#Not everything is about Achilles my guys

[jules-ln]

"Why did Peleus want Patroclus to become Achilles' friend? He killed a child"

When Peleus was young he "accidentally" (depends on who you ask) killed his half brother and had to run away to escape punishment, he didn’t help Patroclus because he wanted his son to be around a murderer, he helped Patroclus because he reminded him of himself

[literallyjusttoa]

Guys I think Troy is becoming my Roman Empire.

[queenimmadolla]

𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐌𝐞

(A Lisa Frankenstein, Eddie Munson AU)

next ┊ 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Summary: After a series of unfortunate events in your life, and lonelier than ever, you often turn to a dead guy and his tombstone for comfort. Never in your wildest, fucked up dreams did you imagine he’d turn to you for the same thing, but you find yourself hiding a living corpse, bringing him further to life, reaping some justice, and cutting off a lot of body parts all while trying to fit in and falling in love.

a/n: Part One is here! Just want to say thank you to my friends for hearing me rant and rave about Lisa Frankenstein for weeks now, though I’ve been unbearable with this concept in my head. This will be the longest chapter, just to establish some stuff, but we’ll get to the slaying! Hope you love Undead!Zombie!Eddie as much as I do. Happy reading! (p.s.,there will be some romantic smut in a later part)

Chapter warnings: a bit steve harrington x reader, some eddie munson x other female, death of a family member, brief description of SA (bordered with RED DIVIDERS if you’d like to skip), mistreatment of Reader, suicidal ideation (reader just has dark humor), implied murder, very campy, very cunty.

THEN, 1986.

  “Where you head’n too so in a hurry, boy?” Wayne Munson asked, sat on the couch with a mug of steaming hot coffee in one hand and the television remote in the other as he watched his nephew bounce around the trailer, grabbing all of the the items he let haphazardly around. 

  Wayne always told him to pick up his things, but like the rambunctious boy he was, there was no breaking out of his messy habits.

  “I got people to see, pops. Things to do. Trouble to ‘cause, cops to anger, you know the drill.” Eddie didn’t even need to turn around to know his uncle was scowling but he was proven correct when he turned to throw his father figure a shit eating grin over his shoulder, “Kidding, old man. Mom had me baptized when I was a baby, remember? I can do no wrong, like Achilles.” 

  “Wha’?”

  “Ugh, dad. If I have to explain the joke, it ruins it. I’ll be back by dinner, alright?”

  Wayne fixed him with a pointed look, “You best be on your best behavior, you hear me?”

  “Always.” Eddie gave a mock salute before dipping out the front door, still grinning as he tossed the keys of the van and caught them midair. 

  While he wasn’t necessarily going to cause trouble, he certainly would be providing the fun grass, powder and pills that were often behind it. Eddie knew Wayne was aware of what he did, had implied so when talking about how he knew Eddie was a good kid, just living in the wrong circumstances sometimes. Always said he wanted nothing but the best for his boy and for Eddie to realize he was meant for more than what this particular town forced on him. 

  Made Eddie’s chest tight, but seeing things like the broken patio board—Eddie had accidentally stomped through it after seeing a spider—reinforced Eddie’s belief that he’d much rather help out any way he could than let his uncle bear the financial weight of providing for him. 

  The van roared to life, after sputtering for a good seven seconds, and Eddie revved the engine a little. As he let her warm up, something in the side mirror caught his attention. 

  Someone. 

  Sheila. His neighbor in the trailer across the street. She was hauling a box to a car, looked rather heavy and Eddie would have dropped everything to scramble over and help her, had it not been for Mr.Brawn at her side. 

  Eddie watched as the guy, who stole the girl he was in love with right out of his arms, grabbed the box. The two lovers exchanged words which ended with them laughing at something as she followed him to the car.

  He slid the box into the packed car as she climbed into the passenger seat, and before Eddie knew it, he was watching her drive away, right out of his life forever.

  Eddie hadn’t even realized he was clutching his steering wheel so tight, his knuckles were straining against the skin, hot tears pooling at his waterline but he refused to let them fall. He’d shed more than enough tears over her, over what could have been.

  They started off so promising; throwing flirty waves from their bedroom windows, occasionally at school, before she approached him for weed. After that, came the whirlwind romance and Eddie hadn’t considered himself a romantic before—hadn’t had a whole lot of opportunities to make that discovery but he was so fucking romantic. A big sap. And he wasn’t ashamed of it. 

  Until she’d graduated, and he hadn’t. Again. Turns out, not trying at academics all year and then aiming to ace finals wasn’t enough. 

  Suddenly, all the bullshit naive plans they had to run away somewhere far from Hawkins weren’t possible. At least, Sheila couldn’t with Eddie. 

  He lost her to a guy in another band, had made the mistake of taking a piss after he and Corroded Coffin performed to their tiny ass crowd, and had come back to see her talking to the keyboardist of the band that had gone on before them. She looked entranced, leaning forward to hang on to whatever the fuck he was saying. When Eddie had gone over to ask her if she was ready to head out, fully prepared to tuck her under his arm and way from the keyboardist, she’d insisted and told him to his face, in front of his apparent competition, that she was gonna stick around a little longer and he should head out without her.

  He’d spent the entire night pacing in front of his window, glancing out of it every five minutes and every time he heard a pair of wheels turn onto the dirt road. Eddie got his confirmation when his car happened to be one of them. He’d watched, heart splintering, as the keyboardist got out of the car and walked around to open her door for her before they disappeared into her trailer. Eddie knew her dad worked nights. Knew what she and that musician were doing and he’d thrown up the entire contents of his stomach at the imagery before passing out.

  Eddie woke up to Sheila hovering above him and framed by the glow of the bathroom light like some angel. She’d dumped him right there and left the spare key he’d trusted her with on the table.

  And now, she was living her dream with someone else while Eddie got to stick around this shitty town with these people who could barely stand him for no reason (and yeah, okay, maybe he’d poke their buttons). In truth, while he was a little heartbroken over her, it was the fact that she still got her happy ending that hurt the most.

  The girls around Hawkins might have been interested in maybe hooking up with him, but they weren’t interested in being Eddie’s girl. Weren’t interested in falling stupid in love with him, making plans to start a life together. Didn’t want him in their plans.

  Eddie Munson was lonely. And it sucked.

  With a heavy sigh, he cranked on the radio, fingers twisting the volume dial up to the most obnoxious level before shifting the gear to drive.

