#though im not complaining i would watch that tape you know what i mean

[jaskiercommabard]

But what if what if what if Jaskier was invited to the Thanedd ball and he had a little Sandpipering to do during the melange and he did little dancey dancey whisper whisper with his husband and his boyfriend and his wife what then huh what if all their little fingers brushed while they were dancing huh what then WHAT. Even then.

[pink-bunny-angel]

omg!! can u plz write anything abt john bender 🙏🙏 there r like no fics of him im in the trenches out here. THANK U😁

Of course!!! This is my first one, I hope you like it! Sorry if it's not the best!

John Bender X Reader

(warnings: briefly mentions abusive parents)

Today has been the worst. I got up at 2 am and couldn't go back to sleep. I was looking forward to having my morning coffee to keep me awake but, no, the coffee maker was broken. I thought surely that would be it but when I got to school I was quickly proven wrong... We had a math test. Great. All day I was looking forward to seeing my boyfriend, John Bender, but my mom told me no one could come over since I had an F in science.

My mental health has already been plummeting. This is just great. I currently am sitting in my room, crying on my bed and reading my Bible, it's comforting. I gently put it down on my nightstand and stare at the ceiling. I think and think, trying to find anything to look forward to, but it's getting difficult. I stand up with a groan. Everything looks so dull. It's funny how a couple tiny things going wrong can impact someone's day so much, especially when they were already feeling terrible. I pick up my telephone and dial Bender's number and it rings.

"Hello?" I can hear his dad in the background yelling with his friend about something. I hear a couple of things about Bender from his dad. He must've been mad at him

"Um. Hi, Bender we can't hang out tonight.." I utter with a hint of anxiety in my voice. He doesn't pick up on it, he has always struggled to sense emotion over the telephone.

"What do you mean? Come on, y/n. I was really counting on you. My dad has been freaking out over everything all day. This is ruining my night." I know he wasn't purposefully trying to guilt trip me, he just does it subconsciously. I understand why he would be counting on me and why he would want to come over. I feel guilty, which makes me feel even worse.

"I'm sorry, John. My mom said we can't tonight. I wish you could come over. I miss you so much. I've been having a bad day too, not as bad as yours though-" He interrupts.

"I'm sorry. Let's not compare bad days, okay? Lay down. I'll be there in a minute." His voice is oddly gentle. I feel comforted for a second before I'm flooded with confusion.

"My mom said no, John-"

"Honey, I'll be there."

He hangs up. I feel panicked. My mom is not gonna be happy if he shows up. She's gonna think I didn't tell him. She's gonna tell me I did it on purpose... Great. She's gonna send him home and I'm gonna be in trouble. I flop on to my bed and let out a noise of frustration, I don't know who or what I'm angry at, I just feel angry. I hear a light knock on my window... You've got to be kidding me. I stand up and tiptoe hastily to the window. When I open it I see Bender, his medium brown hair is getting blown in his face as he frantically tries to pry open the window from the outside. I chuckle and open it. He slides in. His hair is messy and he is glaring.

"Took you long enough. I could've been blown down and killed!" I hug him. He hesitates. He huffs and hugs me back.

"I'm glad you're here. But I don't want to get in trouble." I look down, I feel my anxiety getting worse and worse. My mom can't know he is here. He holds me closer and buries his face in my hair.

"Don't worry, y/n. I'm sneaky." I can feel him smirking. I scoff.

"Keep telling yourself that." I mutter.

"Woah. You're grumpy." He takes off his boots and coats, throwing them to the ground. He walks over to my TV and grabs the Liar's Moon VHS tape.

"Liar's Moon? I thought you don't like romance movies?" I snicker. He always complains about romance movies, he always wants to watch action movies.

"I don't but.. it's your favorite or something." He says the last part very quiet, as if he doesn't want to get caught doing something sweet. He's trying to change, I remember the night he cried to me about wanting to change. He wants to be nicer and more caring. He's trying so hard. I decide not to tease him about his embarrassment from being caring. I'm so proud of him for trying.

"I love you." I say softly. I can't help but stare at him. He's so beautiful.

"I love you too.. I gue- actually.. I know for sure I love you too." He responds, trying to seem confident. I smile and he tries to look unbothered, I can tell love is still difficult for him to express, but that's okay. We're healing together.

I gently grab his arm and pull him to my bed. He flops on to it.

"Bender, my mom will hear...! Keep it down...!" I scold him quietly. He giggles. I can't help but smile. I quietly climb on to the bed with him. He had started the movie. I lay my head gently on his chest and feel him start to stroke my back with his fingertips. He can be so gentle. Who knew? I yawn and curl into him.

"Sleepy, baby?" He asks softly. I nod and rub my eyes. He gives my forehead the most soft, sweet kiss. "Goodnight, y/n. Sleep tight... I hope the bedbugs bite." I hear him snicker.

"Really..!"

[obeiii-mee]

Hey! I have a really loud and particular laugh that seems to carry quite literally throughout my house and there have been many times people have bought it up with me (I can’t help it my laugh is just loud & contagious!!). Could I request the bros reaction to MC who quite literally is unable to laugh quietly and ends up being heard through the whole of the house? Thank you!🥰

This is so sweet, geez imma get cavities. I also have a very loud laugh and I startle people a lot when I start laughing so I get what you mean!

These HCs are probably written a lot better because suddenly I’m full energy and motivation-

———————————————

The Brothers with an MC who has a loud and particular laugh:

Lucifer:

-He’ll never admit it but whenever you start laughing or even smiling, he can’t really stop himself from doing it too

-Like, he looks at you as you start cackling about a funny meme Levi just showed you and he’s holding back a smile-

-Because, even though you have such a loud and some would say ‘obnoxious’ laugh, he thinks you just sound so precious

-He really struggles to show that he’s not affected by you as much as he actually is

-Even if you start laughing at an inappropriate time, he’d likely not even tell you off properly

- Would never say anything of the sort to your face, but he low-key admires you

-He thinks it’s amazing that a simple human like you that has experienced so many horrible things every since they arrived in literal hell, can have the ability to laugh so heartily even now

-If you’re in public and start doing your boisterous laugh, he will keep a stoic expression on his face

-There’s a hint of a blush on his cheeks if you look close enough, though I doubt anyone is crazy enough to point it out

-In private though? Appreciate these moments y’all, because it’s one of the few rare times you’ll see him laugh freely

-Even when he’s around his brothers and trying to keep a straight face, you can see his lips threatening to curve upwards

-Basically, he thinks you’re baby and your laugh makes him feel at ease

Mammon:

-I head canon that he also has a very particular laugh because he gives off those kind of vibes

-He probably doesn’t even notice how loud you are when you start wheezing

-Normally, he’d join in and start laughing with you as the rest of the brothers take out their sound blocking ear muffs for the third time that day

-You two are loud ok?

-Poor Lucifer who not only has insomnia and is a workaholic, he also has two idiots giggling to themselves in the middle of the night

-When I said Mammon is trying to get a laugh out of you any hour of the day

-I mean any hour

-He will wake you up to just hear your voice and then proceed to run out as you start yelling at him

-Even if he were to notice it, the worst reaction you’re gonna get out of him is a bit of teasing

-“Ya sound like you’re dyin’ over there human. You alright?”

-When in reality, he’s even more smitten with you because your laugh is just another one of your amazing qualities

-Mammon does the stupidest shit in front of you to make you and hear you laugh because it warms his heart

-Even if he wouldn’t admit it, to you or to himself

-The only time he ‘doesn’t like’ it when you laugh is if you’re poking fun at him with his brothers

-That gets him all huffy puffy and sad

-For a minute, before he’s thrown himself onto you again

-Greedy for money and greedy for affection of course

Levi:

-ohcrapohcrapohcrapohcrap

-“YOU SOUND JUST LIKE THE MAIN CHARACATER’S LOVE INTEREST FROM THIS NEW ANIME I’M WATCHING! IT’S CALLED: PEOPLE KEEP TELLING ME I’M IN LOVE WITH MY BEST FRIEND BUT I’M ACTUALLY NOT, THOUGH WHOA THEY HAVE SUCH A PRETTY LAUGH!”

-Catch him rambling about it for five minutes straight

-Before stopping abruptly, flushing from head to toe and starting to stutter like he forgot how to speak

-This usually has you laughing again, in a more sympathetic and encouraging way and he just...dies

-He doesn’t like his laugh, at all

-He thinks it sounds really awkward and tense

-So he’s low-key jealous about your rather impulsive laugh because it’s so sweet??? And amazing and cute??? Just like you???

-But at the same time, it’s hard for him to be jealous of it when he loves it so much

-Why do you think he keeps coming to you whenever he finds funny memes or compilations online???

-“I don’t expect a normie like you to understand but look at this.”

-He gets a stupidly cute kick out of knowing that he is the one making you laugh

-I suggest trying not to laugh too much while he’s playing video games because your laugh distracts him so much

-And he will throw his headset at you

-Affectionately of course

Satan:

-He doesn’t give much of a reaction besides a quirked eyebrow and a quiet ‘Oh?’

-Sure, he doesn’t really like it when his brothers are being noisy either because they’re laughing too loudly or because they are fighting gladiator style outside his room

-But you’re the exception

-The only person in that household that could get away with interrupting his reading/work is you

-May come as a surprise to some, but sometimes Satan does get worried for you

-If he hasn’t seen you in a while he might start thinking that something is wrong

-But then he’d hear you laughing from downstairs and he’d smile and think “Eh they’re alright.”

-He thinks your laugh sounds so much more endearing than his own psychotic laugh 🥰🥰🥰

-Will throw one of his precious books at any of his brothers if they make fun of the way you laugh

-Basically, he has the biggest heart eyes for you but he’s too good at hiding it

-Laugh with him whenever something embarrassing happens to Lucifer and he will be so pleased and happy for the rest of the day

Asmo:

-“MC my dear, has anyone mentioned what a wonderfully charming laugh you have? And that says something coming from me.”

-Asmo also has a very noticeable laugh

-Not exactly loud but it could be considered obnoxious (to his brothers) and he giggles all the time when he’s very excited

-Having Asmodeous as your partner is basically the same thing as dating your best friend

-Despite being the Avatar of Lust, your relationship with him is super healthy and even he takes comfort in that

-You’d both be chuckling to yourselves in Majolish or something because this bïtch is hilarious if he wants to be

-“Oh my Lord Diavolo! MC, look! I found the perfect outfit for Mammon!!”

-And it’s a Disney princess dress the size of a fuckn toddler

-You guys laughed so hard you got kicked out >:(

-But you ended up buying that dress for Mammon anyway lmaoo

-Spending too much time with Asmo is similar to the whole “I’m trying to be quiet in class but me and my friend keep laughing every time we look at each other”

-The way both of you have to strain yourselves from full on cackling when Lucifer has a go at either of you 😌

-Except you seriously can’t laugh because you will be ✨murdered✨

-“What do you mEAN YOU DON’T LIKE YOUR LAUGH, YOUR LAUGH IS GORGEOUS! NOT AS GORGEOUS AS MINE OBVIOUSLY BUT IT EASILY COMES IN SECOND!”

-That’s the kind of hype he gives you all day every day

Beel:

-The first time he properly heard you laugh was when you started making puns and you were laughing like crazy at your own jokes (samesies)

-And he just loves seeing you this happy because he gets happy and then he doesn’t even want to eat anymore, he just wants to hug you

-“I like your laugh. Do it again for me?”

-Your heart went doki doki

-It’s common for Beel to make you all flustered without meaning to and then you nervously start laughing again because you feel so awkward

-BUT your face brightens up so much when you start laughing or even smiling and he can’t help himself from complimenting you

-Your joyous and loud chuckles always cheer him up

-To the point where he completely forgets how hungry he is

-Took you a while to figure this one out but his mood sort of changes with yours??

-If you’re visibly sadder than usual, he his morale is also surprisingly low and he starts eating more than usual

-In comparison to when you’re all bubbly and doing that beautiful laugh of yours and he gets like these butterflies in his stomach instead of the usual pangs of pain and hunger

-So now he just wants to hear your voice in general on repeat for the rest of eternity

-Im not crying you are

Belphie:

-“You’re too loud dumbass, I’m tryin’ to nap here.”

-Will deadass throw a pillow at your face if you wake him up

-Like hes so rude and for what?

-He loves you and your annoying as fuck laugh, he really does I promise

-It’s a special, unique part of you and all that sappy crap

-But keep it up and you will have a very cranky boyfriend to deal with for the rest of the month

-He can be such an ass at times if he’s in a bad mood

-“I should tape your mouth shut.”

-“Kinky-“

-“Shut up.”

-But as much as he hates being woken up by somebody else, he would much prefer waking up to your voice rather anyone else’s

-You usually wake him up in the mornings to get ready for RAD and you start giggling every time he pulls a face at you and complains that he doesn’t wanna

-“What are you? An alarm clock?”

-And then he just sort of pulls you to him and goes with a completely straight face:

-“You’re annoying but you can be my alarm clock if you want to.”

-He’s either flirting or is so sleepy he’s being unusually soft hELP

—————————-

Thank you for reading! And for all the reblogs and follows. You guys don’t even know how much I appreciate your support. Especially at times when I’m not as motivated to write and now that the fandom has fizzled out a bit.

Also imma have to make a master list soon or something

Al~

[cringe-central]

Love Languages

The Lost Boys: Seperate

Giving vs. Recieving

A/N: Im so sorry this took so long to complete. I just started a new job so things may take longer, but ill still be writing. The next fic will most likely be poly with you and the boys getting together. 

David

Giving: Gifts

David enjoys giving gifts that remind you of who you belong to. He's not good with emotions so giving momentos, to David, is a good way of showing his love.

David gives gifts to show you that even if he isn't around, he's thinking about you. He also uses gifts as an excuse to take care of you. He views himself as your protector and wants you to know that he can and will provide for you. 

If he sees you looking at something for just a little too long, he will totally pay for it, legally, with money. He definitely won’t steal it if that's what you're thinking. But whether it's gained via dubious means or not, it's yours. David is basically a criminally inclined sugar daddy. 

If you make an off comment about being hungry? You're getting food. You tell him he doesn't have to get something for you? That's too bad, it's not even a question to David, you're getting taken care of. 

David just wants to provide and protect, just let the boy take care of you the only way he knows how.

Receiving: Physical affection

David is very touch starved under all that angst, pride, and daddy issues. Although he wont admit it, he needs to be given affection, badly. 

Before he met you it never bothered him, he had the boys and he didn't need more than that. But when you came into his life, and you held his face in your hands? He realized how much he missed being held by another.

He's never thought highly of humanity, but your warmth pressed against him and feeling the steady rise and fall of your chest under his hand hits him in his cold, undead heart.

In public, PDA is kept at a minimum with David so he can keep up his rough and tough persona. He acts annoyed when you get clingy, but it's painfully obvious that he actually adores it. If you want to force him to hold your hand he'll complain about it, but he wouldn't dare move away from you.

In private however, all bets are off. Chairs aren't allowed, you're either on his lap or laying on top of him. Worry about his legs falling asleep? Don’t, he's already dead, they physically can't fall asleep. You aren't going anywhere sweetheart. If you're standing? He's wrapping his arms around your stomach.

If for some reason he moves his hands away while cuddling and you bring his hands back, He swears he can almost feels his heart start beating again. He finds you adorable when you're like this. It makes David smile when he sees your look of mock offense when he takes his arms away from you.

Cuddle this man. He may try to act all tough and intimidating, but he just wants to be held.

Dwayne

Giving: Acts of Service

Dwayne likes making your life easier, he's not a big talker but he knows that actions often speak louder than words.

He's a vampire, so the biggest stress factor the boys have is being found out and staked, but other than that he and the boys live a carefree life. He knows being a human is often very difficult. Picking up on your stressors and helping make your life easier is how he shows affection best. 

Often if you're really busy, Dwayne will pick up food for you and make you take a break before helping you finish what you were doing. If you feel unwell in the slightest he’ll be there in a second to take care of you. Dwayne is also very tall, and will always get things down from above without even needing to be asked, it's basically a reflex at this point. 

 It's not uncommon for Dwayne to finish those last edits of an essay you were writing. He'd do more than that but he knows you'd be upset with him if he did. If you worry about taking advantage of him, Dwayne assures you that isn't the case. Taking that weight off of your shoulders makes him feel not only wanted, but needed.

Dwayne needs to know he's taking care of you, he's never been one to show love through words but you never go a day without feeling it.

Receiving: Quality Time

Ever since you and Dwayne became a couple, you've been the first thought in his head every morning, wanting to get feedings done sooner so he could spend time with you.

Dwayne has a lot of free time on his hands and during the time he spends with you, every possible ounce of attention you could give him was given. He adored those long conversations where you went on and on about whatever your current hyperfixation was. Even if you felt as if you annoyed him by simply rambling about a topic, he found those moments intimate and special.

Museum and Bookstore dates were very common between the two of you. Debates and deep conversations were a favorite of his, you both respected each other and your opinions. 

For museums, he would watch you stare at the exhibits in wonder while he told you of what history he remembered in certain pieces. Though he wasn't too old by vampiric standards, you would ask him all sorts of questions about the eras he's lived in. He's very quiet, but it's on these dates where you can get him going.

Bookstore dates are quieter, there was one a little ways away from the hotel that stayed open later into the night. Once a week, you and Dwayne would try to get there as soon as possible and stay there until they kicked you out. You would buy (definitely not steal) books and walk back to the beach or, if it was particularly cold, back to the cave. You two would then read them and discuss the book until the next bookstore date.

Paul

Giving: Physical Touch 

Paul loves giving affection, he takes offense to any moment spent without his S/O in his arms. He knows his reputation, and keeping you close shows that you're not to be fucked with. Many girls may try to get his attention, but they will never be the ones on Paul's hip and you take that as a badge of pride.

Paul enjoys the summer, his cool body is perfect for giving a lot of cuddles during that time. The colder months are heavily disliked by both you and him because of you body needing to stay warm, but Paul gives the best hugs, to the point where you begin to crave his touch.

Paul's worst fear is you feeling ignored or unloved; if you two have been physically distant he will immediately rectify it as soon as he can. This boy will never let his S/O go un-snuggled. Every time you're upset you are swept into Paul’s lap with your head tucked under his chin.

When you're at the boardwalk, your hand is always in his or his arm is around your shoulders. If you two are sitting down then you'll be in his lap. The boys may tease him about it but he doesn't mind, he's proud to show you off. 

Paul is a himbo at the end of the day, he's not good with words and has said the wrong thing before, but through his actions you are shown how truly loved and valued you are to him.

Receiving: Words of Affirmation

Paul is a very literal person, he enjoys when you tell him what's on your mind, and he adores listening to you talk. Listening to you talk is the highlight of his night.

