG going camping, and someone convinces Warren to play/sing them some songs. The fact that he’d even consider this shows you that these are his dorks. Headaches, sometimes, but they’re his. 

I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a thousand times: Put Maj and Warren in a room and the sarcasm instantly triples. 

I’ve made it pretty clear by now that Warren really values his friends, even if he doesn’t always show it. All the same, he does need his space, from time to time. It doesn’t mean he’s mad at them, or in a worse mood than normal. Just, he wants to be alone with his book(s) to get a bit of time to breathe. He doesn’t get a lot of that. Bonus points to whoever lets him have his brief chill periods. 

So, I mentioned above that Warren’s protective of his friends. But, can you imagine them being protective of him? Like, someone wants to prove they’re tough, so they try picking a fight with Warren. Before he can so much as spit back an insult or light up his hands, boom, suddenly there’s a buzzing swarm of angry sidekicks (+Will) telling them to step off. I don’t know who would be more confused - The instigator, because A) what are these losers doing here and B) why do they think they can protect Peace, or Warren, because A) he’s not used to people wanting to do stuff like that for him and B) he’s invulnerable and hurls fireballs and is 6′something as a freshie, he doesn’t usually need the protection. (He appreciates it, though. Once he’s done being snarly and baffled.)

Exactly once Layla was allowed to braid his hair. He swore her to secrecy after that. 

When it’s cold out, Warren is the unofficial space heater. Since he hates the cold, too, he puts up with it. Barely. 

It has since been proven that it’s not the tough-guy table without Warren there. There were mixed feelings about this all around.

Will and Warren continue making Save the Citizen history throughout their high school career. Unsurprisingly, they’re even better at it when Warren’s not out for blood and/or ashes. (He still doesn’t stick around for the afterparties, though.)

Do you think they just start shoving food at him when they notice he hasn’t been eating regularly? I do. He’s not sure what to make of it, but, he’ll take them up on offers, sometimes. Lighting up burns calories like nothing else.

This is an oldie but a goodie that I’ve written about before: Just like Will, Warren finds Zach and Ethan challenging him to fights and/or people to fight him without his input. Unlike Will, people are mildly sure Warren’s killed a man before, so these usually go nowhere fast. At least, they do, if he’s around.

He has nicknames for all of them. Originally, they started because he just didn’t know their names, and they wouldn’t leave him alone. Had to call them something, and proper intros just felt like asking for them to keep hanging on to him. He still uses the nicks more often than their actual names, even weeks, months, years of friendship later.

Ten bucks says at least one of them announced that Warren was ‘actually a really nice guy when you got to know him’ and the entire school was unsure whether that was a joke or not. 

Will and Warren? Mad science lab partners. Warren and Ethan? Chemistry geeks. 

He’s a very good listener (A la the first Paper Lantern scene, where he lets Layla go on and on with childhood stories). He knows so many of their secrets. He’s not sure why he was told some of them. He also doesn’t talk much, so, hey, they’re not going to get passed around.

That’s all for now tbh, but I’m sure there’ll be more later. :0