  “It’ll get better, Munson. Love ain’t no stranger.” He mumbled, sucking on his teeth and pulling out on the road.

  If he had known then where it would lead him, where the night would take him, he would have at least hugged his uncle. It would be the last time he saw him, and it would be the last time Wayne Munson saw his nephew alive.

  Three days later, he’d be identifying and weeping over his boy’s body in the morgue after reporting Eddie missing when he didn’t come home.

  NOW, 1989

  “Where are you going? It’s almost time for breakfast.” Chrissy called out, head poking out from her bedroom as she watched you race down the hall.

  “Not hungry! I’ll be back soon!” You called over your shoulder, the large sheet of craft paper wrinkling in your hand as you took the stairs two at a time before bounding down the short entryway.

  You’d almost crossed the foyer and then slammed yourself back against the wall as you saw Laura, Chrissy’s mom, fiddling with something at the table. She had the radio on, some garbage self help tape spewing nonsense to her, and that condescending smile on her face.

  Yeah, you’d be avoiding her, lest you wish to be verbally and eloquently belittled. How Chrissy came out of her toxic womb to be such a good person, you’d never understand. 

  When Laura crossed into the kitchen, you sprinted for the door, fumbling a little with the knob in your urgency, but once you got it open, you were out, running across the walkway and the fencing around the house until you were in the woods behind it.

  Only then did you feel safe, the trees a welcome reprieve from your living situation, the magnifying glass this new town had you under, and from the world in general.

  You’d come from a small town before Hawkins, so you were used to small town living. But these people were so judgemental. You hadn’t even grabbed a box from the moving van before your neighbors were casting you snide looks, noses turning up and backs to you as they watered their yard and lounged about.

  Four months later, nothing had changed. If anything, they were more open with their disdain for you, commenting on your demeanor (and you were a cool fucking person), outfits, hair, body. It was annoying. They were annoying. EVERYTHING was annoying. 

  You didn’t even want to be there but you had no real choice. You’d graduated high school a couple of years ago and despite the popular teenage notion that you’d simply pack up your things, go to college and be successful at whatever career you wanted, life did not happen like the movies. The freedom you’d been promised by your own delusions never came. That bitch came with a hefty price tag and you weren’t exactly jumping into a safe of gold coins like Scrooge McDuck with your minimum wage job. 

  You’d gotten into several schools of your choice, but scholarships wouldn’t be nearly enough to cover it, and you’d literally have to sell your entire body to science if you wanted to be able to afford the loans you were being offered, since their interest rates were higher than the standard human beings’ lifespan. 

  So, living with the ‘rents was checked off on your list of things you didn’t want to continue doing past your high school graduation. And hey—you were only 19 years-old! You were still young! Just save up a few years, and maybe one day you’d be able to think about taking a loan. You had time. What could possibly go wrong to throw your plans off?

  Your mother was murdered.

  Yeah, that was a bummer. Could’ve been worse, you supposed. You could have died with her, when your home had been broken into, and sometimes you wish you had. Alas, you were still breathing, albeit extremely traumatized. But only good ol’ mom was six feet in the ground, in an entirely different town, because your father had also moved on a mere few months after her death, with the worst woman to leave flaming footprints on the earth’s crust, and they’d eloped after like six dates before moving you to a town where you knew no one.

  Thinking about it actually made you sick and feel a little delusional. 

  The only real good thing about your entire soap opera of a year was the community college you’d been able to enroll in. You had no real idea what you wanted to do in life, had no real drive for career paths, but you were doing something, and that something kept the she-devil that was your stepmother off your back. Most of the time. Some of the time. She couldn’t say you were a deadbeat yet.

  Chrissy, your sweet to a definitive and insensitive fault step-sister had pushed you into going with her for registration. Convinced you it was the perfect way to make some friends. It was hard to say no to Chrissy, she had a way with people and could make the meekest soul feel like they were capable of anything and everything. She could always see the best in people, and she was outgoing. Your time in Hawkins had been brief, but you’d easily gathered Chrissy was popular, a former cheerleader (and she’d successfully tried out for the community college team) and beloved by all. While part of you felt a little jealous at her confidence, you admired her more. She was never intentionally mean to you, either. She made the occasional comment, but it seemed like Chrissy had more so a filter problem, rather than spitting anything out with sugar coated hostility like her mother. Chrissy was...nice. After everything you've been through, you could use a little nice in your life.

  And sometimes nice was also the woods behind your house, as it led to the Hawkins’ Cemetery. 

  Morbid, sure, but you couldn’t help yourself. After a particularly nasty encounter with Laura the first week of your Hawkins sentence, and feeling lonelier than you’d ever felt before, you’d gone for a walk, tears decorating your face with wet trails as you tried to physically hold yourself together, arms wrapped around yourself. 

  You’d arrived at the cemetery, and because you couldn’t pay your mother a visit, you decided the only decent thing to do was visit other lonely souls.

  You’d stopped to pay your respects to just about every tombstone and plaque, but one in particular caught your attention.

  Tucked away in a corner and separate from the other graves, under a weeping willow, was the most damaged tombstone of them all. Parts of it were broken off, a lot of the information pertaining to the individual underneath it was seemingly grated off. You had no idea who it was, the only remaining legible letters were MUN and you figured it was he simply because you’d taken some paper to the tombstone for etching and ran a black crayon over it. You’d been able to make out the word ‘he’ on the paper and deduced it had once read may he rest in peace. 

  The state of his tombstone surprised you, given how recent the date of death was. While his birth date had also been worn away, the year of death—1986–had been left. It was 1989. No way his grave should’ve looked like that.

  Apparently, even the groundskeeper avoided his part of the cemetery. The grass around his grave was overgrown, and pitiful. So, you’d gone home, grabbed the lawn mower, and pushed it all the way over. You’d ended up disgusting, covered in grass, dirt and sweating like a cheater on a Sunday morning, but his grave was looking better. You’d taken to caring for his grave after that. A bunch of your trinkets and things you'd seen that you immediately thought he’d like surrounded him now and you’d even planted some bluebells. 

  He also made surprisingly good conversation, even though he never talked to you. His presence, while mostly imaginary to you, was comforting. 

  So, during any free time you had, you were sat against his tombstone, chatting about your day, life, whatever you wanted. Felt like he was always listening, no matter the subject and it was really lovely to be heard.