Even though Paul shows love through physicality, he needs to be told the words I love you. The first time you told him those three simple words he became pretty emotional. He couldn't remember the last time someone genuinely told him he was loved, and here you were confirming your mutual affections for each other. He's so soft for you man. 

You always tell him how much he is admired and adored as you hold his face in your hands, and Paul melts every single time. He finds a lot more pride in his clothing and hair after you rave about how amazing he looks.

He values what you say above everyone else's opinion, and if you like the new thing he did with his eyeliner you notice he does it significantly more. Paul is the definition of jokester, but when you tell him what he said made you laugh he takes it to heart. 

Paul loves being a vampire, but sometimes he needs you to say you aren't afraid of him. That despite what he is, you still feel safe around him. Even the toughest of people feel insecure sometimes and you're willing to do whatever he needs to feel okay again.

Marko

Giving: Physical affection

There's a reason him and Paul are best friends, sometimes a bro needs a hug. And though his motto was always ‘bros before hoes’ something was missing. There was a level of affection he longed to give, but never could. 

When he met you and he was finally able to give those romantic affections, he went overboard. Always holding you and touching you in some way, you weren't let out of his grasp for weeks. Any time you needed to leave the cave to go home, Marko would whine and beg you to stay with him for a little while longer. Any time he could convince you to stay the night, he would be ecstatic. 

Marko is very happy to know that someone loves him for him, and he is determined to show that in every single moment of your relationship. If you had a distant boyfriend before? Destroy those expectations, because you got the clingiest vampire in the lost boys. 

He loves to scent mark on you, a giant vampire thing, it's like a drug to this angel faced sweetheart. Having his scent melding with yours as you two roam the boardwalk drives the boy insane. Marko is very possessive, and he can't help but nuzzle into your neck or wrap his arms around your torso so that everyone knows you're taken. 

Much like his best friend, Marko is also a himbo. He needs you close to him and if you aren't he becomes whiny. The next time you see him, you won't be leaving his grasp any time soon.

Receiving: Gift giving

Marko is an artistic being and he appreciates gifts that have effort put into them. Things that are bought are nice, but if you spent hours making something? He doesn't care what it is, he will love it.

If you made him a bracelet, he'd wear it every day. If you paint, you'd notice pieces of art taped onto the wall, growing with every piece you make him. If you bake? What you make him is gone in a day. His favorite gifts however are the patches you make him, sewing them on and admiring the intricate detail put into each one. 

Everything you make him or give him is valued, keeping anything and everything tangible in a wooden box that Marko painted himself. He protects that box with his life, keeping it in the most protected place in the cave.

If you write him letters he stores them in the box and he reads them by the fire pits when he can't sleep, which helps him get some shuteye. He treasures every little thing you give him, but to Marko, you are the true gift. Each of those momentos being a simple reminder of the wonderful being who made them.

[butteraway]

when time runs out | iv

⋆ summary:  A young girl has fallen deeply ill with an unknown disease in her, so with all her free time spent in an empty hospital room, she spends it online playing video games. That's until she meets her cousins friends, one spiking her interest with his extremely vulgare language.

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader

word count: 2.5k

warnings: none

authors note: I wanna say im so sorry for lying to yall about that extra chapter KJDFFF😭😭 ALSO @chibiiichann I APOLOGIZE FOR SPAMMING YOU WHENEVER I REPLIED TO YOU💀 A DIFFERENT ACC WOULD POP UP BUT THE FIRST CHAPTER WAS AN INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER EXPLAINING THE OC'S CONDITION JFJDJD

"HAHA! I GOTCHU NOW LOSER!" Y/N smashed the buttons on her controller, basically on the edge of her bed. A grunt was heard through her headphones, then a loud bang with laughing in the background. Y/N felt her stomach turn at the sound of this, feeling a little left out, but smiled nonetheless.

"HOW'D YOU EVEN DO THAT?!! YOU’RE DOING SOME HACKING MY GUY!" Denki yelled through the laughing in the background, hands pulling at his hair. He seriously couldn't believe it!

"I'm not! I just wanted to show Sero I'm way better at this game than you are. And turns out I am!" Y/N let out a loud laugh, falling backwards onto her pillow. After finding out that 'Tape Dispenser' went to her cousin’s school by hearing his voice in the back of Denki's room, she got to learn more about this Sero dude. She already knew this after their last game a few nights ago, but he was so chill. It was still insane for her to find out that her cousin and online friend went to the same hero school. The coincidences in this world. Y/N thought as she grinned.

"It's okay Kaminari, you still lasted a long time! But you did get brutally beat by Y/N at the end though..." Sero said, trying to raise Denki's low spirits, but only succeeded in making him more miserable. Rustling was heard through Y/N's headphones, making it obvious that there was movement happening.

"You don't understand Sero! THIS IS THE ONLY GAME I COULD FULLY BEAT THIS GIRL IN!" Denki shook Sero by the shoulders, quickly doing the action. Cackling was heard through the speakers while the girl wiped a tear from her eye. Sero laughed along, as he was pushed to the ground by Denki. His arms were crossed as he looked away, upset that Y/N managed to finally beat him in every game they played.

"It's okay Denki, not everyone can be as good as me!" Y/N exclaimed, getting up from her bed to start taping specific parts of her room. Kaminari continued to complain about his defeat to Sero, who only chuckled in response. As she finished taping the bottom of the walls, Y/N sat back on her bed, sighing in content.

"So, how are you? I'm doing terribly after being utterly destroyed by you, by the way." Said Kaminari, opening his water bottle and taking large gulps from it. Y/N felt her face light up as she remembered to tell Kaminari of her future activity.

"Bro, you won't believe this! So, basically, they're actually letting me paint my room! All by myself! How fricking cool is that?!" The girl laughed out loud, jumping on her bed in excitement. Kaminari's eyes widen, in surprise and slight fear, sitting up and taking in the new information.

"Wait, really? But isn't that like extremely dangerous? Cuz of the chemicals and what not??" He tried his best to keep his voice leveled, not noticing Sero look at him weirdly. That guy had no idea what was happening.

"Well, they said that they were gonna do something to the paint so it won't hurt me or anything, I don't know what, but-" Y/N was cut off by an extremely confused Sero. "Wait wait wait, hold on. I don't understand what's happening. How can paint harm you? Besides like...eating it. And what do you mean by 'finally getting to paint your room?’ Silence was the only answer he got. Sero gulped in embarrassment, thinking he asked a really personal question.

"Um, it's nothing du-" A loud 'shhhhhhh' was heard from Y/N, who let out a shaky breath. She never really told anyone, it's not like she could either way, being confined in the hospital room for a long time. She pushed a loose strand of her away from her face, preparing herself to tell Sero.

"Well, the reason is because I basically live in a hospital. I can't go outside, or have 'unpurified' air, as the doctors like to say, meaning my interactions with people and the outside world are extremely limited. That means anything that's not cleared of dust and germs, I guess, can be extremely harmful for me? As pathetic as it sounds, it could actually kill me, haha." It was quiet as Sero took in the information, a large wave of emotions crashing on him. A person shouldn't have to be locked in a room for the rest of their life. Especially someone who is such a sweet person like Y/N.

"I-I'm so sorry to hear that Y/N. If you don't mind me asking, how...how long have you been in the hospital?" The young girl answered with a quick 'Two years', and that's when Sero felt his stomach twist uncomfortably. Kaminari abruptly got up and headed towards his door.

"I'm gonna get something to eat, you want something dude?" Kaminari's voice was low and trembling. It didn't take a genius to see that the blonde haired boy needed some time alone. "No thanks." Kaminari let out a hum, quickly exiting his room and closing the door shut. Sero heard the loud sniffs that slowly faded away, as he hung his head down.

"Hey, you good Sero? That was probably a lot to take in, sorry." Sero shook his head, letting a sad smile adorn his face. "It's fine, really. I actually feel honored that you're comfortable telling me. Feels like we're getting closer, to be honest." He smiled happily, meaning every word he said. And Y/N knew that. "Ha, we are though!" The air was tense, despite the two teenagers being in different rooms.

Y/N went to clear her throat, but was interrupted when a light knock echoed throughout her room. "Someone there?" Sero asked, noticing her silence and hearing the very faint knocking.

"Yeah, um Sero, I'll call you guys later, my doctor wants to talk." Y/N quickly replied, seeing Receen open the door and walk in with his thin suit on. Sero let out an ok and they hang up. Y/N finally took in how the doctor looked, noticeable eye bags under his blue-grey eyes, from lack of sleep. His dark hair slightly tousled, probably from putting on the protective helmet that came with the suit, and a small smile on his welcoming face. And a large container of paint in his left hand. Her eyes immediately lit up.

"What’s up doc? I see you have something in your hand, can I see it closer?" The small girl asked, getting up and making a grabbing motion with her hands. Receen chuckled, lifting up the paint for Y/N to see. Even if he were to hand her the container, she wouldn't be able to hold. She was just too weak. Said girl let out a high pitch 'OOOO ' in excitement.

"I'm not sure if you wanted more, but we managed to get you your favorite color! This should be enough to paint the room, you can even put a second layer if you want." Receen walked over to where Y/N put all the equipment, opening the container of paint. And with a low grunt from him, the lid was opened. Y/N watched with amazement as the doctor poured the soft looking paint into a tray. She picked up a roller near her, and drowned the roller in paint, the white fluff getting covered in color.

The two began painting, Y/N's hand shaking every now and then. After painting half the room, they sat in silence, resting for a while. Receen seemed to be tense, though Y/N didn't seem to notice since she was too happy to speak. Receen let out a breath, breaking the silence, causing Y/N to look towards him.

"I didn't get to ask you how you were, did I Y/N? How are you?" Said girl let a beaming smile spread on her face, causing Receen to slightly squint his eyes from the intensity of her smile. "Honestly, I haven't felt this happy in a very long time! I actually still can't believe you guys really let me do this! Thank you so much!"

Receen gave her a small smile while rubbing the back of his neck. "It's not a problem, you could’ve asked sooner and gotten this done a long time ago. You've been here for two years, so please don't be afraid of asking for things!" At the mention of her time spent in the hospital, Y/N lowered her head, causing Receen to wince. Well, might as well tell her. The doctor cleared his throat and began to talk.

"Y/N, as you are aware, I, along with many other doctors and scientists, have been working hard for you to be able to go outside again. To see your family, hug them, be a normal kid again." There was a pause and that alone caught Y/N's attention. She looked up at him. "There is a way for you to finally do that, Y/N."

Shock evident on the girl's face, she abruptly stood up and faced the doctor. There was absolutely no way anyone could have found a cure for someone like her. Someone who had an incurable sickness. Someone who was too sick, to even have medicine. He's lying. Y/N narrowed her eyes at the grown man sitting in front of her.

"With all due respect Doctor, I highly doubt that ​​that's possible. Cuz, y'know? I basically have an incurable disease? I mean, like, even if you did manage to find a way for me to leave this place, how do you even know it's gonna work? I don't think you've tried this medicine since no one in recorded hospital documents in the past have had people like that checked in before-"

"How do you even know that?"

"-so how do you truly know it'll work?" Y/N quickly finished, completely ignoring his statement. Receen sighed, scratching his head. "We live in a world where quirks exist. Would you believe me if I told you centuries ago that the human race would evolve to have super powers? It's kind of like that, but not really." Y/N eyed him suspiciously. He's avoiding the question.

Receen looked straight at the girl standing in front of him. He felt slightly intimidated by her piercing gaze. He quickly looked away and got up, towering over Y/N's small frame. Then he smiled. "Y/N, you are a very sweet girl, no doubt about it. I know how much you want to get out of here, and I want to help you. My team has created this almost perfect pill, especially suited for your sickness. I know you're very cautious, just like your mother, but I can only reassure you, that these are your ticket out of here." He pulled out the bottle from his protective suit, shaking it in front of [Y/N].

Her eyes widened as she restrained herself from reaching out and snatching the bottle. Her eyes slightly narrowed as she pulled herself together. Crossing her arms and slightly tilting her upwards, she looked into the doctor's bright eyes. "There's always a catch when it comes to these kinds of things. What's the price if I take these? My lifespan shortens, I only have five hours to go outside, it drugs me or something?"

"I'm hurt you think I would just give you these without setting out the consequences." There was a slight glint in his eyes before it quickly disappeared. Y/N hummed, urging the doctor to continue.

"There are exactly 15 pills in here. And consuming just one of these bad boys right here, would allow you to go outside! Though, time is very important when taking these. You'd have 10 hours before the pills effects wear off. These would dull your hypersensitive senses, but not to a point where you can't feel, smell or do anything. No no, it'd just be like how you were before. You'd feel slightly dizzy and be a little itchy, but besides that, nothing too extreme. It just dulls all your body senses down." Receen gave Y/N a small smile. She looked a little weary, unsure if what he said was true. She looked at the bottle then back to Doctor Receen, fingers twitching every now and then. Breathing in and letting it out slowly, Y/N stared straight into the doctor's eyes.

If I take these, I can finally go out. I can hug mom and dad, I can be around Denki again. I can meet Sero face to face and feel the grass again! I can be... happy again. But if these don't actually work, I'd immediately die on the spot. I'd be able to go outside though. Aah, so much going outside, I can meet new people! I don't wanna spend the rest of my days slowly rotting away in here anyway.

"So Y/N, are you going to take them or let all our time go to waste?"

Sero looked at his hands solemnly, thinking about what Y/N had told him. He swallowed the lump forming in his throat, then lightly slapped his cheeks to stop the wave of emotions from spilling out.

"Yo, you good dude? It's not everyday I see someone willingly slapping themselves." Kaminari chuckled, walking in and closing the door with his foot as he carried a soda bottle and a bag of chips towards the boy sitting on his bed. Sero grinned, feeling the sadness of everything wash away.

"Yeah, I'm perfectly fine. But what about you though? After we had that conversation, you were, well, umm... kind of out of it." Kaminari froze, letting a dejected smile appear on his face. Dragging a hand down his face, he let out a sorrowful laugh.

"She's my best friend. My first real, true friend. She's basically my sister at this point. So when she collapsed that day, I felt my whole world crashing down. She is the sweetest, the most kindest, person I have ever met. She never let me degrade myself, alway cheered me up when people called me stupid." Kaminari rubbed his eyes, opening the bag of chips and plopping one of them into his mouth.

"It hasn't been the same ever since she left, her parents barely come over anymore, and they're always so sad whenever I see them. My own parents aren't the same either, they treated her like their own daughter. I can't even begin to imagine how Y/N feels about this all. She was the top in our grade, highest scores in our test. No one could compare to her. M-my heart breaks for her. She lost everything." Sero let that information sink in, thinking about how she was before. He smiled as he saw Kaminari's shoulders begin to shake. He cares so much for her.

He put his hand on his shoulder, watching Kaminari slowly lift his face towards him. "Come here you emotional ball of feelings." Being the friendly guy he is, Sero gave the sobbing boy a hug, cuz hugs fix everything.

"No homo though bro." And with that, they both laughed out loud, continuing their bro day.

[miekasa]

the pre-pancetta snippet: early december, 3 months before the world went to shit

💉levi gets sick [levi grumbles in the background]

it was the pre-pandemic flu season. levi caught it at work and just his luck, it was pretty bad for him. but healthcare is expensive, capitalism sucks, so he wore a mask and still went to work the next day, thinking bedrest during the weekend would be enough. erwin kindly dropped off some sports drinks while hange gave him a new bag of black tea leaves. oc comes home to find him almost asleep at the table while waiting for water to boil for his tea and her senses tingle. she just knows. levi is pretty out of it by then, very pissed, feeling like shit, but still thinking about the slack he has to pick up at work. oc is very concerned because he looks awful. she bugs him and asks him if he’s okay with her checking him up. he is about to tell her to piss off but what the hell, lucky his roomie’s a doctor and he’ll take free healthcare when he can. so he nods once in dramatic brooding levi fashion.

her hands are cool on his forehead and neck, it feels so good, and levi is really trying not to accidentally moan out loud. when she brings out her stethoscope and asks him to take deep breaths, his focus is on her hand absentmindedly rubbing his shoulder [levi thoughts: he’s really out of it if this is all he can focus on]. oc’s brow furrows when she finds out he’s had only one cup of tea for the entire day and only one meal the day before. he says he’s brewing more, but oc is not having it! she heats up some leftover soup she has and makes him eat before handing him a tylenol. levi feels unsteady and weak but he’s trying to keep up the i’m-fine-it’s-just-the-flu facade. oc sees right through it and tails him to his room.

she helps him to bed, all while saying he’ll need meds for the virus and he needs to eat and drink more fluids because he’ll need an IV drip if not. even if it’s just the flu, he got a pretty bad case. levi strips off his shirt before he drops onto his pillows, grumpy and dismissive, telling her to just leave the prescription. he can handle it. oc snorts before leaving him alone (for now)

levi wakes up to rustling sounds and finds oc by his bedside setting up some stuff. his head is pounding, entire body is aching, and his cough is killing his throat. he’s very grumpy and is about to tell oc to just let him be but he gets a coughing fit. oc rubs his back while checking his vitals, her voice soft with worry as she asks him how he is feeling. he says he went to the bathroom but that’s it. he doesn’t see oc frown, but he’s more than annoyed that he is disturbed when she digs him out of the blankets. she helps him sit up, propping him on his pillows, and she makes him eat more soup, drink some tea, and take his meds. his throat is cooling and he realizes belatedly that she made him strong mint tea. he’s just swallowing whatever so he can go back to sleep [levi is trying very hard not to vocalize his disappointment whenever her hands leave him]. oc sighs at the little care her patient has for himself, but she tells him that he needs a drip at this point. she’s not satisfied with how little he’s been eating and drinking. levi is ready to throw hands because he refuses to spend thousands of dollars for 2 hours at the emergency room and get scammed by health insurance just so they can give him IV fluids, but oc surprises him by saying she’s all set up, and if he’s okay with it, she can do it here.

he shrugs and holds out his hand. the skin of her hands are a little rough with a few calluses, her touch so light and sure. the needle pinches but the pain dulls after a few seconds. he watches oc taping up the line and securing his hand to some makeshift splint so it doesn’t move around much. oc hangs up the bottle on the hanger she installed on the wall lamp by his bed before heading out. levi tries to fall back into sleep again. suddenly, he feels a damp cool cloth brush his forehead and his face while another hand runs through his hair gently. he’s groggy and he squirms because what. he hears oc shushing him, saying something about sponge baths for fever, and he’s just so not used to tenderness and care, and she’s sponging down his neck and his chest, running over his arms, turning him on his side gently so she doesn’t jostle him into wakefulness. her hands are firm and gentle as they wipe down his back and it’s cool and soothing and so good over his heated skin. he falls asleep in minutes. this never happens.