  When you arrived at the cemetery, it was practically vacant, with just the red headed girl you normally saw. You didn’t see her all the time, she was just one of the faces you saw the most, and that was only a handful of occasions. For the most part, Hawkins didn’t seem keen on remembering the dead. 

  “Hope you haven’t been lonely without me,” You greeted as you approached his tombstone, ducking under a few low hanging willow branches that still brushed over you anyways. You’d have to ‘borrow’ Laura’s shears soon, the willow tree was hauntingly beautiful around his grave, but you wanted its branches and leaves to frame his grave, not conceal it, “I missed you.”

  It was a little odd, but you did. 

  When you weren’t at his grave, you were thinking about him, trying to put a face to MUN, wondering what his life had been like. Did he have any loved ones? What had his interests been? How had he died? Had he felt as lonely as you did?

  “I know, I know.” You settled onto the grass in front of his tombstone, securing the craft paper to his tombstone with some masking tape, “I was just here last night.” You imagined he would say.

  “I just can’t stay away from you. You have a very intriguing aura: I can’t see it because you’re dead, and that makes me want to know you more.” You pulled a black crayon from your pocket and went about scribbling on the paper, over where you knew MUN would be etched in stone, “I’ve said it a million times, and you’ve probably turned over in your coffin repeatedly because of it, but you’re the only one who understands me. And you’re the only one here that I care about—probably in the whole world actually, except maybe Chrissy but I know her friends think I’m weird, and I don’t want to drag her down with me.”

  Once the letters appeared on the paper, you sprawled out STER and you dropped the crayon to produce a pretty hot pink marker from your pocket instead, signing your name with a little heart to go with it just above the last name you’d crafted for him.

  The odds of this dude being a Munster were slim to none, but you thought it was fitting for someone who lived in a cemetery.

  You sat back on your haunches to admire it, it was a cute piece. Would look nice on your wall and whenever you missed him and found yourself longing to be near his grave, all you’d have to do is turn on your side and you'd be able to see part of him. 

  You ripped the paper off his tombstone, and weighed it down on the grass with a rock. With that out of the way, you gave him your full attention, shuffling until your head and shoulder were leaning against the stone, “Would you wanna be dragged down with me? Be seen with me? I’m somewhat of a pariah around here. Did you have better luck when you were still kicking?”

  You figured with how fucked up his tombstone had been, probably not. You imagined he’d confirm it, too. Just out right say, ‘Nah, these assholes hated me.’

  “Yeah, looks like we’re two peas in a pod.” Then you glanced down, fingers, twirling the blades of grass over his grave, “Or, you know. Casket.”

  You let silence fall over you, broken only by the chirping of birds in surrounding trees.

  “Goddamit, why do you have to be dead?” Your eyelids fluttered close, and instead of the cold stone, you imagined your head pressed against a warm chest, rising and falling with breaths, and a heartbeat thumping strong below your ear, pushing blood throughout his body. Imagined he was alive, arms slipping around you, firm and strong to hold you together so you didn't have to anymore.

  But he wasn’t, and you were reminded when the groundskeeper shouted, “HEY!”

  You shot up, glancing around until you saw him by the entrance with a leaf blower, “YOU AWAKE?”

  What kind of a dumbass question was that? Sure, it had looked like you were asleep but you were clearly alert now.

  “YEAH!” You shrieked back to be heard, and he went back to not caring. 

  “He can see me leaning against your tombstone, but he can’t see overgrown grass, weeds, rocks, or your grave in general when I’m not here. Men, always so selective, amirite?”

  You glanced at the stone, half expecting it to respond. “Eh, what do you know, you’re just a man, too.” You reached your arm back, knuckles trailing over MUN.

  “Despite you mouthing off to me most of the time, I brought you something.” You reached into your other pocket and pulled out a necklace, lined with black pearls and a cross pendant. It had been your mother’s. While she had a pension for religion, it wasn’t something you thought about. Dying, sure, but whatever afterlife? Not so much. Felt wrong, sometimes, to carry it around with you—felt like you were disrespecting her a little bit to not believe what she did, even though she had no qualms with it when she was alive. So, you figured why not trust it with the other important person in your life?

  “Pretty, huh? It was my mom’s. She’s dead, like you. You wouldn’t happen to have seen her around, would you?” You joked, fingers stroking over the pearls. There was no risk in leaving them with your dead friend, people avoided him and you had a feeling even grave robbers wouldn’t dare step near the willow, so they’d probably be with him for the rest of eternity, “I want you to have them, take care of them for me.”

  You placed the necklace over the peak of his tombstone, smiling when they didn’t fall from their place, “Mm, you look good in them. Better than I do, I’m not big on pearls. More of a silver jewelry kind of girl. I could do gold and diamonds, though, only for a wedding ring.”

  You held your arm out, admiring your ring hand void of any actual rings, “Nothing too gaudy, of course. That’s what my earrings are for.” 

  Your eyes trailed from your outstretched fingers, to your wrist, and the watch decorating it. The time made you heave a heavy sigh, “I gotta go. Chrissy’s dragging me to a party tonight, so I’ve got to mentally prepare for that. You’ll think of me while I’m away, won’t you?”

  Trailing a finger down the stone, you leaned forward to press your lips to it in a sweet kiss. 

  “I’ll be back soon, and this time I won’t forget my book of sonnets. I know how much you love the cynical poems I force on you.”

  And though you announced your departure, you found it hard to leave him, like you always did. It took all you had to gather your crayon, marker, and your new poster (and you kept dropping all three to have an excuse to linger) and leave the cemetery behind, glancing back impulsively every couple of steps until it was no longer in view, and the moment it wasn’t you wanted to drop everything and run back to him.

  You had to remind yourself he was a stranger, who didn’t care for you, rotting in the ground. And it sucked. 

  “I don’t wanna go.” You announced, staring into the bathroom mirror you shared with Chrissy. You’d just finished your makeup, eyes heavily lined, and lashes coated an electric blue that made your eyes pop. You were always a little heavy handed with your makeup, you figured the whole point of it was to use it as you wanted. Your hair had been manipulated to hell and back, but regardless of what you did, you were unsatisfied with the girl staring back at you, “I’ll just stay home.”

  “Not on my watch!” Chrissy declared, reaching in front of you for her pink lipstick. The bathroom counter was littered with your combined beauty products, “This is the first major rager of the year, the perfect social gathering. You need to meet people, sissy.” 

  You scowled at the idea, “I have met people.”

  Chrissy tubed the lipstick bullet, rubbing her lips together as she gave you a concerned side-eye, “People who like you, sissy.”