he thinks oc drops in once more in the middle of the night because he remembers someone holding him up to take something. when he wakes up the next morning, his fever is gone and he feels like himself again. he sees an empty bottle on his bedside table which means oc must have changed his drip too. the one he’s hooked to is almost gone. he’s in the middle of answering a work email on his phone when oc, already dressed for work, pops in to check on him. she has a tray in hand, looking genuinely relieved and happy that he’s better. his knows his appetite is back because the smell immediately makes his mouth water. he is very hungry after 3 days of soup and tea. she made really good pancakes, fried bacon to a perfect crisp, and the scrambled eggs are savory and creamy. it’s killing him. he can forgive the tea bag from a packet. levi is still a tea snob. oc is cheery, chirping that he’s good to go without a drip as long as he keeps up his food and fluids.

oc: water, tea, or pocari sweat, levi! none of the sugary sports drinks erwin left you, that stuff is a scam.

levi: i don’t have pocari—

oc: i bought you some, they’re in the drinks cupboard!

levi: why—

oc: it’s not just sugar, it has the electrolytes you need!!

she unhooks the IV and takes out his line, lays out his medication regimen and tells him to please call her if he starts feeling bad again. levi rolls his eyes and bats her concern away, grumbling that he’s fine and well enough, but he’s listening to every word she says. he utters a small thank you because how on earth does he convey his immense gratitude in words, he is not used to words!!! his cheeks feel very warm. oc giggles and ruffles his hair. she understands her roomie’s not talkative, but his soft gaze betrays everything beneath his gruff exterior. his shyness is adorable even if he was a grumpy old man while sick. oc thinks that her theory of him being 89 years old deep inside might be right after all. she sternly tells him to rest and lay off strenuous activities until he’s really recovered.

oc: rest. no cleaning today.

levi: my room—

oc: no. cleaning. today.

and just like that, she’s off to work [levi thoughts: wtf she works on sundays?]. all that levi can think of for three days, or more like since that day, are her gentle, comforting touches, her kind smiles, and how pretty she is. he tries, he really tries to push back the thoughts and bury the memories, but all efforts become in vain for him the next week.

he’s reading on the couch and relaxing for the night when oc comes out of her room looking like a fucking goddess. she’s in a deep green dress of flowing silk with thigh-high slit, sporting a dark, vibrant red lip, complaining of some recognition ceremony she has to attend for one of her bosses at work. she pouts while slipping on pumps that make her legs look even more stunning. levi is aware that he is staring and has tuned out her voice, so he forces himself out of it. he remembers basic conversation etiquette and lamely asks about the party. oc says it’s a black-tie-long-gown thing that’s a waste of her time. she twists her hair up in a messy bun and puts on earrings, grumbling that this is the most formal she’ll go. levi is mildly amused when she says she’ll nick a bottle of good champagne and some desserts before she escapes the party in an hour. tops.

levi: what if you get caught?

oc: they can spare one bottle and a few cupcakes

levi: and what reason have you come up with if they start interrogating you?

oc: my roommate is sad and a stress-eat is essential after shitty weeks of being underpaid laborers *cheeky smile*

he rolls his eyes. when she steps out their door (her uber’s there), levi counts to ten before groaning very loudly to let his frustrations out.

but she really did steal and bring home the good stuff, squealing in excitement when she sees that he was still up. he actually waited for her to get home but she doesn’t need to know that. they shared fruit tarts and fancy mini-cakes and worked through the bottle of champagne while bonding over their mutual disdain for assholes at work. conversation was open and easy, and levi cannot remember when he has been this comfortable around others who weren’t old friends of his. he was in an old shirt and jogger shorts. oc was still in her dress, barefoot, lipstick still perfect and bun still messy, picking a strawberry off the last cake while laughing at his dry jab about her boss. and jesus christ, she was exquisite.

at this point, denial begins to trickle in, but levi doesn’t know that yet. it’s just the champagne, right?

end. this was so mf long, i’m so sorry 😭 anyway this is insanely self-indulgent, and this is me coping with the pandemic (and with SnK ending today)

AHHHHHHH I LOVE ALL OF THIS ANON!!! SO MUCH!!!! PLEASE THIS HIT ALL THE MARKS!! Levi being reluctant to having someone take care of him, oc picking up on him not feeling well even though he’s not really showing it, and eventually just giving him the care and attention he needs (without suffocating him because you know he would be grumpy about that). I love this wow, seriously. 

AND THE END!! When they’re drinking together and he’s feeling better, you know damn well he didn’t even want her to leave in the first place, and IM SO GLAD HE’S FINALLY REALIZING!! Levi, my beloved, you are in love it is not the champagne 😌😌

[artificialqueens]

Little Home (Deladore) - Candy Cane

A/N: soooo… i know i havent exactly been around lately. im dealing with a lot  of things atm (like most people lol) but i managed to get this out for the rare pair challenge! i think its a cute ship and i really hope that u enjoy @drag-race-jedi <3 im also working on the third installment of Everything is Color, and i have planned it out so that the series is at least five works so we’ll see how that goes sdfsdgf hope yall enjoy this lil fic for today tho

Summary: Adore was always a clutz.

Adore has been trying very hard for the last hour to not get in Dela’s way, and she would probably be more successful if she just sat still in a different room, but she loves watching her girlfriend in the kitchen. And even more than that she loves helping her girlfriend in the kitchen. The singer can admit she’s an awful fucking cook on top of being a giant clutz, she just doesn’t allow either of those things stop her. Tonight is very special though, as they’re throwing a dinner party to christen the new house they’re renting out together.

It’s a small house, only one bedroom since they really don’t need a ton of space. The big appeal lies in that it’s near each of their jobs and the parts of town that they frequent the most. By no means was it an easy find, but it’s perfect for them. Adore loves that she gets to have her own home with the person she is fairly certain is the love of her life, who is currently flying about the kitchen in a frenzy trying to get everything ready.

They have one more hour until all four of the people they invited start arriving and Adore is getting worried for Dela. The older woman is clearly stressed, wearing a nervous frown as she completes each task as best as she can. While Adore knows she’s not really being helpful trailing after Dela like a dejected puppy, she’s not sure what else she could do.

“Babe…” Adore whines, big pleading eyes looking down at Dela with a very convincing pout, “I wanna help!”

Dela sighs from where she’s standing at the counter, knife in hand as she cuts the mushrooms for her vegetable medley, “And you already set the table?”

“Yeah!” Adore nods eagerly.

“And did the dishes?”

“All the ones you gave me,” Adore says earnestly.

The older purses her lips thoughtfully, “I need to do some touch ups for tonight. Do you think you can cut these and put them in the pan?”

Adore grins, realizing she’s worn down on Dela, “Yup! Go take care of yourself baby, I’ve totally got this!”

Dela smiles softly, “Alright, but be careful. Remember what happened the last time I gave you a knife?”

“I’ll be fine!” Adore insists, shooing her girlfriend back towards the bedroom, “I’ll yell if I need help.”

“Alright…” Dela relents skeptically, quickly disappearing into their bedroom to freshen up for the evening.

She loves Adore, a lot, but her girlfriend is nothing less than a walking disaster. No matter what it seems she manages to find a way to wind up with a new set of scrapes and bruises everyday, even though Dela begs Adore to be more careful. Still, most nights Dela finds herself forcing Adore to put a bandaid on a particularly bad cut, or put ice on especially nasty bruises. While Dela worries and is often frustrated by Adore’s unusual habit, she loves being able to take care of her.

It didn’t take long for her to come to that conclusion. However, it did take a while to become completely comfortable with that conclusion. She feels all warm and soft inside whenever Adore gives her a kiss and a ‘thank you’ after she takes care of her. Though what she loves most is knowing that Adore is safe, and healthy.

Just minutes after starting to redo her hair, Dela hears a loud yelp from the kitchen. She quickly sets down her hair brush and heads back to the kitchen, a worried shout of “Adore?!” on her lips.

This has to be a new record, Dela thinks, a little amused at the thought but mostly concerned for her disastrous girlfriend.

The first thing she sees upon entering the kitchen is Adore hunched over the cutting board, one hand gripping the other tightly, long hair covering her face, and her shoulders visibly quivering.

Dela runs up to her and wraps her arms tightly around the taller girl, then reaches out for her clearly injured hand. There’s blood dripping from her hand onto the cutting board and all over the mushrooms, the sight of which causing Dela to feel a little sick and very worried.

“Let me see,” Dela says, attempting to pry Adore’s hands apart so that she can survey how bad the cut really is. She hopes it’s not actually very deep, that Adore is just being dramatic, but there’s really no telling quite yet.

“I’m okay,” Adore says through clenched teeth, not letting Dela look at her hand.

“Honey, please,” Dela begs softly, moving Adore’s hair out of the way to look into her eyes.

Adore sucks in a sharp breath and slowly reveals her hand to Dela, whispering a very quiet, “I’m sorry.”

Upon gently taking her hand to inspect it further Dela discovers that the cut is surprisingly shallow, it’s just deep enough to bleed a lot but not deep enough to mean any real damage was done. She sighs in relief, and kisses Adore’s cheek softly. She’s mostly just glad that Adore isn’t severely hurt, as that would not make for a fun evening for any of them.

“Accidents happen, but maybe I shouldn’t leave you unsupervised in the kitchen anymore,” Dela reassures her teasingly.

Adore giggles wetly, rubbing roughly at the tears collecting in the corner of her eyes with her good hand, “Yeah, that’s… that’s probably a good idea.”

Dela pulls Adore over to the sink, carefully eyeing the way Adore grips her wounded hand, “Sweetness, I have to clean it.”

“I know,” Adore pouts, “It just hurts even more when you do though!”

“I’m sorry, I know,” Dela soothes, turning on the sink faucet and guiding Adore’s hand underneath the warm, low pressure water.

After rinsing it with water thoroughly, Dela pours hydrogen peroxide over the wound, shushing and soothing Adore the whole time. The younger whines and grumbles through the whole thing, and Dela feels terrible for it, she does, but she knows how necessary it is and doesn’t allow her girlfriend to pout her way out of it. She pats it dry with a paper towel, presses a cotton pad onto the wound, then wraps that in medical grade tape from their first aid box.

“There!” Dela finishes with her signature smile, “All done.”

“Thank you, baby,” Adore says, leaning forward to kiss Dela. It lasts a few more seconds than she had planned, but in no way does she complain.

“Anything for my girl,” Dela murmurs.

It’s an exciting way to start their new life in this new home, Dela can’t deny that it’s very… them, though. She knows the rest of the night will be fun, and that Adore will animatedly tell the story of why her hand is all wrapped up with all the excitement of an eight year old. Dela loves that she knows her girlfriend so well. She loves that they trust each other so thoroughly, so deeply.

Dela has never had anyone like this in her life before, someone to take care of and someone that will gladly take care of her. Like any other couple, they need different things from each other. That’s part of why they are so perfect together. Dela is certain this is what she wants for the rest of her life. She’s certain she wants this.

Adore grins at her with love and confidence, with warm and heart, and Dela knows that this is what she wants to. It works. They work. Perfectly, just like this.

[dayasbun]

Fame - Angus Cloud (2)

Summary- a luckily timed audition leads to you falling for your new and unexpected co-star.

Warnings- okay HI welcome to my first multi chapter series woah?! this is actually so exciting for me like wow especially since angus doesn't have any fics yet im just really really excited- so warnings! smut for sure, bad words, lotsa fluff, angst- everything in one basically. here comes a ride and I hope you enjoy :)

Part 1

Part 2 {reading now}

-

You didn't do happy dances often, because usually there weren't many things that made you happy enough to dance for. But when you woke up after having the most splendid dream to an email that read:

'Hello Ms. Y/F/N Y/L/N, and thank you for applying for the role as Jess. We have reviewed your audition tape and were quite pleased with what we saw. For the next step in the hiring process, we ask that you come to the same site yet again today at 3 PM for a go through with your possible costar, without the script. If that time isn't good for you, please return this email in its entirety so that we can reschedule, and if the time sounds good we can't wait to see you today. Thank you.'

...a happy dance seemed to be necessary, right?

Your excitement bubbled as you put on a light pink crop and a pair of simple blue jean shorts. The look was overall simple- too simple for you, so you decided to top it off with a few hair-clips, a coat of lip gloss on your lips, and lastly some sweet-smelling lotion on your bare arms and legs.

It seemed as though 3 came quickly, but you made sure you were there by 2:50. 'Better to be early than late', you always told yourself. You always stuck by that.

Walking into the building with your pink jelly wedges clicking against the marble floor you signed in. To your surprise, they called you in at 2:55, earlier than you were expecting.

"Y/N! Punctual and looking gorgeous as usual," said one of the co-producers, Mary, and to your surprise she greeted you with a hug. She was the woman that showed the most hospitality to you through out the time you had been auditioning, a sweet, short little woman that smelled like this mornings coffee.

"Aw thank you, you're so sweet," you smiled letting off of the hug and readjusting the crop.

"So Angus is running a bit late, it happens a lot so feel free to sit over there with the other girls and we'll just see where this takes you guys sound good?"

You wondered how he was running late when it was only 2:57, but you just agreed with a smile and walked over to sit with a small group of girls. All of them glared at you as you sat down, so you decided to weigh out the competition.

You weren't one to judge- or you tried not to be- but god these girls were bland. No hair-clips, no lip gloss- not even a smile. Almost all of them wore the same, a white button up blouse with black slacks, black ballet flats, and kept their hair tied back with a colorful scrunchie. Blonde, with perfectly painted nails and you would bet money they had pedicures to match. There was nothing wrong with them, but they seemed to not know how to have fun from the energy they were giving off, and how boring it must be to have no fun. You honestly almost couldn't help but to feel worried though, was there a dress code in the email that you missed?

More girls began to filter in as the next 10 minutes passed, at least some of them seemed to actually have a personality.

"Okay well imma call you back, I got some business to do- oh you know it you feel me!? Nah wit' the show, like auditioning with all these girls or sum. Yeah okay bet imma call you later anyway, bye."

3:13.

"Angus, you're late." Mary spoke up with a sigh, "I don't want any excuses from you, lets kick this into high gear shall we?"

"Who was giving excuses though like... I just be cancelling my alarm, nobody got time for waking up before 2:45 anyway."

That made you laugh a bit, and apparently louder than you expected, because the whole room, Angus included turned their heads to look at you. Mary shook her head and just looked at the list she held, and you lowered your eyes to look down at the carpeting. "Alright let's start. Girls exit the room, the auditions are one on one with just us, you, and Angus to avoid pressure and judgment."

You all stood up, heading towards the door to pile out.

"Y/N, stay."

Why'd you feel like you were about to get in trouble for laughing or some shit?

You turned around and walked to the center of the room by Angus, but you didn't look up at him. You could feel him watching you and considering you had no idea what he was thinking, you hated it.

"Well you two know what to do, start when you feel comfortable. Y/N has the first line."

You turned your body towards him and looked up, he was a lot taller than you...you felt like a little person.

Before you got too flustered, you let out a shaky breath and started. "But baby, come on you can do so much more, you can- we can travel the world or some corny shit like that, that's what you always wanted to do when we were kids. You don’t have to sell, and we can bring Ash with u-"

"Yeah well we ain't kids no more. Traveling takes money, I put all I got into stuff that's actually useful. I shoulda never gotten attached to you and shit again, damn you always do this."

"Fez..." your voice softened as you remembered this part of the script: 'Jess stood on her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around Fez's neck, pulling him down to her. Fez places his hands on her waist and...'

You did as the script said and he did as well. Feeling his hands on your bare waist you looked into his eyes- they were quite gorgeous- and continued on. "You say you want me but you don't act upon it. How am I supposed to be here if you don't open up to me-"

He let go of you and rolled his eyes, "Girl I got shit to do. So you can leave if you finna do allat."

"For fucks SAKE you're- God you're just frustrating! What do you have to do? Go sell? Go talk to Mouse and risk your goddamn life again because there's a drop of blood on money that you stole?! Its so hard to love you and you don't get that!"

"Its hard to love me? Me? Come on. How hard do you think it is to love a bitch with daddy issues that wants to watch Sailor Moon every night- I hate that shit! But I watch it for you- and you just complain about your dad not loving you and how he never coming back? Well maybe you should realize that shits true and move on from it all you do is-"

Your eyes begin to fill with tears and you immediately turned to walk away but were quickly pulled back into Angus- excuse me, Fez’s chest, your back against him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean that shit."

You elbowed him in the chest- softly- causing him to groan and let go "You know you meant it. That's it Fez, I'm done." You walked away slowly ruffling your hair-

"Scene! Holyyyyyy wow that was amazing! The passion- are you guys sure you've never acted together before?"

You turned around jokingly bowing as you wiped your tears from the corners of your eyes. Angus laughed and came over to you shaking your hand. "You're good. I like yo' energy too, I hope to see you around set or sum."

You swallowed thickly, if you got this role you could not be this nervous around him everyday.

"It's not hard when I'm acting with someone so talented." You said softly, letting go of his hand after he shook it. He smiled with a chuckle "Thank you, thank you."

There was a strange tension between you two- why? You didn't know exactly, but you knew it wasn't only on your end. You thanked everyone for their time and they said they'd keep in touch. With one last glance at Angus- who had never stopped looking at you- you gave him a gentle smile and then walked out.

You rushed to the bathroom and into a stall, letting out a breath you didn't even know you had been holding in. You thought everything over, the tension, the feeling of his hands on your waist, the look of approval Mary had on her face when you two finished. You'd surprisingly never felt more confident about a role you'd tried out for, and due to that you couldn't seem to stop smiling.

[stereostevie]

A brutal childhood, a traumatic marriage, decades of racism: the singer has overcome it all on her way to the top. She lets rip about the people who have wronged her and the self-belief that sustains her.

It is a rainy Thursday afternoon and Mariah Carey is talking to me from her home in Los Angeles, her voice coming through my laptop. Is this the real life or is this just fantasy? (Sweet, sweet fantasy …) “Hello, good morning, good afternoon, this is a little unusual,” says a gravelly voiced Carey. You’re telling me, Mariah.

We are talking by video chat, but – as specified by Carey – without the video turned on, so it is pure chat. Despite her ability to hit the high notes, Carey has always described herself as an alto. Yet even taking that into account, her voice today sounds pretty husky. Is she feeling OK?

“It’s 6am here, and I’m awake in the bright light and it’s fabulous and I love it,” she says and makes an exaggerated groan.

I’m sorry you had to get up so early for this interview, I say.

“Well, darling, then let’s not book interviews at 6am if you’re worried! But please, it’s not you,” she says, and indeed it isn’t. The time and date of our interview have moved around so many times to accommodate Carey’s ever-shifting schedule that, for a while, it looked as if it wouldn’t happen at all. But at the last minute, it was decided we would talk at 6am her time, which I was promised would be fine because Carey is a self-described “nocturnal person”, so that would be 6pm for her. Alas, for reasons too complicated to get into, for one night only, Carey was a non-nocturnal person, so now 6am is just 6am.

“Typically I would have been working [all night] until now, but we had a situation and I couldn’t. Then I tried to get some sleep, but actually I watched the interview I did with Oprah. But it’s OK, it was just one night [of no sleep] and here I am,” she says. You don’t become one of the most successful singer-songwriters of all time – she has sold more than 200m records, and only the Beatles have had more US No 1 songs – without being a trouper.

Carey, 50, has spent lockdown with her nine-year-old twins, Monroe, named for Carey’s hero, Marilyn Monroe, and Moroccan, named partly for one of her favourite rooms in one of her houses, the Moroccan room, “where so many creative and magical moments have happened, including Nick presenting me with my candy bling”. Nick is Nick Cannon, the twins’ father, and “candy bling” is Carey’s term for her engagement ring, which Cannon hid inside a sweet before proposing. Carey liked Cannon’s proposal so much that she even wrote a song about it, called Candy Bling. The marriage proved less enduring and the couple divorced in 2016.

“Honestly, I don’t miss anyone outside, so I don’t care about lockdown,” she says with a throaty laugh. “But it’s difficult for the kids, because they’re used to three-times-a-year Disney World moments and stuff like that, and that’s just not the current state of affairs.” It is not. So Carey is conducting the promotional tour for her memoir, The Meaning of Mariah Carey, from her kitchen table, and if she has her way – and who would dare to argue? – this will be the last round of interviews she ever does.

“No offence to doing interviews, but what would be the point? I can’t articulate it better than I already have [in the book]. From now on, I’m like, ‘Please refer to page 29,’ you know what I mean?” she says. Carey’s deliciously shady put-downs are legend: her “I don’t know her”, when asked almost two decades ago about Jennifer Lopez is still the internet’s most beloved diss. Speaking of Lopez, her name is notably not in Carey’s memoir. Instead, when recalling the hoo-hah that led to their fallout, when a sample Carey had planned to use on her single, Loverboy, appeared on Lopez’s I’m Real, Carey refers to her as a “female entertainer (whom I don’t know).” So is her official position still that she has never heard of Lopez?

There is a pause, then stifled laughter. “Oh my gosh, can you hear that music in the background? It’s Sam Cooke! It’s fantastic!” she giggles.

Not only has Carey not heard of Lopez, she cannot even hear questions about her, it seems.

Carey’s memoir is about a lot more than score-settling (although she makes time for that, too.) “I don’t think anyone could have known where I was coming from, because I was always very, I don’t know if it was protective, but I was cryptic about the past, let’s say,” she says. No more. The youngest child of an African American father and a white mother, Carey was three when her parents split up. Her childhood was threaded through with neglect and violence, not least from her older siblings. When she was six, she says, her older brother knocked her mother unconscious; when she was 12, her older sister allegedly drugged her and left her with creepy men.

“I think my staying up all night started from having such a dysfunctional family. Oftentimes, whoever was in the house was doing whatever it was that they were doing, and that felt kinda unsafe to me, so I started staying up,” she says. Another legacy of this time is Carey’s obsessive adoration of Christmas, because her childhood Christmases were so miserable. When she wrote the monster hit All I Want for Christmas Is You, she wanted, she says in her book, “to write a song that would make me feel like a carefree young girl at Christmas”.

As a child, her biracial identity made her feel she did not belong anywhere: she was so self-conscious about not being black enough that she wouldn’t even dance, as she associated that with black culture; meanwhile, white girls at school taunted her with the N-word. In one of Carey’s – and my – favourite chapters, she describes how her mother did not know how to look after her young daughter’s textured hair, so it was often matted. Carey would look enviously at the white women in shampoo adverts on TV with their flowing hair. “I am still obsessed with blowing hair, as evidenced by the wind machines employed in every photoshoot of me ever,” she writes.

One of the most painful moments in the book comes in 2001 when Carey is having what the press described as an emotional breakdown. (Carey writes that she did not have a breakdown, but “was broken down by the very people who were supposed to keep me whole.”) During this episode, she rages at her mother, who calls the police. The police take her mother’s side: “Even Mariah Carey couldn’t compete with a nameless white woman in distress,” Carey writes. Is that how she experienced it at the time, or is that how she feels generally, that not even she is safe if a white woman complains?

There is the briefest of pauses. “Those are my words, so please refer to page 29,” Carey says.

Race is very much the running theme in Carey’s memoir. This might come as some surprise to those who know her solely from the mega pop hits such as Hero and We Belong Together, as opposed to the more revealing songs, such as 1997’s Outside, which addressed her feelings of racial ambiguity (sample lyric: “Neither here nor there / Always somewhat out of place everywhere”). “I can’t help that I’m ambiguous-looking,” she says, “and most people would assume that it’s been to my benefit, and maybe it has in some ways. But it’s also been a lifelong quest to feel like I belong to any specific group. It shouldn’t have to be such a freaking thing – and please edit out the fact that I said ‘freaking’. I’m not very eloquent right now.” I ask if she was at all influenced during the writing of her book by the rise of Black Lives Matter. She dismisses the question: “Interestingly, this book predates everything that’s happening now, and the book just happened to be very timely.” In other words, Carey hasn’t caught up to the times, the times have caught up to Carey.

Despite her omnipresence over the past three decades, it is possible that you have not thought about her ethnicity. This, Carey says, has been part of the problem: from the start, she was marketed by “the powerful corporate entities” in a way that played down her racial identity. What made this even more complicated for her was that the most powerful corporate entity in charge of her career at the beginning was her first husband, Tommy Mottola, then the CEO of Sony Music.

Carey’s discovery by Mottola is the stuff of music industry legend. The then unknown aspiring singer gave him a tape of her music at a party in 1988. Mottola tracked her down, signed her and, a few years later, married her. She was 23 and he was 44. Within just a few pages in her memoir, she goes from wearing her mother’s busted shoes to work to living in a $30m mansion with Mottola, which she decorated with enthusiasm: “Though by no stretch do I like a rustic look, I do have a preference for tumbled marble on my kitchen floors,” she writes. Adjusting to the high life was not difficult.

The hits – I’ll Be There, Emotions, One Sweet Day – were unstoppable. The Mottola-Carey marriage did not fare as well, imploding in 1997. Carey expands at some length on her previous allusions to Mottola’s controlling tendencies, claiming he would spy on her and that she was effectively a prisoner in the house. In his 2013 memoir, Mottola admits his relationship with Carey was “absolutely wrong and inappropriate” and adds: “If it seemed like I was controlling, I apologise. Was I obsessive? Yes, but that was also a part of the reason for her success.” Carey points out that she went on to have nine hit albums without Mottola’s controlling obsession. She writes that Mottola tried to “wash the urban” off her, recoiling at Carey’s increasing leaning towards hip-hop and collaborations with African American artists such as ODB. “I believe I said ‘urban, translation black,’ just in case anyone thinks I don’t know,” Carey corrects me. Does she think that was just for commercial purposes, or was something else going on with Mottola? “In my opinion there was a lot of other stuff going on there,” she says.

It must have been pretty upsetting to revisit that period during the writing, I say.

“Yes it was traumatic, but was it harder than some of the other things I’ve gone through? Maybe yeah, actually,” she says with a rueful laugh. “I don’t know if I’ll ever fully recover from the damage of that emotional abuse. But in my school of thought, you have to be a forgiving person.”

Carey is extraordinarily honest in her memoir, but the book is almost as striking for what she does not include as what she does. A lot of attention has focused on her confirmation that she did, as long rumoured, have a fling with the former baseball star Derek Jeter (“I’m not being shady, but he had on pointy shoes,” she recalls a little shadily of their first meeting.) But there is no mention of other boyfriends, such as her former fiancé, the Australian billionaire James Packer.

“If it was a relationship that mattered, it’s in the book. If not, it didn’t occur,” she says.

But you were engaged to Packer, I say.

“We didn’t have a physical relationship, to be honest with you,” she says.

And that is that.

Carey’s singing voice made her famous, but her penchant for being thrillingly, hilariously high-maintenance played its own part in shaping her legend. On an episode of MTV Cribs, she explained that she had a chaise longue in her kitchen because “I have a rule against sitting up straight”, and she has talked about bathing only in milk. Does she think she is high-maintenance – and, if so, does she think it is because she came from nothing?

“You know what? I don’t give a shit. I fucking am high-maintenance because I deserve to be at this point. That may sound arrogant, but I hope you frame it within the context of coming from nothing. If I can’t be high-maintenance after working my ass off my entire life, oh, I’m sorry – I didn’t realise we all had to be low-maintenance. Hell, no! I was always high-maintenance, it’s just I didn’t have anyone to do the maintenance when I was growing up!” she says and cackles with delight.

By now it is almost 7am for her and she is wide awake. I tell her I enjoyed all the references in her book to her enjoying “a splash of wine”.

“Oh, do you? Do you love a splash for yourself?” she asks, pleased.

I do, but I was intrigued by her description of a night out with her friends, including Cam’Ron and Juelz Santana, when they were all “high” on “purple treats”. What were these “purple treats”?

“A legal substance in California known as mari-ju-ana. It’s called purple because that’s the particular weed they liked,” she says.

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And did she like it?

“Are you enquiring for yourself or are you asking if I enjoyed it?” she says, mock coy.

I am asking if you enjoyed it, Mariah.

“No, I hated it,” she deadpans, then laughs. “I’m sorry, but it’s obvious!”

I have been interviewing famous people for a long time, but talking with Carey is the closest I have come to how I imagine it would have been to spend time with Bette Davis or Aretha Franklin. There are lots of ridiculous modern celebrities, but Carey is not like that. With her mix of slightly self-parodic ridiculousness undercut with no-messin’, true-to-herself honesty, she is a proper grande dame of the old school. A diva, in other words. It is a term she has laboured under throughout her career, and it is unlikely she will escape it, even if people now finally know where she is coming from. Does she mind the D-word?

“No! Who the fuck cares?” she laughs. “Honestly! ‘Oh my God, they’re calling me a diva – I think I’m going to cry!’ You think in the grand scheme of things in my life that really matters to me, being called a diva? I am, bitches, that’s right!”

The Meaning of Mariah Carey (Macmillan, £20) and The Rarities (Sony Music) are out now.

• This article was amended on 5 October 2020 to clarify that it is in the United States where Mariah Carey is second only to the Beatles in terms of having the most No 1 singles.

[the-blueish-trashcan]

He’s in Charge; Chapter Eleven

Pairing: Henry/Bertrum

Warnings: Death, murder, suicide

A/N: This one’s... a bit heavy, but plot intensive. It looks like Grant’s promise to make things right is going to pay off.

Chapter word count: 2,916

{First part} {Previous part} {Next part}

Chapter Eleven; Dirty Deeds

As he sat at the small table in the kitchen the next morning, Henry caught himself lost in thought as he stared out the back window, fingers drumming lightly on a warm mug of coffee. His thoughts ranged from drawings to Joey, and what could really be happening behind the scenes, and on days like this when he wasn’t scheduled to work. He was comfortable physically having borrowed clothes to sleep in from Bertrum that turned out to be loose on him, but mentally, not so. Bertrum, dressed in a gray tank top and pale blue pajama pants with slippers, stood over a pan of scrambled eggs. Just next to him, carrying out a conversation in a language Henry couldn’t understand was a man he had to assume was the designer’s personal chef watching over a pan of bacon. If nothing else, he certainly looked the part of a chef. Ferris laid at Henry’s feet, his tail quietly thumping against the floor. 

The animator sighed softly, shaking his head. His gaze shifted from the well-kept back yard and garden to his coffee cup as he took a small sip. He leaned back in his chair, still holding the cup, and threw a glance to Bertrum. The man’s back was to him at that moment, but a smile slowly made its way onto his face anyway. Even with all the chaos at work, at least right then, he had a moment for peace. 

After a few minutes, Bertrum plated the eggs, his chef moving the slices of bacon to their own plate for him to bring over. Grinning, Bertrum set a plate in front of Henry. “Here we are!” He said cheerily, taking a seat at the other side of the table.

“Thanks.” Henry’s voice came out more quiet than he intended. He set his mug down finally, instead taking up a fork. 

“Did you want to stay for the afternoon? I’m between jobs now, we could go out somewhere.”

“I don’t know. I’d like to go home and get some clean clothes, at least. Then maybe we can meet up later?”

“I can send someone out to get you a new set so you don’t have to drive back and forth, if you’d like.” Bertrum offered.

“What? Oh, no, I couldn’t have you do that, isn’t that a little excessive?” Henry waved his free hand dismissively.

“Please, it just makes sense. Unless you’d like someone to drive you to your apartment instead? If you’re just coming back in a few hours, I see no reason to send you away.” He shrugged.

Henry could only sigh. “That’s way too much effort for someone to have to put in for me, I may as well just wear the same clothes…”

“I do have a washing and drying unit, if you’d rather wash your clothes here.” Bertrum indicated a door behind Henry, pointing out where they were located. 

“Now that’s something that makes some sense. I’ll have to take up that offer, as long as you don’t mind me hanging onto these for a while.” He gave a slight smile, indicating what he was already wearing.

“Not at all. I think that’s a much better idea.” Bertrum returned the smile, then went quiet, giving them both some time to eat. They were both nearly done when he spoke again. “About what you said last night… Regarding Drew…”

Henry froze, looking up at him briefly. “I know I sound crazy… I’ve been thinking about it all morning.”

“No, Henry, you have probable cause. It may not make much sense to me, but regardless, it does seem a bit strange that so many people are gone- you said- without a real explanation, and you’re clearly suspicious of some kind of list you saw Drew keeping.” He paused and Henry nodded. “If you want me to, I really am willing to hire someone to look into it for you, but I’d like to speak with someone else first. Perhaps Drew’s accountant, you said he’s in charge of paperwork.”

“Right… I don’t see a problem with that, you could come meet him on Monday if you wanted. I’m sure he’d appreciate someone investigating, honestly.”

“All right, then.” Bertrum nodded once, then took a slice of bacon from the plate and held it down to Ferris.

*****

By the time Henry’s clothes were cleaned, dried and he was dressed, Bertrum looked like he was already ready to leave the house. He was dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, sitting at the foot of the stairs Henry was coming down to tie his shoes. He offered the animator a smile when he saw him.

“It’s a lovely day today, I thought perhaps we could take Ferris out to the park. It’s a lovely walk, and there’s plenty of shade there.” He offered, standing.

“Sure, that sounds nice.” Henry paused a few steps from the bottom, leaning on the banister. 

Bertrum shifted to face him, thinking for a moment. He gently grabbed Henry by the shoulders, shifting him to the side slightly and pulling him down one step. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Henry’s forehead, that time without having to bend down at all. “There. Ready?”

Henry let out a small laugh, his cheeks quickly turning color. He stepped down the last few stairs, on his way to the door. “Whenever you are.” 

*****

Monday, when Henry walked into the studio, the remaining staff- just under what looked like two-dozen people- were all gathered near the main entrance. They stood in front of Joey, who was still wheelchair-bound, glancing at each other nervously. As Henry joined the group himself, he noticed that he hardly recognized anyone there, save for a man named Thomas. Other than his name, he didn’t really know him. Since there was space and Thomas was fairly tall, Henry moved to stand in front of him to face Joey.

“Ah. Good, everyone’s here.” Joey started as he spotted Henry. He looked much more sickly than the last time Henry had seen him, his face a sort of gray with prominent dark marks under his eyes. His voice was much more slurred than before. “It is with a heavy heart that I have to announce the death of Grant Cohen, my accountant.”

A soft murmur went around the group. Henry could hear Thomas grunt, then sigh.

Joey continued after a moment. “As it stands right now, it is a suicide. As we speak, there is a team of investigators downstairs confirming this fact. That said, please do not go down there until further notice. Even you, Connor.”

“Okay, I get that you don’t want anyone interrupting ‘em. What about basic maintenance of the pipes down there?” Thomas’s deep, gruff voice answered from behind the animator. 

“They were very clear to me that no one is to be down there for any reason. End of story.” Joey stated more firmly. “Now… I would like to give you all some bereavement time off, but we simply don’t have time for that. Please, do your best to do business as usual.” That said, he rolled himself off down the hall, towards his office. 

“Stupid cunt.” Thomas seethed quietly, meaning Joey, obviously. 

Henry shook his head slowly, going to his desk. Grant dead? And so suddenly? “This doesn’t add up…” He mumbled. 

“Hey.” Thomas Connor’s voice came from behind him. When Henry turned, Thomas was leaning against the wall.

“Uhm, hi.” Henry tilted his head. 

“You didn’t know Grant all that well, huh?”

“No… I only met him a couple of times. He was always so nervous…”

Thomas nodded slowly, grinding a toothpick between his teeth. “I knew ‘im pretty well. Had to work with ‘im a lot.”

“Oh… I’m so sorry-” Henry started, but Thomas held up a hand.

“Don’t be. He held out for a long time. He was in a lot of pain. I’m not surprised, I’m just hopin’ he’s got some peace now.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I didn’ come here to complain, though. Grant just wanted you especially to know he’s done the right thing here. He had a plan, and it’s gonna happen.”

“What are you talking about? Did he leave a… a note or something telling you that?”

Thomas shrugged again. “Not that you’re aware of, you get me?”

It took Henry a moment to understand, a look of shock crossing his face. “You have his suicide note…? Why? Isn’t that tampering with evidence?”

“Not if he asked me to take it. There were two notes and an envelope. One had my name on it, and said to take everything before anyone else saw. Make sure it ended up with the right people. I found his body, no doubt those investigators are gonna wanna talk to me soon.”

“And… you’re going to, right?” Henry’s voice had dropped, his arms crossing over his chest.

“‘Course. I’m goin’ down there right now and then quittin’. If it works out like he wanted, it’s best to get out now before any more shit hits the fan.”

“You’re just leaving?” Henry asked, then instantly felt stupid.

“Yep, and I suggest after today, you do the same. There’s some shady things happening here, Henry, and if you value your life, you’ll get out now. Somebody’s gonna protect you when you do.” The mechanic paused. “Actually. You should come with me so somebody with the law can keep an eye on you, Drew clearly thinks you’re some kinda threat based on what Grant said. I don’ think anybody would benefit from you kicking the bucket, too.” He started down the hall and gestured for Henry to come with him.

“I can’t do that, I’m on thin ice with Joey as it is…”

“Then I’ll drop your name an’ you’ll have somebody come up and talk to you instead.” He shrugged as he rounded the corner and was gone, save for the fading sound of his heavy work boots.