  Ouch, there’s that brutal honesty.

  “It’s not good for you to be on your own all the time,” She set the lipstick down so she could place a dainty hand on your shoulder, big blue eyes focused on you, “I worry about you. Daddy and mom worry about you. Your doctor worries about you. You need to get out more.” Chrissy stressed, pink lips pulling into a reassuring smile before she went back to focusing on the mirror and her makeup.

  You let out a heavy sigh, mulling her words over. Definitely could have been phrased better, but Chrissy was right. You were currently the town recluse, and occupying your room and the town cemetery wouldn’t change that. 

  “That blush isn’t the right shade for you, sissy.” Chrissy broke you from your thoughts and your eyes drifted back over to your reflection, the girl looking so unsure and right back at you, “You really have to accentuate your features, compliment them, because you’re already beautiful.” 

  Didn’t feel like it.

  Your expression must have given your inner thoughts away because Chrissy turned to you again, practically bouncing, “Wait a minute, you could use my tanning bed!”

  You deadpanned at the mention of the ridiculous full on salon tanning bed that Chrissy owned. There was a dedicated mini garage in the backyard for it, next to the pool, and complete with neon lights, her beauty pageant trophies and sashes as well as her cheer trophies. The PG&E bill was always through the roof for the Tan Shack alone, and you still had no idea how Laura could afford it.

  “No, Chrissy I-I don’t think that would work on me. At all.”

  Chrissy waved off your concerns, “It’s not about the tan, or even if you can tan. It’s the experience. When I lay in that tanning bed, with those little goggles on my eyes and I can hear the buzzing, I feel myself blooming. Regardless of whether or not my skin actually tans,” It didn’t. Chrissy burned but she somehow still looked good, “I feel amazing about myself.”

  “Are you sure that’s not cancer?”

  “You’re so funny!” Chrissy laughed even though you were being serious, “Sissy, every girl deserves to feel beautiful. If I can provide you with an experience that might raise those confidence levels that are dragging across a nail-covered floor right now, why wouldn’t I?”

  Your eyebrows furrowed, trying to decipher if that was a compliment or not, but you didn’t have long to mull it over before Chrissy was framing your face with her hands. 

  “And I can. Please, let me do this.”

  You groaned, long and drawn out and awkward, before squeezing your eyes shut and slowly nodding your head. She squealed, clapped her hands together and dragged you out of the bathroom.

  After explaining how it all worked, Chrissy bid you a cheerful goodbye and left you to your own devices so she could finish getting ready for the night ahead of you both.

  You’d selected your tan level, positive you wouldn’t see any real results but maybe the ‘experience’ would benefit you and shed your fuzzy slippers and robe, leaving you in some boy shorts and a tank top as you tried to settle yourself in the tanning bed. The dip was awkward, and you couldn’t get a good grasp on the top of the tanning bed since it was meant to only open and close rather than stay in position so grasping onto it for balance as you lowered yourself in led to you conking yourself on the head with a noticeable bonk.

  You hissed in pain, rubbing the sore area as you clambered the rest to the way in. Once you’d stretched your legs out, lowered the top, maneuvered the goggles over your face and waited for the magic to happen as you were surrounded by neon blue lights.

  You heard the buzzing as the tanning bed started up. The magic happened alright. The entire tanning bed shocked you, and you shrieked as you felt the intense electric current ripple throughout your body, sparking every single pore in the worst way possible.

“I’m so sorry you got electrocuted, sissy.”

  Chrissy broke the silence as you sulked in the passenger seat, your hair a little bigger than normal and not a result of styling. After getting all five senses shocked out of you, you’d come out with a hairdo that would not usually be up to par with you, and some serious case of static electricity. You’d tried to gently press your hair down and when you saw a literal spark in it, you decided to just leave it alone.

  Your step-sister had been apologizing since.

  “It’s alright. I survived.” And you wanted to forget about it. 

  You could see Chrissy glancing nervously at you from the corner of your eye as she drove you to the party location.

  “So…how are you liking Hawkins Community, so far?” She asked, thankfully changing the subject. 

  “It’s fine. The campus looks relatively the same as the community college I toured in my old town. Classes are decent.” Pitiful. The classes were so boring and straight out of the book, but it cost you a fraction of a fraction of what you’d have to pay to attend a university. 

  Chrissy lips turned up in a mischievous smile and you internally groaned, fully expecting her next question.

  “See any cute boys?” And then, as an afterthought, “Or…girls?” Then she took her eyes off the road again, squinting at you as if she was trying to assess something, “Or…..anyone?” 

  You betrayed yourself, eyes darting to the window before they were back on her and she perked up in the driver’s seat. 

  “Okay, spill.”

  Your heart started thumping wildly in your chest as one particular guy came to mind, but you hadn’t thought about him too much. Hadn’t allowed yourself to entertain the idea of a romance with him. That’s how people got their hopes up and letdown.

  “Sissy! Sissy, come on. You have to tell me. I’m your only friend!” 

  This time, you could tell she was joking, even though she did have merit. You bit your lip as she ribbed you a bit more, the corners of your lips tugging up into a smile. 

  “Okay, okay!” Your hands flew to cover your face, embarrassed, shy and a little giddy all at once to actually be admitting you had a crush. 

  “Steve Harrington.”

  “STEVE HARRINGTON?” She repeated, incredulous and you shushed her even though it was only you two in the car.

  “Sissy, that’s so unexpected! I haven’t really seen him since high school but I didn’t think he’d be your type.” Chrissy admitted with a shrug of her shoulders.

  “He works in the library.” You sighed out, recalling your brief interactions with him when checking out a couple of books. He’d been kind, made a couple of humorous comments about the titles, and always tried to meet your avoidant gaze, which meant he was being nice to you. Coaxing you out of your shell. You actually didn't have much trouble interacting with people, you were more abrasive than you ever were shy, Steve was just a little too easy on the eyes. Made you forget how to talk, and on occasion, walk. It was embarrassing, “Always makes those cute displays with recommendations.”

  “Good for him,” She commented, sounding impressed. “I didn’t really know he was intellectual. Wasn’t, the last I heard. Had a big reputation in high school, seemed kind of mean and everyone called him King Steve.”

  You frowned, feeling the need to protect him, “Didn’t they call you the Queen of Hawkins High?”

  “Yeah, but only to make me seem pretentious.” 