*****

As promised, not even half an hour or a full sketch later, a young man dressed in a police uniform arrived to retrieve the animator and bring downstairs. The man didn’t speak to him at all on the way down, which put him on edge. Once at the foot of the stairs, Henry was escorted by a different officer across the half-finished main room and to where Grant’s office was. Not far from it, the group had set up a sort of impromptu workroom, though the area was otherwise taped off. Just the sight of the caution tape sent a shiver up Henry’s spine. Just outside of the scene, Henry was met by someone he had to assume from the more plain clothes was an investigator.

“Hello sir, sorry to bother you.” The man held out his hand. “Warren Hoss, investigator, you must be Henry Stein, right?”

Henry nodded, shaking his hand a few tentative times. “That’s me.”

“You didn’t know Grant Cohen well, did you?”

“No, sir. I only met him a few times properly.”

“Right. Well, both he mentioned you in his letter and Thomas Connor gave your name when the question of Joseph Drew came up. Any idea why?” He obviously knew, but wanted Henry to tell him himself.

“Well… From what I knew about Grant, Joey kept him on a pretty short leash and… He threatened him a lot, from what I heard, sir, and he does the same to me. Grant knew about it, and he knew I know more about Joey than most people.”

Officer Hoss nodded. “How did he threaten Grant Cohen, exactly?”

Henry bit his lip, looking around nervously. “I don’t know, really, I’m sorry.”

“You say he threatens you too. How so?”

“He… physically threatens me a lot… Constantly threatens my job. He says he wants to make my life Hell, just because he thinks I know more than I should.” Knowing better, he left out everything about Bertrum- and about Joey’s dark magic. 

Officer Hoss didn’t press for more on that on Joey’s treatment of them. “And what do you know that’s so important he’d want to ruin your life?”

“I-I can’t say for sure, but…” He glanced around again, seeing only other officers nearby. “All of these people disappearing… Joey says they’re getting fired. Grant says- er, said- they’re not, not according to his records… People don’t just disappear, sir, and Grant was really good at his job as far as I knew.”

“Are you trying to imply that these people who were fired were actually murdered?”

Henry hesitated. The idea shouldn’t be coming out like this. “I’m… not sure.”

“Do you think Grant Cohen was murdered?”

“No, sir. I think he really did do this to himself. He was scared, more than I am.”

“Do you think Joseph Drew could be capable and willing to commit a murder?”

“I believe he could be now, yes.” Henry breathed. 

“Hm.” Officer Hoss’s eyes trailed down the hall, towards Grant’s office. “You and I may be in touch if we need to know about Mister Drew. Would you write down a number we can contact you at, please?” From a pocket in the front of his shirt, he produced a small pad of paper and a pen, holding it out to Henry. 

Taking it, he began to scribble his home number on the lines, as well as his name. “Of course, of course. Have you spoken to Jack Fain? He was good friends with Grant, if his letter wasn’t enough, Jack might have known what was going on with him.”

“That’s the second time Jack Fain has been brought up. No one of that name works here anymore, according to Mister Drew.”

“Oh.” Was all Henry managed, handing the notepad back a moment later.

“Thank you for your cooperation.” Officer Hoss gave a short nod, then ducked under the yellow tape and disappeared in Grant’s office.

A sort of numbness slowly crept into Henry’s chest. The scene was surreal at best. A man he knew personally was found dead at his desk, and his boss had briefly been suspect. He shook his head and turned away, making his way back out of the area.

Only when he was crossing the ditch in the middle of the floor did he catch on to quick feet moving behind him, calling out, “Sir!”

When the animator turned, it was the young officer that had escorted him down. “I’ve been asked to walk you back upstairs, I apologize if that bothers you.” While his tone was cheery, his face didn’t reflect it.

“Oh, no, not at all!” Henry responded automatically. Then it occurred to him that it might be a good idea on the off-chance Joey was upstairs.

Just like before, the young officer was quiet, and Henry couldn’t think of anything to say.

*****

Later that afternoon, not getting any work done without meaning to, Henry’s attention was pulled to the hall at his back by the heavy bootsteps he recognized as Thomas Connor. He shifted to look before the man could speak. 

“Grant thought that Susie gal died. That’s why he did it.” Thomas stated, taking a toothpick from between his teeth.

“What?” Henry’s eyebrows went up, shocked. 

“Grant’s final letter. He said Drew killed Susie and that was the last straw. Drew’s gettin’ personally investigated. Grant had some freaky-lookin’ pictures of his office.” Thomas’s voice stayed flat. “I dunno who else to tell about it. Wally’s gone, Grant’s gone, Jack’s gone. Wally liked ya, so I guessed I should tell you. I’m leavin’ this afternoon for good b’fore anything else goes belly-up and I think you should do the same. Seriously. You can’t bail out the same way Grant did.” 

His voice hadn’t changed at all, but the distant look in Thomas’s blue-gray eyes caused Henry’s expression to become concerned. “How close were you with him, Thomas?” He asked quietly.

He shook his head, his voice slowly dropping. “Not very, but… I tried to look out for him, y’know? He wasn’t that good at takin’ care of himself. He hated workin’ here, but insisted he didn’t have a way out ‘cause of Drew. He found one, I s’pose.”

“Are you okay?” The animator tried.

“I’m in disbelief. Grant’s dead. That’s it. He’s just gone. An’ I don’t think he’s the only one that’s died here, and that scares me.” He glances at Henry, sighing and shoving his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, that’s right, I’m scared. Grown man, scared of death. Sue me.”

“I’m so sorry, Thomas. I don’t think it’s wrong for you to be scared, as far as you know your boss is seriously…”

“Deranged? Unhinged? No kidding, you didn’t see those pictures, didn’t see his blood all over the fucking place… That blood’s on Drew’s hands!” Noticing that his voice is rising, he takes a deep breath and lets it out heavily. “Sorry. I don’t mean to put my grief on you, you’re in his situation now. Please be careful.”

“No, no, it’s okay. I-I understand, you’re in pain. It’s alright.”

Thomas nodded. “Be careful.”

“I will. I’ll watch out.”

“Good. Good.” He placed the toothpick  back between his teeth, turning on his heel and shuffling away. 

The whole conversation left Henry with an ache in his heart, and the idea in his head that Thomas was right. He had to get away, but he needed to know just what happened to the rest of his friends. He doubted the police would be saying anything about it, anyhow.

[angrylizardjacket]

a process {John Deacon}

Anon asked: Could you write something where reader (possibly in the band) and deaky are totally in love with each other but both are too shy to say anything and oblivious to see the others feelings but at the end the get together and it’s 100% fluff? Thank u sm your fics are gold

A/N: 3169 words. If I recall, some people wanted some Deaky fic?? He’s so lovely and this was a lot of fun to write!! Again, this is the BoRhap!Deaky. Also I wrote half of this at work; this is university funded fic ladies and gentlemen.

“Alright, boys, jus’ letting you know we’ve got a new intern in today; Y/N, she’s going to be shadowing me.” The sound designer, Earl, a skinny gentleman who always seemed to be wearing black, denim shorts no matter the weather, announces your arrival over the microphone to the recording studio where the band was discussing what song to practice next. In the next moment, you have four pairs of eyes all watching you through the glass of the sound studio, and you give a nervous wave back.

“Hello.” You offer, awkwardly, and Earl leans in to the microphone on the desk.

“She says hello.” He informs the others, and you feel like an idiot. Fortunately, the men all wave back, giving quick greetings of their own, before going back to their discussion.

“They’re good.” Earl, pulled up a spare chair for you by the desk, checking the levels as they started up on a new song. From anyone else, the words would sound like a mild compliment at best, but from Earl, who you’ve known practically forever, he was a friend of the familys’, and he did not shy away from complaining about the ‘teeny bopper drivel’ he had to make sound half-decent, you knew it was closer to a round of applause.

“Intern? Does that mean you get us drinks?” They’re actually recording now, one at a time, while the rest of them lounged around on the other side of the room with you. You’re perched on the edge of your chair by the sound desk when the drummer, Roger, speaks to you. Their lead singer, Freddie was at that moment, currently in the recording studio, crooning into the microphone with his headphones on, and it takes you a moment to turn and consider what he had said.

“I mean… yeah, I guess?” Looking to Earl to either confirm or deny the request, he’s focused on the sound desk, just waves you off with a distracted affirmation. A grin stretches over Roger’s face.

“Bourbon, thanks.” And his grin only got wider at your sudden confusion.

“Water for him.” Pipes up the bass player, John, sitting against the wall with his ankles crossed, smiling up at you. “And one for me too, if it’s not too much trouble.” Relieved, you smiled back at him despite Roger’s protests. “You want anything, Bri?” John asked their guitarist, and you ended up getting drinks for everyone. Thankful that they kept fresh bottles in the break room, you returned as Freddie stepped out of the sound booth, and his recording was played back. His smile was stiff as you handed him a water bottle, though it was probably because he was trying to concentrate on the playback of his vocals than any malice towards you. Roger accepted the drink begrudgingly, and Brian smiled at you.

“I’m John, by the way.” Holding out his hand to you, you bent down to shake John’s hand where he was still sitting on the floor.

“I know,” you answered automatically, though he could see the regret on your face as soon as you said it, “I mean, we can hear you guys from in there, talking and everything,” you tried to explain yourself, still shaking his hand. After a long moment silence, he’s still looking at you with a bewildered, but pleasant smile. “I’m Y/N.” You finally manage.

“I know.” And he’s grinning at you, amused as you finally retract your hand to cross your arms over your chest. “You were introduced.” Pointing at Earl, you followed his gaze to the sound desk and the glass window, through which you could see Freddie setting up for another take.

“I’m Roger.” Roger offers from the side, and he seems to be splitting his focus between you and the singer.

“He’s Roger.” John muttered, much more quietly. How he was able to verbally communicate a fond eye-roll, you may never know.

“What does this one do?” Three weeks into your three month internship, and you’re minding the desk while Earl’s on break, slapping away John’s hands as he tries to get near the buttons.

“I don’t know.” You laughed for the fourth time in a row, pushing his hands gently from the desk.

“This one makes things loud, right?” His fingers edge towards one of the faders and you can see the grin he wears as he watches your expression closely, deciding if you’re going to slap him away from it again. The others have gone to get lunch and he’s keeping you company. He’s been doing that a lot recently, and you wouldn’t say you minded. John’s good company, unexpectedly sharp, and he always seems happy to see you.

“You probably shouldn’t touch that one; it’s for your bass.” You raised your eyebrows at him, lips twitching as you repressed a smile, watching him retract his hand to fold it in his lap.

“So that one’s for the bass, but what about the others?” He asked, nodding to the other faders, and you shrugged.

“Not sure.” Your response only made him smile wider.

“But you know which one the bass one is?” He asked, and you let yourself smile at him, a little more mischievous than was strictly necessary.

“Maybe I just told you that so you wouldn’t touch it.” There’s an unspoken challenge in your words, and his fingers danced along the bottom of the soundboard, just below where the masking tape labels for the faders have all worn away. There’s a moment, he’s hovering over one that looks like it’s labelled ‘Mic 2’ and you’re hand is already raised ready to knock him back, when the door bursts open and the others all spill in.

“Alright, out of my seat.” Earl pulls the rolling chair back with you still in it, and you obligingly hop out. “You didn’t touch anything, did you?” He asked, just like he had every single time since he’d first trusted you to look over it while he was gone.

“Yeah, Deaky, did you-” Roger’s wearing a shit-eating grin, but the bass player has hopped out of the seat that usually belongs to you, to make a beeline for the recording studio.

“Oh shut it, Rog,” he snaps, and though you can’t see the blush rising on his cheeks, he knows it’s there. “No.” He adds, and Roger’s exaggerated eye-roll, and the comment he had made, make you blush also, but you’re not entirely sure why, or at least, you won’t admit to yourself why.

“Okay, take, uh, take six? Take six of Killer Queen’s bass.” You stumbled over your words while speaking over the microphone into the recording booth where John waited with headphones on. He gave you a thumbs up, which you missed, searching for the button to play back the other accompaniment into his headphones. After a moment of fumbling, Earl pointed the button out to you, giving you a longsuffering smile as the music began to play back. The other band members quietly discussed the logistics of the song as you watched Earl gently adjust the sound levels every few moments. Sparing a glance to John through the glass, you get a little lost for a moment, watching his intense concentration as he worked his way through the song. He had an intensity about him, the utmost concentration that made you not want to look away. Finishing without a single note missed, he looks up to see you looking back at him, a little starry-eyed, and he grins back.

“Wow.” You breathe, before turning bright red, feeling someone over your shoulder.

“She thinks it’s great.” Freddie pressed down the button, speaking into the microphone by your shoulder. John chuckled fondly, a little flush.

“I- yeah, thank you.” After a beat, he recomposed himself. “And you guys?” His gaze finally moved from your face to look over the others, who were all looking at either you or John smugly. Freddie stepped back from the console, crossing his arms over his chest with a smile as he looked between you two.

“She’s right.” Roger called from the sofa, splayed across it, partially leaning against Brian. After a beat, John gave him a confused look, tapping at the headphones. “Oi, tell ‘im.” Roger urged you, and tentatively you pressed the microphone button, leaning in to it.

“They agree.” And you watch him let out a sigh of relief as he goes to put his bass on it’s stand, making room for Brian to step in and start with his section. When he comes back into the room, John makes a beeline for the sofa, only to find Roger’s laid himself across it horizontally, taking up as much room as he possibly could.

“Sorry, mate.” The drummer grins, clearly not sorry at all. Even Freddie, who usually didn’t go in for this sort of stuff, was using the armrests of the armchair he had draped himself in, giving the bass guitarist a knowing smile, and a sly look to where you were receiving a quiet lesson faders from Earl as Brian began making sure his guitar was in tune.

“You’re doing really good,” John muttered to you from where he leaned against the wall close to the sound desk. You’d just called to start the guitar track and he was keeping his eyes on his bandmate. Startled, you slid the headphones from your ears where you were listening to make sure Brian was hearing the same thing you were.

“What?” Voice quiet, you looked up at John, and he finally looked away from Brian, smiling fondly at you.

“The whole intern thing, you’re doing really well.” And the resulting smile you gave him made you glow with pride. You’d been so worried that it had seemed like you were stumbling through your tasks, because, well, at times you were, but even a slight affirmation had you thrilled. After a beat, you tried to school face into something more serious as you tried not to let the embarrassing crush on him that had developed over the past few weeks show. He was a musician and you were an intern, and it was just a little bit of a hero-crush, nothing to get too serious about. But he was smiling back at you, and it just made you feel warm; it didn’t have to be a bad thing if you didn’t let it.

Once the album is done, you still actually manage to see them around, at least for the first few weeks. You’d actually managed to score a job as an assistant from the internship, and they were in often discussing the plans of their tour. Every time they spotted you in the halls, the others would conveniently vanish the moment John asked how you’d been. It hurt a little, to think about how you wouldn’t see them, see him, for a few months, or perhaps even a year, but you thought perhaps it would be a good thing, letting your little crush die.

“I’ll really miss working with you.” But then he had to go and say that, smiling in that way that made everything seem alright, and he wrapped an arm around you in a hug. He’s not usually a tactile person, from what you’ve gathered, and it takes a moment for you to find your voice.

“I’ll miss,” the words get stuck in your throat a little, “working with you too.” He gives you a comforting squeezes, and you’re not sure what to do about the way your heart beats a little faster, so you let him leave. He hesitates for a moment, seems like he doesn’t want to go, or has something to say. You see something in his smile, maybe a little sadness, maybe something else you can’t quite place, and you both know it’ll be a while before you see each other again.

“Is Y/N going to be here?” John’s bopping slightly to the beat in his head as he watches Earl set up the sound equipment on the farm.

“She’ll be here tomorrow.” Earl doesn’t look up from his job while Roger yells at the same time, from the other room.

“No distractions!” And it’s accompanied by the thwap of Roger’s slipper hitting the glass of the window to the sound room, but he’s grinning at the bassist from where he’s sitting behind his drums. John refuses to read into that.

It’s been almost six months since you’d seen each other, and you’d jumped at the opportunity to join Earl and the boys a the farm, even if it is in the middle of nowhere, and you’d be sleeping on a sofa for a week. You arrived at the tail end of their stay, once the music was written, all that was left to do was record it.

He’s waiting out the front of the house, perched on the brick wall and eyeing off a large chicken who looked like it was ready to spook him, when Earl pulls up with you in the front seat.The noise of the van is enough to send the chicken scrambling in the other direction, but John waved at you, and there it was, that feeling in your chest that you’ve been trying to bury for six whole months practically leaping to life as you step out to hug him in greeting.

“Oi, Y/N, settle an argument for us.” When you walk into the kitchen in the morning, Brian is smiling despite the fact that he’s got bacon in his hair, Roger is hunched over eating the rest of the bacon, at least what wasn’t scattered on the floor, from the pan and refusing to share, and John was just smiling blithely into his coffee.

“What do you think of when you hear the phrase, ‘I’m in love with my car’.” John asked, not looking away from where Roger was glowering.

“Is it a nice car?” You asked, easily making your way around the kitchen to fix yourself breakfast, ignoring the way Roger perked up at the question.

“Like as a song, what do you think?” John’s smile as catty as you’ve ever seen it. When you ask what happened to the coffee pot as it lay on it’s side sink, John hands over his mug without hesitating, still waiting on your response.

“Well... is it a metaphor?” You asked, squinting between the three of them. After a beat, Roger slams the frypan on the table and throws his hands in the air.

“Yes, see she gets it!” And you’re pretty sure you’re on the wrong side of the table as John shakes his head.

“So you metaphorically are in love with your car?” You asked, rounding the bench to join John and Brian, who were now actively stifling laughter as Roger’s face fell. Resting against the bench by John, you’re close enough that he can lean his head against your shoulder in solidarity, taking back his coffee and having a pointed sip as your words set Roger off on another rant. If you lean into it a little, he doesn’t seem to mind, in fact, you don’t see it, but his smile widens.

When you hear John banging on the door of the farmhouse after you’ve finished helping pack everything up and Earl’s already locked everyone else out of the sound room for the rest of the night, it’s a shock.

“Tell her!” You can hear Roger’s shout on the other side of the door as John knocks louder.

“You really should just tell her.” Unexpectedly, even Freddie seems to agree with the drummer, though John shouts that he’ll catch his death of cold if they don’t let him in soon.

“Be an adult, John!” Brian tries to placate the bassist from the other side of the door where they’ve all teamed up against him. “Just tell her.”

“Be an adult?!” John parrots back, just before you get to them.