  You raised your eyebrows, glancing away. Chrissy was kind, but sometimes, she could be pretentious.

  “And anyways, I’m not a student at Hawkins High anymore, so they can’t call me that. Maybe Steve really did change. Come to think of it, I haven’t heard much about him since he struck out with a series of girls. Maybe he took a good look at himself and decided a change was needed.” You could feel her eyes on you again. 

  “Does he flirt with you?”

  “No.”

  “See him flirt with any girls?”

  “Nope.”

  “Does he still make his hair all big and poofy?”

  “Looks more voluminous than poofy.”

  Chrissy hummed, “An improvement. Is he all beret wearing and drinking coffee now?”

  You tried to recall ever seeing him in a hat, let alone a beret, “No, I don’t think so. If anything, he’s introspective.”

  “He’s on the spectrum?”

  Your smile waned when you realized she was asking a legitimate question, “Oh. No. That’s—that’s not what that means. I just meant he’s thinking about what he does; how he acts, how he behaves.”

  It got quiet for a few moments.

  ”Well,” Chrissy broke the silence once more, “He might be there tonight. I’m not sure if they’re still friends, but Tommy Hagan is hosting tonight, and once upon a time, they were inseparable.”

  You made a sound of acknowledgment, upper lip twitching in disgust. You knew Tommy, saw him around campus. He was a big jerk, you’d witnessed him throw some guy’s backpack in the trash and pour his drink on it. You wish you’d known it was his party you were going to in advance. Tommy was a nasty piece of work, so his friend group was the same. Out of all of them, though, Carol got on your nerves the most. 

  She didn’t pay you a whole lot of attention, but when you were walking in with Chrissy—and this is Chrissy, so she acknowledged everyone—and she said hi, Carol would just look you up and down before pursing her big mouth like she’d sucked on something sour. One day, you’d like to give her your fist to suck on.

  ”Patrick McKinney is bringing three kegs and I heard Reefer Rick is bringing his whole inventory.”

  “Reefer Rick?”

  “Yeah, he’s the local drug dealer now. I mean, he’s always been but he used to have somebody sell for him while he supplied, but he died.”

  Your eyes widened while your pupils dilated, mind conjuring up some image of a poor dude being murdered for drugs and then the supplier just taking over, not fearful at all of meeting the same fate, “He died?”

  Chrissy nodded her head, looking thoughtful, “Yeah, Eddie Munson.”

  Munson.

  You sat up in your seat, fully alert and invested in the conversation now, “Eddie Munson? Is he buried under the willow tree in the cemetery?”

  You stared at Chrissy, willing her to think faster as she squinted and pursed her lips, “I think Tina mentioned something about someone peeing on a tree over there, so I think so.”

  Your mouth dropped open, expression utterly horrified that someone could do that, “That’s beastly, what the fuck?”

  “I know,” Chrissy sighed with a shake of her head. “I didn't know him all that much, bought some weed off of him a couple of times and he seemed a little scary—appearance and mannerism wise—but he seemed nice when you had to interact with him. He didn’t deserve that.”

  “How did he die?” You asked, voice small and heart shrinking. You didn’t like where this was going. Didn’t like it one bit.

  “Well, the official determination, if I remember right, was like a drug deal gone bad or something, but no one really believes it. He was known to have weed on him, kept the harder stuff somewhere else. Everyone knows he was murdered. They did a number on him, it was all everyone could talk about because Sydney Porter couldn’t even get her dad—he worked at the station—to show her pictures. He told her they messed Eddie up bad. People here really didn’t like him. No one knows who did it though.”

  You sunk back into your seat, mind troubled and stomach turning. This whole time, you'd been tending to and caring for the grave of a murdered guy, taken from this world simply because people didn’t like him. He must have been so lonely. So scared. And they killed him.

  Chrissy was wrong. People in this town knew who killed him, because one of them, or some of them, had to have been his murderers.

  Your fingers curled into tight fists, painted nails digging into the flesh of your palms. Chrissy noticed the change in your demeanor.

  “Oh, sissy. You’re such an empath. Don’t be so sad, I know it’s a horrible story, but he’s resting now. In peace.”

  “No, he’s not. They fucked up his tombstone. He can’t even be dead in peace.” You huffed, furious on his behalf.

  “How do you know?” Chrissy asked, raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow. 

  “I go there a lot, it’s nice. Quiet. A little creepy, but that adds to its charm, makes it relatively peaceful. I’ve been visiting all the graves, but I was drawn to him the most. Etched his tombstone. He’s my favorite.”

  Despite the horrors you’d learned, the thought of Mun—Eddie, still brought a wistful smile to your lips. Maybe your presence was enough to settle him, bring him a little bit of peace this town and the people in it refused to give him.

  “H-He’s your favorite…?”

  “Yeah. I feel this….connection with him. From the very first time I visited. Now, I leave him gifts, flowers, pretty stones, poems I wrote, a book of sonnets I stole from the library.”

  “You….should talk to your doctor about this, Sissy. That’s really weird. That’s really weird, sissy.”

  You fought to not roll your eyes. As much as you cared about Chrissy, and knew she cared about you, she didn’t understand you. 

  “Well, since people ruined his grave, I thought it might be nice to clean it up and make sure he’s not forgotten.” You snapped, “It’s not like I call him my boyfriend or anything.”

  Chrissy eyed you skeptically, “Well, then that’s nice of you, I guess. Just don’t go around telling everybody about that, or you’ll be known as the Ghost Whisperer.”

  “He hasn’t talked back to me yet.”

  Chrissy laughed, and freed one hand off the wheel to lightly slap your arm, “See, now that’s funny. If you do tell anyone, end it with that joke. You’ll be a riot.”

  You smirked, staring out the front windshield. You’d let her think it was a joke. For now.

  You made a sound of displeasure as Chrissy pulled into a clear space on the grass and parked. She jumped out to dance over to her friends, some wine coolers cradled in a plastic bag she clutched.

  You allowed yourself a full minute to stew in your misery before getting out of the car and following after her. As you neared her group, you quickly realized that was a bad idea. 

  “Oh my GOD! Vickie, you fixed your teeth! They look so good. I wasn’t gonna say anything because I thought you were happy with the overcrowding, but now that you fixed it, I can’t look away!”

  Yeesh. You beelined away from them and wandered around the crowded front lawn, dodging rowdy friend groups and couples until you spotted a cooler.

  Maybe a drink would calm you down.

  You squatted down and popped the lid, digging around the ice but all you spotted were Pepsi and Squirt cans.

  “The liquid fun is inside.” A guy’s voice came from behind you and you rolled your eyes. You were so not in the mood to be hit on right now. 

  “What?” You asked, tone bored, but you didn’t want to make him seem helpful so you grabbed a Squirt.

  “Alcohol. He keeps it inside.”

  You slammed the cooler shut and popped the tab of the can, rising to your feet, “Yeah, I figured that mu—shhhh.”

  Oh, shit. 

  Steve Harrington was standing before you, eyes alight with mirth as he smirked down at you.

  You swallowed hard, hoping to god your tongue hadn’t gone down with the movement. See? Here you went getting all stupid around him.

  ”Funny seeing you here.”

  You laughed nervously, “Yeah. I—uh, mhm.” You forced yourself to take a drink of your soda to keep from making an even bigger fool of yourself.

  “Sorry if it’s weird of me to just walk up to you. I was chilling on the side of the house and thought I saw you, but I’m a little nearsighted and I didn’t bring my glasses.”

  You pulled the can away from your mouth as your brain registered the lack of metal frames on the bridge of his nose. He looked handsome with and without them, that wasn’t fair. It was still throwing you off. 

  “It’s—It’s okay. Uhm, no harm done.” You shrugged your shoulders, hoping it looked cool and not as stiff as you felt. You even added in a smile with some teeth for a little razzle dazzle.

  “I actually came over here to tell you your books are significantly overdue.” Steve deadpanned, tongue playing with his canine tooth as he scrutinized you and you shrunk, smile falling from your face. You had got to get better at following up on your due dates.

  “Oh.”

  He scoffed, face breaking out into a grin as his shoulders shook with his chuckles “I’m kidding.”

  OH, THANK FUCK. 

  “Oh,” And then, because every god probably hates you, you started snorting with laughter. You cut that shit quick, clearing your throat as you took another sip of your beverage.

  “So,” Steve took a step closer to you, “Are you enjoying─”

  “Hey!” Carol stepped right up to Steve, practically leaning all over him as her ruby red lips spread into a seductive smile, eyes lidded and no doubt a few drinks in with a drink for Steve in her hand. For the billionth time that night, you rolled your eyes, trying not to gag at how desperate she was. You knew Tommy had recently dumped her, the entire town knew and now she was clearly trying to get into Steve’s pants, “I found the keg.”

  She could eat shit, his pants were yours.

  “Oh, Thank you.” Came Steve’s bleak reply and part of you thought he might have actually wanted to talk to just you. Now, you were really annoyed she’d interrupted.

  “Hey, Carol.”

  Carol looked surprised that you’d even dare speak to her, raising her eyebrows, “Hey. Hi— sorry, how do we know each other?”

  “You’re my lab partner.” You were unimpressed, you expected her to be a better mean girl. 

  “Yay me.” The smile she directed at you was anything but friendly, reminding you of the one Laura would make after you did something in public she didn’t like, but she couldn’t yell at you until you were home. Carol swirled the liquid in her cup around, head tilting as she offered it to you, “You wanna sip, partner?”

  “Carol.” Steve warned and she tutted, flicking her wrist.

  “You’re right, I don’t know why I assumed she partied.”

  “I’ll take a beer,” You could handle alcohol, had cleared your mother’s wine cabinet after she was murdered, so this would be no big deal.

  Carol looked annoyed but handed you the cup, and to make sure you wouldn’t gag and vomit, you threw it back, throat opening as you swallowed the liquid as fast as you could to refuse it as much time on your taste buds as possible.

  When you lowered the cup, you realized you’d made a mistake and glanced into it at the small amount left behind, watching as the ground in your peripheral view began to shift.

  Steve seemed to realize something was wrong, quickly taking your cup and ingesting what was left. His suspicions were confirmed and he spat it out on the grass before scowling at Carol, “PCP? Really, Carol? What the fuck is wrong with you? Why the hell would you give that to her!?”

  “Oopsie.”

  But it was too late for you. You dropped the soda can in your other hand and lifted your hands to your face, watching the lines around your palms and fingers begin to move, swirling around and you backed away from them, watching as everything around you began to come undone.

  “Hey!” You heard a voice next to you and someone started rubbing your back, you hadn’t even realized you were crouching. You craned your head up to see Chrissy and you frowned. Her voice was so different, distorted. She sounded more like your dad than Chrissy. 

  Her face was both far away and right in front of you, you reached a hand out to test the theory, see if it really was close. Chrissy caught your wrist, frowning at the state you were falling into.

  Chrissy started asking you questions, about what you’d taken, what you drank but her voice was too loud for you, and the purple behind her head was distracting. Still, you nodded your head.

  At your confirmation, Chrissy’s frown intensified and she helped you to the ground before darting over to chew Steve and Carol out.

  You couldn’t stay on the grass for long, the blades of it stabbing you and sending pain shooting up your palms and into your bones so you crawled some distance away before you managed to push yourself up and stumble towards the house. It was hard.

  Everything was moving. You heard a loud sound and glanced around wildly until you were staring up at the sky, mouth dropping open to see green clouds and lightning. 

  You had to get away, the need to escape, be safe was urgent but it felt like the closer you got to the front door, the farther away it went. Your breathing was heavy and panicked as you kept stumbling forward, arm outstretched and finally you reached it.

  You yanked it open and nearly fell inside, tripping over your feet until you hit the back of the couch and used it to sink to the floor.

  You heard your name being called and lifted your head, eyes crazed as you tried to find the source. Fred Benson approached you, the skinny boy squatting to be eye level with you.

  “You okay?” He asked and you reached forward, grasping his face in your hand and squeezing to make sure he was a real person.

  “You.” Was all you said, booping his nose but still suspicious of him. Was he real?

  “Uh, yeah. It’s me. It’s Fred, we sit next to each other in ASL class.”

  He looked like Fred. You still didn’t believe he was human, squinting as your hands grasped at the back of the couch.

  “You don’t look so good,” Fred pushed the frame of his glasses up his nose, brows furrowed in concern, “Let's find somewhere for you to sit down for a minute. Or maybe a while. Man, what did you drink?”

  He stood up, offering you a hand and you took it but didn’t pull yourself up. Fred heaved with all his might and managed to get you on your feet but he realized just walking you wouldn’t be enough, and so did you because you draped yourself over him, one arm over his scrawny shoulders.