“Tell me what?” That shut them all up quick, and even before he turns to face you, you can tell he’s bright red. “I mean, I’m the only ‘her’ for what feels like a few hundred kilometres.” Smiling with confusion, you look to the door, and then to John. Someone whispers ‘tell her’.

“I want to see you again.” John lets the words tumble out into the world, hands out and open in front of him in some sort of ‘ta-da’ gesture, before looking over his shoulder. “Can I come back inside now?” 

“What? No.” You can hear Roger’s baffled expression in his words, and it’s joined by a hum of agreement from Freddie.

“He’s right, Deaky, that was a terrible declaration of lov-” John’s pulling you away by the elbow before you could hear the rest of Freddie’s statement, though you got the general gist of it.

“You know what, maybe we’re better off out here.” He huffs, unable to look at you as he tugs you towards the wall.

“Slow down, slow down.” Once at the wall, you tug free from his grip and lean against it, watching him fidget. “You like me?” You asked, half smile forming on your lips.

“We’re not high schoolers, Y/N.” He tried dodging the question with a self-deprecating smile. Taking a step forward, you finally got him to look at you. “You know, it was weird, caring about you so much after only three months.” He admitted, studying your features with an intensity you had only seen him get around music, it made you feel like the only person in the world that mattered in that one moment. “It was weird, looking up on stage and not seeing you in the crowd.” He paused for a moment. “And I don’t want that to be our only interaction, just recording music together, I wanna take you take you to all the sights I got to see, but just... just because I want to see them with you.” When his gaze dropped, it felt as if the moment had passed, but you didn’t want to leave it just yet. Gently, you took his hand, and when his eyes met yours, you were smiling, a bit pink in the cheeks, but so obviously full of joy.

“I’d like that,” and after a beat, you moved in to press a kiss to his lips, soft and chaste. “I missed you... so much more than I thought I would.” You chuckled softly, moving back just a little. “I honestly thought you wouldn’t-”

“No, I did.” He looked away, a little embarrassed, and you could see the flush of his cheeks. “The, uh, the boys will attest to that.” He admitted, and that’s when you remembered, feeling the biting chill of the night air finally begin to hit you.

“Do you think they’ve unlocked the door?” You asked, looking over his shoulder. His expression fell as the two of you began to walk hand in hand back to the farmhouse.

“It doesn’t actually lock, they were just all leaning against it.”

[cannibalisticshadows]

Nightcall (2/2)

[ao3 Link] .    [Part One]

Megamind drops out of the media. Though the media doesn’t drop him.

The spike in his frequent fights with Metro Man has done a complete 360, much to the relief of the locals and to the disappointment of tourists. The news and media alike have leaped onto his sudden change like scavengers to fresh offal. Talk of his recent rendezvous, or lack thereof, are on everyone’s mind.

“He’s a maniac,” some talk-show host said into the speaker, hunched over a desk looking quite aggressive. The screen of the television baths the blue alien in a dull electronic glow illuminated his reflective eyes. He frowns at the person but having no good point to disagree. He’s just offended someone would be so bold to jump into the obvious.

“He’s a maniac, and Metro Man has been taking his sweet-ass time in trying to bring this alien-fuck down. Sure, sure, all-righteous and no-killing and what not. I’m sorry but he’s just pious.” Not just ballsy, but controversial. “My only guess as to why Megamind has abruptly vanished like a phantom is because our city’s hero finally grew a pair and kicked his skinny blue ass into the next life. And by God will none of us miss him. Look at what a shit-show he’s turned this city into—“

Megamind turns the TV off by throwing the remote so hard that it shatters the screen.

Sighing, he crawls out of his little nest of blankets and decides it’s time. He’s been procrastinating enough; he’s done nothing for the past two weeks and it’s getting to his head.

His plan to tell Roxanne started out sounding like the only resort to fixing him and his dumb extraterrestrial make-up, but he’s been pushing it off since he got home the last time he broke out of prison. Who knew he could really raise some hell by simply doing nothing.

Roxanne has made few appearances on television since her last kidnapping. Sadly enough, due to his absence, she had little to do (at least, to the public eye). She was the main reporter, focusing on Metro City’s star inhabitancies. Metro Man had nothing much to do besides helping little old ladies or getting cats from trees—not worthy of making an emergency announcement on the news.

And since he hasn’t seen her, he’s going into such a stump he’s made several near attempts to just show up at her place with no spray. How would she respond?

Well, he’d find out tonight.

He filled the invisible car up with his home-made energy source, making sure it wouldn’t run on empty. Tonight he was going out, far enough to reach the boonies.

And he wouldn’t be alone.

Megamind, unsure of how she’d react but knowing this would be practically life or death for him, grabbed a few essentials. The de-gun. Knock-out spray. Rope. You know. The usual. This had to go as smooth as possible for him to get serious with her, to assure her he’d never bother her again as long as he got this off his chest so he could wallow in misery with a peace of mind.

So, making sure she’s home with the affirmation from one of his spy-bots, Megamind packs up his things in the car and zooms out of the Lair before Minion can so much as ask “Where are you going, Sir?”

When he gets to her building, he uses a brainbot to fly him up to her balcony. She never locks it (Oh, Roxanne, I do question your sanity sometimes), so when he pushes the glass doors open, he enters a relatively quiet domain.

The lights over her tiny kitchen are on, illuminating her one-person apartment. Sniffing, and catching the remnants of her perfume, he follows it until—

“Mega—“ Before he gives her time to even finish saying his self-given name, he whips around and gives her a reasonably large dose of spray. She gasps, eyes roll up, and her body drops in a dead weight. Flinging out an arm he catches her, unable to keep his hungry eyes from the expanse of her pale, bare neck. Megamind splays his fingers across her bare, marveling at seeing her for the first time in weeks. It’s been too long.

Tonight she’s wearing civvies. A pair of dark wash skinny jeans and a white peasant blouse with little red and blue flowers along the neck and sleeves. She’s missed a barber appointment, he thinks, as her hair is exactly two centimeters longer than usual. Her hair’s also a bit damp, curling ever so slightly at the very ends. She not wearing makeup, either, letting him see all of her little brown freckles dusting her cheeks, like little stars in a milky white setting. He licks his lips.

Megamind ties her wrists and covers her mouth with a cheap duck tape. He’s never taped her mouth shut before, but for once he doesn’t want her screaming or complaining. And despite every Hollywood movie where the bad guy tapes the victim’s mouth shut, it’s very possible to remove it without the use of hands.

He carries her out bridal style, whistling for the brainbot to bring him back to the car. Once on the ground, he tucks her into the passenger seat and pulls the belt on, all before getting in himself.

And then he drives. He drives for a long time, content for the moment to sit in silence beside the soft rumble of the car’s engine.

Swerving through Metro City’s night traffic, the city lights gleaming in this never sleeping place, he keeps his head low as he goes, so stressed he finds himself clutching the wheel so hard it threatens to snap. The leather of his gloves scrunches.

They (he; she’s still knocked out) drive out of the midnight city into the rolling countryside, past the lake and past the forests. Lush green hillsides and vast farm lands. He can hear the road scratch under the car tires as asphalt turns into gravel and dirt.

After about forty minutes of driving, he can tell Roxanne is beginning to stir. Quickly, he pulls up beside a huge oak tree in the middle of no where, and void of another living soul for miles.

Well. There is a cow outside but it’s like, ten feet away minding its own business.

As the car comes to a stop, he turns the key and all is instantly quiet.

With a soft grunt, Roxanne squirms in her seat and consciousness slowly comes to. He doesn’t watch her, choosing to star at his bony knees and twiddle his thumbs. All he can hear is her movements, and his own rapidly beating heart.

“M…Mmm?” Her eyes slowly open, blinking in the dim atmosphere. Her eyes then open wider, and she looks around for the usual sights of a kidnapping. Seeing as they’re only in the car, and her mouth is taped, she abruptly begins to struggle.

“Wait!” He says frantically, trying to calm her like one would do for a wild horse. “It’s okay! This isn’t a kidnapping! Well, technically it is but it’s just us—“

“MMM!?” She starts to work her mouth through the tape in earnest, tongue visibly trying to lick at the stickiness.

“Please, wait! This is—I just want to tell you something. Something… important. I promise on my ancestors that you have full permission and more to beat me outside but… please. Just listen to me. Please, Miss Ritchi.”

Her struggling stops, and she turns to him with a suspicious glare. He bows his head, flushing in shame. She hates me.

Though she’s trapped him under an intense stare, snaring him more than he had with her, Roxanne goes still as if awaiting for whatever stupid thing he’s got to say to her.

“I… want to apologize, for my behavior two weeks ago. It was unforgivable.”

“Mm.”

“But—I… I…”

She glares harder. Ashamed of himself, he turns his stare to the dashboard.

“I love you.”

He doesn’t look up to catch her reaction, but she doesn’t respond verbally.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.” He bangs his forehead against the steering wheel with each confession, feeling all the pint up emotions in him pouring out like water from a broken dam. It burns his insides with glorious relief and bittersweet shame all at once. Yet it keeps flowing. “And I’m so, so sorry. It’s—not my choice, Miss Ritchi. I can’t help it. My b-body…Ah—s—“ he stutters, so anxious it’s close to making him piss himself. He can feel it claw at this throat, threatening tears. “My species… we d-don’t have crooches, like a human. We… fall in love. Hard. And once. Only once. Once and only with one person. And that’s it. We mate for life, like doves. Or beavers. Wolves. I-It doesn’t matter. But once the relationship is formed that’s it. Cheating or finding a second love if the other leaves or dies is purely an earthly concept. My own p-parents, they—they only had eyes for each other. Sex or romance wasn’t even a concept I understood before I met y—…. I didn’t chose you, Miss Ritchi. I didn’t want this to happen. You don’t deserve this. I’ve already turned your life into a living hell, and for that I cannot apologize enough, even onto my grave. My transgressions are unforgivable. Yet, even being here on Earth I cannot…. There is no place for me. My planet, it’s… I’m all that’s left. And Minion. I didn’t think I could possibly imprint on anyone, much less a human, in this way. Yet… I am so sorry. It’s all my fault. I should have known…”

She’s fidgeting ever so softly beside him, he hears the crinkle of the tape.

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until he takes in a staggering breath, wet tears rolling down his sharp face and trickling on his lips. Salty like the sea.

He can’t bring himself to speak again in fear of weeping like a damn baby, but he feels as vulnerable as one in the moment. Weak. Childish. Pathetic.

The car falls into a silence, with his shaky breaths and a light breeze rolling against the windows. Other than that, it’s as quiet as a void. He glances at her from the corner of his eye, and sees her staring outside at the cow as if it had done something personal to disrespect her.

They sit in silence for a long time.

“I’m done,” he suddenly says.

He hears her move around again.

“I’m… I’m done. With this business,” he gestures to himself in general, to the car, to his gun. “I mean, there are things you don’t know about. Things I’ve done behind cameras. In the underworld. I’ve committed enough sins to last multiple lifetimes over. There’s blood on my hands. Miss Ritchi. Like you wouldn’t believe. And… I’m going to give it up. I can’t keep doing this…

“This such a archaic concept for me. Aah, uh, did you know… Of course you wouldn’t… The males, sometimes even the females, of my kind have to… catch the other sometimes. To express that they feel the same way. Avoids miscommunication or misplaced feelings. My own father… had to sneak into my mother’s household as teenagers to propose to her. It’s—I didn’t even realize it until recently I was courting you! Unconsciously! I’m—God I’m so sorry, Miss Ritchi. I just need to go away. “

She lets out a muffled sound again.

“I’m moving from this place,” he looks around at the vast farmland, the dot of the city in the distance, reflected by his rear-view mirror. “Romania sounds nice. I do a lot of business over there. Lots of forests and hillsides where there’s no one for miles. I can’t bother you or anyone out th—”

Roxanne suddenly spits.

Looking over to her in surprise, he sees she has vanquished the duck tape and has rolled it up in her mouth to spit it onto the dashboard. Turning on one hip, she faces him with such a glower it chills him to the very bone.

“Don’t. You. Dare,” she hisses.

He shrinks in his seat.

“Don’t you dare drop this on me and say you’re just gonna leave!” She yells, pulling against her taped wrists. He opens his mouth to let out a string of never ending apologies, but—she’s starting to cry, he sees, much to his absolute horror. Has he truly upset her this bad? He really was a monster.

“How—you stupid, stupid man,” she cries out, and suddenly—he sees her raise her arms, still taped by the wrist, and he honestly thinks he’s about to be hit when—

She loops her arms around his big blue head and latches onto his neck, yanking him closer and making him clumsily fall onto the stick shift as—

Her mouth is on his. So hard do their mouths come together that their teeth clack, faces clashing together he barely has time to process what’s happening. Gasping, hands wild and unsure in the air as she seemingly tries to suck his soul out, but—he knows what’s happening, mildly, but a bigger part of him is convinced he’s dreaming or hit his head.

The feeling of her lips touching his, though, is electrifying. Every nerve in his body begins to sing and scream all at once, overwhelming him with a sensation override. She moans and presses closer, both of them awkward and clumsy as they clutch at the other from opposite seats. Clutched… he feels his hand involuntarily grab her waist, holding his close but terrified he’s mixing the signals. It feels so so so good, though, and—

She pulls away before he can even realize he was responding back, albeit unsurely. Arms locked around his neck, he mentally curses himself for tying her up. But. It felt like the thing to do at the time.

“You listen to me you son of a bitch,” she viciously spats. “You come to my place, ten’o’freakin’clock at night, and tell me you love me only then to say you’re leaving? What the actual hell!?”

He attempts to pull back, hide in his shell, run away from her furious reprimand, but his neck is still trapped by her arms. Shit. Really a bad decision to tie her up. The alien’s prepared to say something, anything, to show how much of a lowly creature he is in her light, but all that comes out of his throat are choked warbles and whimpers. “I—“

She sniffles.

He meets her eyes in surprise to see two glassy blue orbs meeting his. Frantically, he try to console the weepy female by nervously patting her back. “Ah—M-Miss Ritchi—“

“You were such an A-hole,” she says, sobbing. “Megamind, for once you were actually cruel. It scared me.”

“Oh, oh my dear—No, no, my sweet, no! I wasn’t—“ he swallows. “I wasn’t trying to be cruel. I was just frustrated. With myself. With my instincts. I—if I behaved any less I would have made a fool of myself.”

“Well, you already did that by yelling at me, you cabbage.”

“I-I’m sorry.”

“You made me feel like a whore the last kidnapping.”

He remembers that dress she wore. Wine red, rimmed in black. His... comment to it. Megamind bows his head and clenches his whole body. “I am sorry.”

“And you made me worry about you. I haven’t seen you in weeks.”

Confused, he looks up at her. Roxanne then pulls at her arms and lets him go from between them. Gesturing with her wrists, he catches her drift and pulls out his trusted butterfly knife and whips it out, glad to have something to do with a tool he’s familiar with. Nothing else felt familiar; alien and strange.

As the plastic finally rips away, her skin safe from his sharp little friend, she wraps her hands around his neck and yanks him to her again. Eyes wide, he numbly feels her kiss him a few quick, consecutive times before—

She slaps him in the chest.

He’s nearly got a concussion from how bad the whiplash is.

“Is it true?” Roxanne demands. He’s unable to speak. “Is it true? Do you love m—“

“Yes. Yes, I love you. A million times over.”

This little woman shakes her head, eyes glistening with something he can’t begin to understand. He feels like he’s drowning, with a weight tied to his feet to prevent him to swimming to the surface. He can't breath. She then grabs onto his shoulders. Shaking her head again, she says, “Then don’t go to Romania. Don’t leave Metro City. This place is our-your home.”

“Miss Ritchi, I can’t… stay around you anymore,” his voice breaks. “I can’t without—“

Her lips are on his again.

Shocked, but rapidly trying to learn this new skill she’s apparently trying to teach him, he responds as best he can. Periwinkle blue to unpainted pink, their lips press against each other, seining the warmth and the wet of the other’s mouth. He once saw this activity between lovers an unsanitary and strange thing, but now he understands its meaning. His lips are quite sensitive, and this kissing sets his body to flame, scrambling towards something he can’t seem to catch.

When she pulls away, he follows her, not wanting this connection to end. A tiny bead of saliva snaps between them as their lips depart.

“For such a genius, you can be unbelievably dense.” She cups his face. “I love you Megamind."

What.

"God, I love you. And your behavior, this month—I thought you’d finally lost it. Or just got tired of me.”

His first instinct is to respond yes, yes he has lost it, completely and utterly, but—

“You—you what—“

Roxanne shakes her head again, this time smiling so wide that it nearly reaches her ears, all pearly whites on display for him. She lets him go, finally, letting him think straight. Which is bad because his brain runs in about five hundred directions. Blinking rapidly to disperse the tears in her wet lashes, she continues with, “I’m glad you told me this. Because—I was considering on moving as well.”

He jolts in his seat.

“I sometimes get job offers in other places. This time… I had an offer in Liverpool.”

“Leeverpul!? What’s can you find in Leeverpul?”

“I like the British accent. And it’s far, far away from here.”

Hapless, he stares at his knees.

“Hey,” she pulls him out of his stupor. “Look at me. That’s better. Now. That stuff you said about… imprinting on me? Is that true, too?”

“All of it,” he breaths.

Roxanne nods her head and leans back against the leather seats. “Then listen to me. I love you with all of my heart. I have for a long time, Megamind. So it hurt me, so, so much with how much of a dick you were suddenly turning into. You may as well have stabbed me in the heart.” He winces. “And then you just up and vanished. Gone. Everyone is talking about you!”

He can’t believe what she’s saying. It’s nothing like he ever imagined happening in any probable outcome of this. She… actually… returned his feelings? What??? What witchcraft is this!? He really must’ve bumped his head hard!

“I... know. I see the news. I see my lack of an appearance in the public eye has given you less work… Ah, are you sleeping better?”

She looks at him in confusion.

“You were always falling asleep.”

Roxanne lets out a loud sigh. “I know… I know…”

“Why.” It isn’t a question.

“I always thought you were just a bit ol’sweetheart that grew up on the wrong side of the law. I fall in love with you a little harder every time you goof around like that. I hate that you’re always destroying something or trying to start a fight, but it was a little endearing.” She lets out another loud exhale. “And then you started acting like I was shit under your shoe.”

“N—!“

She raises a hand, and he immediately goes silent.

"So I started drinking. Tried to drink the pain away. But that doesn't work," her voice breaks a bit.

He wants to bang his head against the wall.

“And I hate that you dragged me out here,” she motions toward the countryside. “You don’t have to ship yourself off to God knows where, but stopping the kidnapping would be nice. Even if it’s apart of your… culture.”

“Whatever-Whatever you desire," he swears reverently.