  Fred cursed under his breath but held your weight, leading you out of the populated living room and you watched a couple furiously make out on the couch cushions as you passed.

  “I hate parties. I don’t know why I came—well, actually I do. I never got invited to these in high school, so I guess I’m living out my fantasy now. In all honesty, I’d much rather be watching Weird Science. So far tonight, I’ve seen three cheerleaders throw up and a baby being conceived.”

  “Uh huh,” Was all you could get out, watching people swirl past you like shooting stars.

  “Would you count that as escaping the teen pregnancy statistic? I know they’re out of high school, but we’re all still pretty young.” He commented as he led you up the stairs. You tripped several times and almost sent him flying down them but the two of you managed to make it. 

  Fred was heaving by the time you'd shouldered him into the hallway wall, his face and hands clammy.

  ”Good god, how did I pass P.E.?” The two of you paused there until he regained his breath while you plastered yourself against the wall, cheek pressed to it and hands stroking over the wallpaper. Eventually, Fred peeled you off of it and kept moving until he could find a place to put you.

  “You like movies right? Got any favorite directors? Or favorite films?”

  “Wall.”

  “Huh? Oh, you’re just admiring the wallpaper.”

  “Great Wall of China.”

  Fred positioned you against the wall, looking a little annoyed. You didn’t care, could only focus on the framed photo of the Great Wall of China directly across from you.

  “Oh.” Was all he said when he spotted it. “Stay right here.”

  Then he disappeared and you watched as the painting came to life, and the stones of the wall began moving, rippling. You didn’t even know stones could move like that but now it made so much more sense. 

  Fred appeared again, tugging you along into an empty room. You spotted a trash can and nearly threw Fred into the bedroom wall as you dove for it, retching everything out of your stomach. You could hear Fred gagging, but he was decent enough to make sure your hair stayed out of your way. When you were done, he helped sit you up on the bed, and nearly collapsed next to you.

  ”We did it,” he cheered with no real gusto. And you sat there, still feeling the earth orbiting. It was the most odd sensation, you could feel a spot on your brain pulsing, like a migraine but it felt so euphoric to close your eyes.

  “Here,” They snapped right back open and you glanced to your side to see Fred offering you a handkerchief. Of course Fred Benson carried around a handkerchief. How amusing. 

  “Thank you,” You gave the three versions of him you could see right then a smile and used the handkerchief to wipe your mouth, eyelids fluttering close just as the sound of thunder filled the room, and a flashing of lightning accompanied it.

  “Huh, a rainless thunderstorm, looks like the angels are bowling.” You heard him muse next to you.

  And it brought another smile to your face, “My mom used to say that.”

  At the mention of her, your brain conjured up all the happy feelings and memories of her, huddled on your couch, in your old home watching black and white horror films. They didn’t scare her, so she could tolerate them. You missed her. She made you feel so light, so seen, so—no.

  Something was wrong. Something felt very, very wrong.

  Your smile faded and you felt your belly sink as you opened your eyes.

  “Does that feel good?”

  You didn’t want to, but you looked down to see Fred’s hand on your breast. Your breathing picked up and Fred let go of you to grab your wrist and force you to touch his crotch, “Well don’t just sit there, help me out. Finish what you started.” 

  Anger filled you and you yanked your hand away, “No.”

  Fred opened his mouth as you got up, rushing away from him and stumbling back out the way you remembered while he yelled at you.

  You had to get out, had to get away. Had to be safe, feel safe. You banged against walls as you went, desperate to get out of the house, away from Fred, from everyone, and to safety. That was your only concern as the drug really hit you.

  All you could remember was seeing colors, hearing and feeling the wind against your sweaty skin, leaves blowing with it and gusting around you.

  You had no idea how you escaped the mad house, how long you’d even been walking or how you actually got there, but you found yourself in front of the cemetery, a flash of lightning illuminating the gate.

  To anyone else, a cemetery would have been the worst place to find themselves on a night like this, but you’d already been to hell so you trudged forward, feet taking you to him. Even in your drugged state, you were able to find your way to Eddie. Always would be.

  Your knees dug into the grass as you collapsed in front of his tombstone, fingers reaching forward to trace over MUN and 1986 before your body curled around the large stone, hugging yourself to it. Electric blue tears slipped down your cheeks, staining them with your mascara.

  “I wish I was with you.” You whispered, hating everything, hating this town, hating the people, hating Fred Benson, hating Carol, hating Laura Cunningham, hating how your mom wasn’t alive, hating how the one person you’d unknowingly sought for comfort was someone you’d never met before who was six feet under the ground. And you hated how you weren’t down there.

  You laid there, hugging his tombstone for hours under the thunder and lightning as the PCP slowly left your system.

  When you were able to stand up on your own, you gave the tombstone another kiss, rested your forehead against it and quietly thanked him for helping you find your way home before you left, following the path you’d made during all of your visits.

  The house was quiet when you got in, and Chrissy’s car hadn’t been parked in the driveway when you’d walked up so you figured she was still at the party. Sluggishly, you made your way up the stairs, falling into your shared bathroom. Your hand searched the wall, struggling to find the switch. Once your fingertips made contact with it, you flipped it and squinted as the room was flooded with the warm light. It was still too much for your eyes but you kept it on and walked towards the mirror

  The girl looking back at you was not the same one you’d last seen in it. This girl had blue smudged all around her eyes, faint trails of it over her cheeks and a rats nest for hair. Her eyes burned, not from the light, but from a fury within. 

  She was stuck in a life she didn’t want to live and couldn’t do anything about. As a large strike of lightning flashed from the window positioned at the back of the bathroom, towards the back of the house, you decided to put her out of her misery, picking up a blow dryer and smashing it against your reflection with a yell.

  You stood there, chest heaving as you stared at the broken reflection. Then you tossed the blow dryer onto the counter, and went to bed.

  Your dreams were much more pleasant than your reality, eyelids fluttering open to the ceiling of your old bedroom. A glance to your side confirmed your mother’s photo was at your bedside, next to your alarm clock on your old bedside table.

  “Well?” Her photo asked, shooting you that gorgeous smile of hers, “What are you waiting for? Go get him.”

  Your confusion was momentary, your mother raised her chin in a direction and you knew what would happen, you were giddy for it as you looked down to see yourself wrapped in the most beautiful wedding gown you’d ever seen.