“What I desire,” she says, placing a hand on his knee, “is for you to take me home.”

He nods, expecting that answer.

“And I want you to come up with me. We’re gonna have a talk.”

“O-kay...?”

Suddenly she leans over again and presses his lips to his cheek. With his breath hitching, because its still a lovely, foreign feel to him, she adds, “And then I’m going to show you how much I love you, too.”

“W—“

“I know you, Megamind. I can see it in your face. Now. Take us home, sweetheart.” She kisses his lips again.

This time he knows what to do, and copies her actions better than before. It feels like fireworks.

He’s glad he told her.

[askjaaryl]

Episode #009: The Road to Richmond (Part 3)

The boys scope out a new foe and make plans for the future before returning to the Hilltop and reuniting with their family.

The next morning, Aaron woke up first, like he always did. Before, during the war, it was always Daryl who woke up first. He’d hear him get out of bed and get ready for the day before the sun even came up...but now, he was more relaxed.

More domesticated, in a way.

Aaron liked to be productive in the morning though, so he went to the bathroom, put on his arm, and headed out to the gate with Dog, to make sure it held. Once he was done with that, he went to the community’s kitchen and grabbed some breakfast for himself, along with some for Paul and Daryl (granola bars and coffee for Daryl, fruit and coffee for Paul...Paul didn’t like granola very much, he always complained it got stuck in his teeth), then headed back to their room, Dog following behind him.

When he got back into the room, Paul and Daryl were awake but...occupied with each other. He chuckled and jokingly put his hand over Dog’s eyes, “Please, there are innocent eyes in the room.”

“Tell him to look away then and come join us,” Paul purred. The long haired man was straddling Daryl’s hips, continuously grinding down on them as the two made out. He’d only pulled away to briefly talk to Aaron, before they were kissing again.

Aaron rolled his eyes and took out Dog’s portable bowl from their bag and put some of his dog food in it for his breakfast, before he got on the bed as well.

When he got a closer look, Daryl’s pupils were big as he looked at Paul, then over to him. He was breathing heavily and had developing hickies down his neck.

If Aaron was braver, he would have told Daryl how wrecked he looked by Paul.

Instead, he opted to lean down and nip at his neck, “You having fun, babe?”

Daryl nodded, still breathless. His hips jerked up to reach one of Paul’s thrusts down, “He’s gonna be the death ‘a me,” he gasped out to Aaron.

“Not if we have anything to say about it “ Aaron laughed weakly, considering to kiss down his neck and shoulder.

Just as Paul went to reach for the waist of Daryl’s pants, a knock at the door came. Paul groaned and fell down, resting his forehead against Daryl’s.

“Yeah?” Aaron called, laughing at the two.

“Hey, it’s Eleanor,” she called, “One of our scouts came back and said they found the Free Men camp. We’re about to send a team out to see, wanna join before you leave?”

“Yeah,” Paul said immediately, “Just let us get dressed,” he said, brushing Daryl’s hair from his face.

“We’re leaving in twenty!” she called cheerfully before walking away.

Daryl huffed in annoyance, “Was supposed to just be a supply drop.”

“A supply drop and a community check,” Paul said, hopping off of him and pulling his hair up in a bun, “It’s the least we can do. Besides, if they traveled far enough, they could reach our communities. It’s best to have the intel we need now.”

Daryl groaned in frustration and got up as well.

“You’re just mad you didn’t get your dick sucked,” Paul smirked at him, causing Aaron to choke on the air he was breathing at his boyfriend’s bluntness.

“I’m not surprised they found us,” Javi explained, “They’re not even that far from our camp, they’re just outside of the city.”

Paul sighed, “Personally, I don’t believe in making a move on them if they don’t make a move on you first,” he said quietly, “It’s been one of our biggest mistakes in the past. But they way they held you up…” he trailed off, “Javi, you don’t have the provisions for a war. Maybe it’s time to move. Your community could join the council, if you were closer.”

“You think so?” Javi asked.

Paul nodded, “Rick would gladly welcome you, I’m sure. He knows all about you. We could help you work on a settlement too,” he explained, “And it would be nice to have you less than a hundred miles away,” he laughed weakly.

“Eleanor and I will discuss it and get back to you,” Javi told him, “But, uh...keep an eye out for some real estate for us,” he added.

“Will do,” Paul said, giving him a half smile as they approached a hill that overlooked their camp.

They all crouched down, while Daryl stayed behind them, out of view of the camp, so he could watch their backs. There were too many trees around, he didn’t want a walker to get the jump on them.

Paul took out his binoculars from his bag and looked around the community. It was small, but there were a lot of people. It looked like they were mostly staying in tents, but there had been a few makeshifts houses made out of wood. Most notably though, was their wall. It looked like it was made out of some pretty heavy steel. When he looked closer, he saw one of those buildings made out of steel as well...and when someone opened the door, he saw the amount of weapons they had inside.

“We’ve got an armory,” Paul said quietly, “A well-stocked one, at that,” he pursed his lips, “It looks like they had to be some doomsday preppers or something, given what they’re wearing,” he squinted, “Groups gotta be like twenty to thirty...nothing we couldn’t take, but for Richmond? They’re bad news,” he said. He turned around and looked at the small group of scouts, Daryl, Aaron, and Dog, “We’re going to look for a place for Richmond to settle closer. I’m going to need your community to start packing up everything you’ll need to move. Once we have somewhere, we’ll send a messenger,” he stood up and walked back down the hill, “When that messenger arrives, you need to be ready to come back with them. It’s going to be within the next month, so be ready to move.”

“But, Paul,” Javi said quickly, getting up and jogging after him, “What if Clem comes back? What if she finds AJ and she comes back and we’re just gone?” he demanded.

“Then leave a message for her,” Paul snapped, “Maybe you shouldn’t have let a kid go out on her own anyways.”

“Seriously?” Javi demanded.

“Yeah, seriously,” Paul said simply, “I’m all for kids being capable and safe in this world, but at the end of the day? She’s still just a kid. Someone should have went with her,” he snapped again before walking away.

“We’ll be ready within the coming month,” Eleanor said, meeting them at the gates before they left, “The food means a lot, thank you.”

Paul shook her hand and then Javi’s, and both Daryl and Aaron followed his movement, shaking hands with them as well. “It’s not a problem,” he explained, “Hopefully we’ll be closer now, so trading will be easier with you in the council.”

“Sure you aren’t a leader?” Javi asked jokingly.

“Very sure,” Paul smirked, giving him brief kiss on the cheek, “See you soon, Javi...keep this community safe and ready to go,” he said before turning and getting in the truck, Daryl and Aaron following after helping Dog jump in the bed of the truck.

“Well, that was an interesting run,” Aaron said, starting the truck, “Think the Free Men are something we need to worry about?”

“Not if we can get them moved before they attack again,” Paul said simply, “They’ll be easy for us to handle, once we’re all together.”

Daryl just huffed, crossing his arms.

“I kiss Ezekiel on the cheek all the time, Maggie and Sasha too, don’t get like that,” Paul laughed quietly as they started to drive. He leaned in close, “Besides, you two are the only people I give real kisses to.”

“Mhmm,” Daryl mumbled before Paul leaned in and kissed the slight pout off of his face.

“I give special kisses too,” Paul whispered in his ear.

“Guys, not while I’m driving!” Aaron protested quickly.

Instead of camping overnight like they usually recommended newer scouts, the group drove through the late afternoon. They arrived at the gates of Hilltop just as the sun was going down. Aaron flashed the lights and Daryl waved his arm out and Kal waved back before the gates opened.

Aaron pulled the truck inside and pulled it over to the parking area. Dog already jumped out and ran towards the trailed as the gates closed, waiting on the porch. When he parked the truck, Maggie was already on her way down from Barrington.

“Ya’ll weren’t due back ‘til tomorrow,” Maggie said as she approached, “What happened to the two day rule?”

“We’re very seasoned scouts,” Paul said, hopping out of the truck and pulling her into a tight hug.

“Mhmm,” Maggie said simply, hugging him back before pulling away, “Ya’ll can rest for the night, but he’s mine tomorrow,” she said simply, giving Paul a kiss on the cheek.

“Aw, c’mon,” Daryl groaned.

“Hey, you got ‘im for three days, he’s mine for at least a day,” Maggie said, her hand on her hip, it was the don’t say no to me or you’ll face my wrath stance, so Daryl caved.

“Fine, fine,” Daryl snorted, “S’like we need a damn custody agreement for a grown man.”

Paul just stuck out his tongue at him.

“Get home,” Maggie called, walking away “Gracie’s up with Sasha still, she’s gonna be happy to see ya.”

“Daddy!” Gracie yelled when he walked into into the trailer. The house was a mess of toys, there was one of Gracie’s VHS tapes on the TV, and a pillow fort made out of the couches.

“Hey, pumpkin,” Aaron said, picking her up and hugging her close.

“Aunt Sasha said ya wouldn’t be back ‘til tomorrow,” Gracie said excitedly.

“Well, we had to get home to see you,” Aaron laughed, passing her over to Daryl when she reached for him to give her a hug.

“Sorry about the mess,” Sasha said.

“It kinda looks like this all the time,” Paul laughed, putting the bags down, “Minus the pillow fort...yours is a lot better than ours.”

“We made two rooms in it, ya gotta see,” Gracie said excitedly, getting down from Daryl’s arms and hugging his legs, “Hi, Paul.”

“Hi, Gracie,” Paul said, leaning down and picking her up, kissing her cheek, “Did you have fun with Aunt Sasha and Aunt Maggie while we were gone?”

“Yeah,” Gracie said, “I was gonna sleep in my tent tonight and watch movies all night.”

“Well, you have school tomorrow,” Paul said, not really thinking about it, as he walked back the hallway towards her room, “But definitely next weekend, we’ll make a tent with three rooms and we’ll all sleep in there.”

Daryl bumped Aaron, who was staring back in Paul’s direction, “Ya gonna stand there gawkin’ or gonna help me clean this place up?”

“I just…” Aaron trailed off, “I’ve never...seen him act like that before,” he laughed weakly, “He’s acting like a dad, he’s acting-”

“Like us?” Daryl snorted, grabbing the bags where Paul had left them, “C’mon, let’s unpack and get this place cleaned up.”

“I can help,” Sasha offered.

“Nah, you’ve done enough,” Aaron laughed, “I know she can be a handful on her own.”

“She’s an angel, just...with kind of a tasmanian devil streak in her,” Sasha said, grabbing her coat, “Me and Maggie have dips on Paul tomorrow, by the way.”

“Yeah, we’ve heard,” Daryl rolled his eyes, already heading back towards their room.

Sasha smiled as she walked out the door, ready to head back to Barrington, “Good to have you back,” she called as she walked away.

“Glad to be back,” Aaron smiled, closing the door behind her.

[saturn-u]

south park headcannons

- pete watches really crappy reality tv shows, but only in the middle of the night when hes sure no one's around

- one of the main reasons stan does weights isn't because he wants to keep up his jock image, its so that when he walking around and sees a really big dog he can pick it up. he believes that no dog should go unloved, no matter the size

- butters keeps a journal of all the crazy shit that happens in south park that no one, besides a few people, know about. he plans on making some books about some of the scenarios when he has the time. but he just hasn't gotten around to it.

- sometimes kenny goes wandering into the forest near his house and doesn't come back for days. even though his parents don't remember when he died of his terminal illness they still get a feeling of dread when he doesn't come back. kevin and his dad always lecture him while karen and his mom ends up shedding a few tears. they're all just glad hes back and hes stopped doing it so often.

- one time kenny went on a rant near tweek and stans group talking about how hes immortal ad while everyone called him crazy, tweek has always remembered 

- jimmy is a art hoe (thanks @fsouth-park-is-imaginative ;) )

- tweek has a super high pain tolerance. he burned his hand on the stove in front of token once and he didn't notice until token started to freak out a little which caused him to go into panic mode.

- wendy has a obsession with washi tape. she has a rack (that was originally for jewelry) for them which has  about 30 crammed in.

- craig doesn't just love hamsters, he really like birds too. once he went to a zoo in fifth grade and saw one that looked exactly like him (color scheme wise) and has felt a special connection with them ever since.

- if you look through stans backpack you can find super rushed, but cute, comics of him and his crush. Kyle saw stan try to force his binder in his backpack for more than five minutes in the school library and got so angry that he stood up and snatched his backpack and, not caring about stans protests dumped everything on the table. Kyle got him a hole puncher and binder so he could put them all in there so his backpack could stay relatively clean. He doesn't tell anyone about it but secretly teases him when their in large groups

 - one of the main reasons kyle would confess to his crush is because it was staring to affect his grades a little to much. Once he saw his history grade go to a B- he immediately sought them out and and yelled at them in a rant about his grade and made it seem like they were the reason why. when they asked why he was he just yelled "BECAUSE I LIKE YOU AND YOU’RE ALL I CAN THINK ABOUT GODDAMNIT" after he said that though he bolted put of wherever he was because it had just realized that he had confessed to them mid rant, there goes his romantic confession ideas he had

- if you ever reach the height of the friendship kyle had with stan, you have the ultimate best friend. You can drag him anywhere at anytime and although he'll complain the whole time, feels kinda comforted that you would want to take him there and if you ever get in trouble he's got the smarts to get you out of whatever stupid hole you dug yourselfs into

 - butters really likes butterscotch and has always wanted to ask his parents if their mind readers, but is to scared he'll get grounded for asking

 - wendy doesn't see kisses between friends as a big deal so most of the school thinks she has a harem and whenever she kisses anyone on the cheek/forehead/hand/anywhere they think its a subtle call that shes added another one to her group

 - token secretly has bandaids in his back pocket all the time not only when his friends get hurt (*cough cough* CLYDE) but hes a huge clutz who stubs his toes on the leg of a table, misses the last step at the end of the stairs, hits his hip super hard on the edge on the table ect,,

 - speaking of token he tried for a week to become more like craig because he hated the "mom friend" status everyone had put on him, he still hates it but has learned to accept it over the years. But of you poke fun at him he wont be afraid to give you a "playful" jab to the stomach

 - tweek sometimes pretends to be way more freaked out than he really is just to get out of stuff, when he's at a restaurant with friends and he has to pay he'll have a mini freakout just so he doesn't have to talk to the waiter at the cashier. He'll pay the person back though, because he still has morals

- if you look at stans pants you can see faint pen lines on them, he doodles on them all the time

 - kyle and kenny have been in the background so much when people confess stuff to other people they have dirt on almost every person in the school, its because i headcanon that when they want to they can blend into the background so easily(but they wear such bright colors like holy fuck) and if you catch them drunk and talk to them they'll practically spill everything they know and then pass out on you 

- craig doodles so much on the sides of his paper that his teachers mark him down a few points because of it (their all just jealous he can draw astronauts as well as he can lol)

 - butters has a sketchbook where every page has a description on practically everyone in the town. It can go from stuff like "they have brown hair that goes to their midback" to "they usually chew on the right side of their mouth??" and on the back page is a full body drawing of the person hes talking about. He would die if anyone found it

- never give wendy a piece of gum, she'll chew so loudly and somehow get it stuck in her hair. And the next day she'll call you and put you on speaker while she desperately tries to get it out with anything she heard works on the internet

 - tweek is a huge fan of late night calls, the poor boy hardly gets sleep so i mean whats the harm im talking while doing so? Hes also happy because he doesn't have to feel the pressure of getting stared at while talking, although the lag that happens in between you two scares him sometimes.

[blondrichclosetwitch]

This morning this lorde song started to play. I looked at Stella’s picture. I already knew what the lyrics would be.

What? I said. I listed off everyone’s names, but she didn’t respond. And then I said “the tapes”. BAM. She told me to go back to 2016. She stopped when I got to this one, which is almost an hour. I kinda complained, but she was like, don’t give me lip. I know what I’m doing.

On one of our phone sessions, the TR suggested I do a cut and clear. with the exception of pulling tarot cards and lighting pink candles that ended in a hotel fire that left me traumatized, I had never done magic. Ever. She sent me the spell, and I did it to the best of my ability(Btw, devil in a new dress just started to play).

You got green on your mind, I can see it in your eyes.

The gina that I refer to is the spirit guide the TR told me about.

Dec 21, 2016 6 a.m.

Random

(sighs.)

Random is that you?

Hi. hi.

Happy solstice.

Um, i am verifying it is you…..?

Yeah, ok, your energy feels a little different today.

The cut and clear is underway, do you feel like it was strong and i did it.100%right, i did it correct?

I did it really well, right?

….

Um

Ok

Um you feel the hard part for me is going tobe the silence?

Yeah..do my best. You will have to keep me busy, i’ll stay busy with work, i’ll go for walks, i’ll go explore...yawns...ill get lots of sleep hopefully, take care of my body...maybe we can work on developing my grounding and healing..and i can go back to him january 9th...thank you for that gift yesterday, i really needed it…..

I really really did. Im gonna have to cheat a little….but you’ll know when, and you’ll tell me when you can...and you’ll tell me when i can’t. (laughs)

I know. And stella wll help me. Do you think that i should have L. do a shamanic journey about blond?

No. i should take the focus off of her completely. Ok, ok, got it. The cut and clear will do the work. Ok.

Ai-yi. Fuck.

I got it.

So can i just ask a question?

In the spell that she did was basically the spell so he could never get me pregnant ever again?

…..

Yeah i guess that makes sense. That makes sense. That’s what the spell was, wasn’t it.

That makes sense.

I get it. Of course, so that’s why my cervix was weakened. Ok. yup. Holy shit. Uh huh.

Wow. okay.

Do you think that she’s still gonna kill herself?

………………………………………………………………………

Yes?

Doyou think that...is physical harm going to come to him in the three weeks that we’re apart?

……………………………………..

Can’t i be there for him?

No.

But i can be there, but we can be together starting on the 9th?

Ok. alright. Please protect him. Please. I know you will.

Ok.

Ok. three weeks. Wow.

Thank you for guiding me in that last night.

So we have work to do for the next while

Im also going to be working with other spirits too , you know? To strengthen other parts. We can factor time in, i’ll try to do almost every day...and i should take a quick nap.

I need to get back to the play.

I know.

………………………

I know i know i know i know. Jamieson believes me now right? I think she does.

I thought so.

Did hearing the tape help her?

You’re saying something. I can’t tell. Maybe i should get more sleep. Should i? Ok, let’s do that.

I mean, random?

Don’t you think that in a way jakk is communicating with me more than he ever has?

Even though it’s like, even though it’s only through the pendulum, i’m telling him that i know what’s going on…………..i’ve been telling him this whole year.

If you listen to these phone calls, you know. Every single phone call is about trying to get him to face the truth. I mean, you’ve heard them all. You were watching. But now...ever since last week...when i said that i knew he was in an abusive relationship..and tht’s why..when i called, when i said in front of, when i texted him to tell blond that i knew what she did, about the accident, and that was it, right? She did a spell so that she could never get me pregnant ever again, that’s what it was. That’s what it had to be. God.

of course, of course. Oh my god, oh my god..it wasn’t that she did a spell that i’d get hit by a car, it’s that she did a spell that he’d never get me pregnant ever again, and the car hit me.

(Crying hard)

That’s what it was. Of course. Do i have to do anything beyond the cut and clear to be protected now?

Like, is the cut and clear going to protect me?

Will it remove….will it protect me from her?

Will it protect jakk from her?

I don’t believe she did that, i don’t believe she did that, oh god.

I’m so mad that my father isn’t here. I’m so mad that i can’t talk to him about this.

I can go three weeks, i can do it..fuck her, oh she makes me so mad.

………………………………………………………………………

(cries for a long, long, long time)

Stella stella stella stella stella, come, stella come, stella come, stella come. Stella stella stella stella stella stella stella

Stella i need your help with this one, this one’s too big for me, this one’s too big, i need you i need you i need you, please be awake please be awake, random please go wake her up. I need her, i need her, i can’t do this one, i need her. I need stella for this.

(cries)

Stella?

Stella?

Stella?

Stella, stella, stella? Stella.

I just realized…..that blond did that spell so that jakk couldn’t ever make me pregnant again..

(crying becomes loud)because she was so hateful and resentful...even though i gave the baby up (hysterical) even though she got him to make me give it up it wasn’t enough, you know? Itwasn’t enough, you know she screamed enough to make it happen and it wasn’t enough of a sacrifice, she had to go and like, concoct a spell and work in dark magic with the devil so that i would be hit by a car, so that my body would be ruined, so that i could never have a baby. you know?

And this whole time, i didn’t know that.

And it’s just hitting me now. You know?

That like it’s not even that she did a spell that i would get hit by a car, that that would happen to me, it was that he never ever again would be able to get me pregnant. That she hates me that much ……………………………………………...stella….stella...this is like a woman that i have been trying to help. (she laughs.)

A woman that even as recently this summer i still loved. That i still asked about, because i cared about. I used to ask the tarot reader how she was doing. But this whole time the whole truth was she just hated me. She hated me. She wanted harm to come to me. She was like, i thought….i didn’t realize. I didn’t realize this whole time. And you know last night, i did a cord cutting for me and Jakk and the night before ...i did this cut and clear and random walked me through it..that’s why i haven’t been available. And i had to do all this work on her, and separating me and jakk from her, and getting all the evil out of her because she’s really consumed with it.

You probably know that, you’ve probably seen a lot. But oh my god………..it’s...she’s as consumed with the devil as i think_________ is. It’s just i feel so….sad, i feel my heart….she stole my baby...my baby is gone, my child...i will never get my child back. I’ll never meet lula. I’ll never meet her. I’ll never see her.

I’ll never see her.

(cries)

Because i wasn’t strong. I wasn’t strong.

(sobbing) stella……...i wasn’t strong stella, i wasn’t. I was so broken when i came to new york. I was so broken. I was.

I was so broken. And i’m so sorry, i’m so sorry.

I’ll never get her back. I’ll never get her back. And people say i have to find some way to forgive this, but i just don’t...i don’’t see it. I don’t see it. I don’t. I don’t.

I don’t see it.

I don’t see it.

You know?

Sorry, i had to get this out. It’s solstice, you know. (laughs)

I need you more than ever. You’re my twin flame. You’re like jakk, you’re my everything, you’re my other half. I miss you so much. Thank you for this. I had to get this out.

And now I’m letting you know

And now I’m letting you know

And now I’m letting you know

And now I’m letting you know

[satyr-syd]

Sero isn’t bothered when Kayama-sensei assigns Bakugou as his partner for a project. Actually, he’s kind of glad. Bakugou is one of his friends, and it doesn’t hurt that in terms of academics, Bakugou is third in their class - definitely the kind of person he wants on his team.

Bakugou doesn’t seem the feel the same. In fact, Sero’s pretty sure he hates group projects. The way he furiously muttered, “I hate group projects,” when Kayama-sensei announced the project kind of gave it away.

They had met at the library after school to talk about the project. Sero already had ideas for topics - the project was a five minute presentation on the societal changes between the second and third quirk generations - but Bakugou shut him down before he could offer a suggestion.

“I’ll have this done by the deadline,” Bakugou says. “So you can leave now.”

Sero pauses from pulling his notebook out of his backpack. “Wait. What?”

Bakugou rolls his eyes. “What the fuck do you think? I’m going to do it myself, obviously.”

Sero is suddenly having second thoughts about having Bakugou as a partner. He knows Bakugou doesn't work well with others, but this seems excessive. “Dude. Hero work is all about collaboration.”

“This isn’t fucking hero work, is it? I can do this better all myself,” Bakugou says. “I’ll put together the presentation. And present it. You can stand there and...change the slides or something.”

Sero isn’t one to get in the way. When the top students like Bakugou or Todoroki or Midoriya went head on in a fight, Sero was more than happy to let them take the lead. He couldn't do anything when villains attacked during the school trip. He hadn't done anything to help Bakugou when he was captured. Even at the sports festival, Sero had let Bakugou make all their decisions, only chipping in when he was needed to pull Bakugou back onto their shoulders.

But in the end, everything had worked itself out, without Sero's active participation. He wasn't needed.

Hero work was one thing - unpredictable, dangerous, and best left to the strongest players. But this was classwork. And Sero felt guilty putting this whole project on Bakugou.

“I can’t just do nothing, man, I want to contribute something,” he says.

Bakugou slams his hands on the table. “I told you, I’ll do it.”

Sero doesn’t even flinch. He’s not intimidated by Bakugou’s aggressive tendencies. “I feel kind of useless, though,” he complains.

“I don’t give a shit,” Bakugou says. “I will do this and I will get us a perfect score, can’t you be satisfied with that?”

Sero bets this was how group projects were for Bakugou in middle school. He would be the super bossy one who took control of the project, and the everyone else would just be happy they could slack off. And hey, Sero was man enough to admit he was sometimes that guy. But that was before - now he’s at U.A. He has to get serious and earn his own grades. “Not if I don’t deserve it,” Sero tells him.

Bakugou groans, reaching into his backpack. “If I give you something to do, will you shut up?”

Sero smirks. “For 8000 dollars, I will stop.”

“The shit does that mean?”

“Just...give me something to do.”

He waits patiently while Bakugou pulls a paper out and shoves it at him. It’s the list of sample topics Kayama gave them. “Pick one.”

Sero glances at the list. Most of the topics seemed pretty boring, and Sero doesn’t even know what most of them are. But he notices that some of them are circled - maybe the ones Bakugou was considering? He picks the most interesting one of those. “How about Quirk Marriages?”

“Fine.” Bakugou snatches the paper back, and starts packing it into his bag. “There. You contributed.”

Just like that, his satisfaction disappears. Poof. Like Thirteen sucked it up and it disappeared into nothing. “Wait - that’s it?”

“Duh, that’s it,” Bakugou says, throwing on his backpack. “I can handle the rest, Soy Sauce Face.”

Sero rolls his eyes at the nickname. “Look, I know you think I’m stupid - and hey, I might be, in comparison to you - but that doesn’t mean I can’t be useful.” Even as the words leave Sero's mouth, he doesn't quite believe them. Was he useful during the end of term exam? Was he useful during the USJ attack?

“How many times do I have to say it to get it through your thick fucking skull?” Bakugou says at a near shout. “I. Don’t. Need. Your. Help!”

By the time the librarian comes to quiet them down with her voice silencing quirk, Bakugou’s long gone, leaving Sero alone, no closer to being useful than before.

To group: bakugou’s harem

snape (snail tape) do u guys ever feel useless

reeeeeed riot. *yum* Yes Wait bro are you feeling useless Because even though youre entitled to your feelings And I get how easy it is to feel like that

its always wednesday did someone call you useless????

reeeeeed riot. *yum* But i think youre really valuable!!!

its always wednesday tell me who ill fite them

reeeeeed riot. *yum* Ashido why must we resort to violence

lightnin mcmeme bro ur lyin if u thikn u wouldnt fight an army for seros honor

reeeeeed riot. *yum* … True

snape (snail tape) i have...the graetest frends

lightnin mcmeme we kno

its always wednesday obvi

reeeeeed riot. *yum* But hey bro are you doing okay?

snape (snail tape) yeah its just u guys have done so much cool shit this year and i have not and i kinda feel like guilty about it? but also like...whatever bc u all can do anything w/o me  

lightnin mcmeme mkay 1st thing: u couldve sent that as 1 text

snape (snail tape) why? does this annoy you?

lightnin mcmeme bruh

reeeeeed riot. *yum* Sero Hanta listen to me right now you are a very valuable human and a great asset to this class. Just because you havent had the chance shown your strengths like everyone else doesnt mean you dont have them or arent useful

its always wednesday what he said! u did amaaaaaazing in the sports festival!

lightnin mcmeme and u passed the hero license exam which even splodey didnt pass

its always wednesday and ur definitely the best at mobility we wouldnt have stood a chance in the cavalry battle w/o u!

reeeeeed riot. *yum* Youre like the tape that holds us together

lightnin mcmeme ur *literaly* the tape that holds us together

its always wednesday plus u came up w all our screen names !! which are cool af!!!!

snape (snail tape) thenks guys that means a lot im feeling a lot better now

reeeeeed riot. *yum* Yay!

its always wednesday yay!!!!!!

lightnin mcmeme glad ur feelin better dude!! but also y did u write thanks like that

snape (snail tape) why did u just double text like that

lightnin mcmeme ....touche

Sero is used to taking the sidelines, but this time will be different. Energized by the support from his friends, Sero vows to prove to Bakugou - and himself - that he’s useful.

He tries to do a bit of research for the project on his own. There’s an article on some online magazine that gives a general history of quirk marriages, from the first quirk marriage to the protests against them. Proud of his find, and much more informed than before, Sero pulls out his phone.

snape (snail tape) hey. found a cool article bout qrk marriage [link]

The Boy Who Cussed I read that shit already

Shit. Of course he had. It was practically the first thing that popped up when he searched  “quirk marriage.”

Sero tries to think of something to say back that won’t make him seem stupid when he sees that Bakugou’s typing something else.

The Boy Who Cussed But if you actually want to be useful Find out the causes leading up to the first quirk marriage protest

Never before has Sero been so excited to do school work. (He probably never would be again.) But getting Bakugou to trust part of their workload to him feels like a victory.

snape (snail tape) yeah np!

When Sero explains to their friends how their project is coming, Ashido claps him on the back. “You like, out-stubborned Bakuboy, which is basically unheard of,” she says. “You’re a force to be reckoned with, Cellophane!”

Sero preens at her praise. He didn’t think of himself as a stubborn guy, but he was persistent when he needed to be.

That wasn’t entirely true, though. Ever since he told his friends how he was feeling on the group chat, he’d been thinking about his place at U.A. Mostly, how he wasn’t persistent about pursuing a spot in the spotlight next to U.A.’s strongest. He had shrugged off his loss at the sports festival. He was the only one who failed the end of term test whose team had beat their hero opponent. He was content to sit back while his friends stormed on ahead of him, blaming his poor results on his less-powerful quirk rather than his relaxed attitude.

That wasn’t any different than sitting back and letting Bakugou do all this work on their project. Ashido called him stubborn, but a truly stubborn person wouldn’t be content with second place. Sure, he felt useless, but he wasn’t doing anything about it. If he really wanted to do better for himself, he’d have to make a bigger effort. Ashido called him stubborn, but a truly stubborn person wouldn’t be content with second place.

snape (snail tape) dude u should come to my dorm we can work on the project together

From The Boy Who Cussed no

snape (snail tape) come on man itll be fun

The Boy Who Cussed This isn’t supposed to be fun, assfuck

snape (snail tape) we can MAKE it fun

The Boy Who Cussed NO

snape (snail tape) what do you have against fun bakugou do u even know what fun is

The Boy Who Cussed OF COURSE I KNOW WHAT FUN IS FUCKTRUCK STOP TEXTING ME IM WORKING

snape (snail tape) r u allergic to fun ill stop if u come over

Bakugou doesn’t reply. Sero hears stomping. Suddenly his door slams open.

Bakugou is absolutely fuming. Smoke is literally coming from his palms. Sero silently counts this as another victory.

He storms into Sero’s room, slamming the door behind him and dropping his stuff on the ground. “I hope you’re fucking happy,” he growls.

“I’m positively joyous.”

Sero looks over the back of his chair, watching Bakugou work.

“So. How’s it coming?” Sero asks. “Were the sources I found useful?”

Without looking up, Bakugou lists off his evaluation. “The first source wasn’t credible. You can’t just cite some rando’s blog.” Sero’s heart plummets. “The second one would have been good - but it was the wrong time period. The third was beyond biased.” He pauses before continuing on. “The last one was...suitable.”

Sero gulps. Next to his past few victories, this is definitely a loss. He’s only proven Bakugou right by giving him these shitty sources.

This is why he usually let the others take the spotlight - they knew what they were doing. They were smart, they were reliable. Maybe Bakugou was right. Maybe he could do this better alone. Maybe Sero really was useless.

“Why the fuck do you want to help so bad anyway?” Bakugou speaks so quietly, Sero almost doesn’t hear him. He’s not even sure if he was supposed to hear him.

Sero decides to answer his question anyway.

“I don’t want to mooch off your work. I want to earn my own grade - it’s not fair to either of us if I don’t do any work,” he explains. “It’s like when you’re fighting, and someone doesn’t even try to fight against you. Even if you win, it doesn’t feel like a win, you know?”

Bakugou looks back at him with a near unreadable expression on his face. Sero isn’t sure whether he’s hit a nerve or struck a chord in him. Maybe both.

Suddenly Bakugou gets up and shoves his papers into his bag. Sero leans back in his chair and holds back a sigh. Fuck. I went to far. Now he’d be back at square one.

“I’m going to send you a list of sources.”

Sero looks up. Bakugou’s still standing by the open door.

“Take notes on them, then give them to me,” he demands.

Sero lights up. “Yeah, sure!”

Bakugou leaves, but Sero’s feeling more confident than before. He just needs to be stubborn like Bakugou. He’ll kept trying until he gets this right.

They meet in the library next week.

Bakugou is, to put it lightly, frustrated.

Sero thought the project was going well. Bakugou actually read over his notes and constructed a summary from it. They had the slides planned out and everything - but Bakugou still wasn’t satisfied.

“This isn’t good enough!” Bakugou says, throwing down his notes. “This is just generic, dumb facts. If we want to beat everyone else we need to do more.”

“I don’t think this is about beating the others.” Sero didn’t miss how he said “we” this time, instead of “I.” Another victory.

Bakugou ignores him. “We need to make a claim. Show how quirk marriage had a lasting effect.”

“It’s not like quirk marriage is dead,” Sero comments. Bakugou looks at him weird, so he tries to explain himself. “You say it like it’s a thing of the past, but people still do it, even if it’s not super common. My neighbor is the result of a quirk marriage. And she’s not even like, thirty.”

Bakugou’s eyes go wide, and his lips twitch. “That’s perfect,” Bakugou says, nearly jumping out of his seat. “Get an interview with her. We can put a video on the slides.”

Sero grins. “I can ask, sure!”

Bakugou leans back in his chair, kicking his legs up on the desk. “Top that, Ponytail girl.”

snape (snail tape) is this u? [link]

The Boy Who Cussed THE FUCK IS THAT SUPPOESD TO MEAN FUCKFACE??!!!

A few days later, they sit in front of Bakugou’s laptop, looking at the draft of their final presentation.

At the moment, the slides have a black backdrop with bright orange text in some hardcore font that’s incredibly hard to read. Sero notes that the colors match his costume. Each slide looks the same - blocks of information in bullet points, too hard to read.  

“Hey, Bakugou do you take constructive criticism?” Sero asks.

"No."

"It fucking sucks."

Bakugou swivels around in his seat, snarling. “The fuck do mean? It looks fucking cool.”

Considering Bakugou’s parents worked in the fashion industry, Sero would have thought Bakugou would have an eye for design. These slides proved that assumption wrong. “Yeah, maybe, but like...could we make it readable?”

Bakugou narrows his eyes. “You don’t think it’s readable?” he asks accusingly.

Sero throws up his arms. “I’m just calling it as I see it, dude.” Knowing that this is an area where Bakugou falls short, Sero makes this an opportunity for himself. He’s not an artist by any means, but he’s sure he can do better than this. “How about you can write the presentation, and I’ll design the slides.”

Bakugou glares at him for a moment, no doubt questioning whether he can trust Sero with this task.

“Relax. It’ll be fine,” Sero reassures him. “I promise I’ll put a lot of effort into it - and you can look over it when I’m done, so you can make sure it’s up to your standards.”

“Fucking fine,” Bakugou relents.

Sero is more than satisfied with the end result. One - because it was a bombass presentation, two - because Bakugou couldn’t have done this without Sero’s help, and three - because they got full marks from Kayama-sensei. She even complimented them on the sleek design of their presentation.

“Put it here, Bakugou!” Sero holds up his hand.

With a grin closer to a smirk, Bakugou slams his palm against Sero’s. His high five is just as explosive as his...well, explosions. That’s going to leave a mark.

Shaking out his wrist, Sero says, “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Bakugou rolls his eyes. But Sero's silently proud of Bakugou for giving up some of his agency. He knows Bakugou likes to do things himself, and he bets Bakugou had just as hard a time sharing group work as Sero had trying to feel useful.

“You should have shown what you’re capable of earlier, Soy Sauce Face,” Bakugou says. “What the fuck have you been holding back for?”

Sero can hear Kirishima’s voice in his head saying So manly!

Bakugou’s words hit Sero like a punch. In middle school, Sero was described as plain. Plain face, plain clothes, plain personality. He thought going to U.A. would change all of that, and it did, at first. But Sero saw himself quickly falling behind ever since the sports festival. Against Bakugou and Kaminari’s flashy quirks or Ashido’s magnetic personality or Kirishima’s sheer resilience, Sero was once again the plain person in the pack. The useless one.

Sero is beginning to realize that this is his own fault. He can see how hard his classmates work - he just needs to up his game.

Bakugou’s right - what is he holding back for? He’s capable of so much more if he doesn’t play follower to the leaders of the pack. Sero can keep up with them - this project proved it.

“I’m not holding back,” Sero tells him. “I’m just warming up!”

Bakugou smirks. “Better catch up quick.”

“Trust me, I’m just getting started.”

ao3 | based on this hc | more like this

pst there’s a tiny deleted scene on ao3 in the notes if youre interested