  You rose from the bed into a sitting position, picking up the bouquet on the pillow next to you. Your dresser mirror was directly across from your bed and you took a moment to admire the beautiful girl staring back at you. Where you last remember seeing trails of tears were diamonds, glittering against your skin. Her eyes sparkled with a joy you’d never known. You bid her one last smile as you turned your head to the figure sitting on the edge of your bed, dark curls cascading down his neck, past broad shoulders with his back to you. 

  His right arm was out, palm up.

  He was waiting for you.

  You shifted until you were on the edge of your bed next to him, staring straight forward just as he was.

  Without looking, you knew exactly where his hand was, and you placed your left one over it, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. Slowly, the two of you leaned towards each other, until your head was on his shoulder and his cheek was pressed against the top of your head, his fingers curling around your hand to ground you. You sighed, all the tension and weight of the world leaving you.

  “Sissy. . .”

  “Sissy…”

  “SISSY!”

  You groaned as Chrissy shook you awake, eyes prying through all the mascara that had crusted over your eyes. It took a couple of blinks until you regained your clear vision, gaze locking on Chrissy leaning over you. Her face was clean of any makeup, skin glowing and hair wrapped up in rollers.

  She’d gotten home later than you and had still been able to look perfect. 

  What the hell?

  “You better get up, sissy. My mom’s losing it over the bathroom mirror.”

  You were confused for a second until you remembered smashing it with a blow dryer last night—or this morning. Well, it definitely would have broken at the sight of you now, anyways. 

  You frowned but made no move to get up so Chrissy tugged your blanket off of you, giggling when the both of you realized you had your hand in your underwear. Hastily, you yanked it out, and threw the blankets back over yourself.

  “It’s okay, Sissy. Everyone does it. It’s natural.”

  “Oh my god…”

  “So, what happened last night to bring this on?” She wiggled her eyebrows and you stared at her for a second. Part of you wanted to yell at her, berate her for letting you stumble around while high on a drug you’d never taken before, the other half knew in Chrissy’s World, it was all rainbows and sunshine—at least, it had been since she’d forced her mother to respect her boundaries. Chrissy didn’t expect the worst in anyone, didn't expect anyone to take advantage of you and certainly didn't expect you to wind up walking to the cemetery and then home on a bad trip. No, in Chrissy’s World, you’d probably spent the night flirting with someone, probably Steve, maybe fooled around in his car before he drove you home.

  You didn’t see it necessary to shatter her world so you groaned instead, the full force of your migraine hitting you now that you were out of sleep’s clutches, and covered your hands with your face.

  “Ooh, your knees…”

  You glanced down to see what she was staring at and sure enough, your knees were scratched up from kneeling at Eddie’s grave, but in Chrissy’s World…

  “I fell.” Was the only excuse you could come up with and Chrissy smirked.

  “Me, too.” Her eyelid dropped in a wink just as Laura yelled upstairs for you, so, begrudgingly, you wrapped yourself in your robe and headed downstairs to receive your punishment.

  Just as you suspected, Laura had attacked you with allegations—that were true for once, you had smashed the bathroom mirror—and your dad looked like he could care less.

  “You know,” She stated, fixing you with those unnaturally blue eyes of hers, “Your dad wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt. See the good in you, but I knew. I’m an Intuitive Person, you know. An IP. They’ve got seminars for people like me.”

  Your mind flashed to How to Handle a Narcissist. 

  “Laura…” Your dad warned and Laura inhaled sharply, displeased that your dad was sticking up for you. For once. 

  “Did you know there was a tornado last night? It hailed. Wind blew the fence over. The yard is covered in debris, and now I have to focus on repairing the bathroom, too. I don’t think that’s fair.” She huffed and Chrissy spoke up from her place on the couch.

  “It was a tornado watch, mom. Not a real tornado.”

  “Actually, Chris, the weather was downright crazy last night. I mean, it was really something, I saw green lightning. Big balls of it in the sky.”

  You and Chrissy shared secret smiles at hearing your dad talk about big balls.

  “Love muffin, could you swap out being a weatherman for being a father, right now?” Laura gritted out through her chemically whitened teeth.

  “It’s a Meteorologist,” You mumbled and her head snapped over to glare at you before she was speaking to your father again.

  “Honey, your daughter is a vandal. She’s got a taste for vandalism, and she is deliberately vandalizing and destroying property. First, it was my collection of Precious Moments figurines─”

  “That was an accident, you didn’t wrap them in bubble wrap and I dropped the box when I tripped over the front steps.”

  “Mother,” Chrissy chided, hands crossing over her robe. “Be. Nice.”

  “I am being nice,” Laura hissed, glare never leaving you, “But I refuse to coddle her. She’s headed straight to the nut house with this behavior.”

  You frowned, wiping away some of the dried mascara under your eye, “Can you say that if you’re a Psych Nurse?”

  Laura had the decency to look embarrassed before whacking your father’s arm. He sighed, putting his newspaper down, “Sweetheart─”

  You clocked the twitch in Laura’s eyelid at the affectionate name your father used to refer to you.

  “─You’re gonna clean your bathroom, alright? Sweep up all that glass.”

  ”And?” Laura pushed, still staring at you.

  “And…..um. Pay for the mirror, I guess.” Laura turned her nose up, hurmphing. 

  “That’s fine, can I get ready for work now?”

  Your dad nodded and Laura looked like she wanted to protest but you turned your back to her and made your way upstairs, hesitating at the top when your fathered turned the volume of the TV back on and you heard the news reporter reporting from the cemetery, talking about a grave, under a tree, that had been struck by lightning. 

  You wondered if it had been Eddie’s. There’s no way you’d be able to check today, you’d get home from work too late, so you’d have to check tomorrow.

  You tried to stay busy during your shift at the local tailor’s. You didn’t really have a passion for it, but you were relatively good with a needle and thread. With the magnifier headlamp, you were practically unstoppable, altering coats, dresses, blouses, shirts, all with minimal finger injuries—though luminol on some of these clothing items would no doubt reveal traces of your blood.

  But hey—you now knew what it meant to work so hard you put your blood into something and you always had band-aids on you, in case anyone needed one.

  You were so invested in your work, you hadn’t heard the bell above the door chime when it was pushed open, and didn’t notice Steve leaning against the counter, watching you work until he cleared his throat.

  You jumped, head swinging around to see your crush smiling at you and you raised the magnifying glass portion of the head lamp off your face, feeling embarrassed that he’d seen you with the headgear on in the first place.

  “Hey! I didn’t know you worked here.”

  You let out some nervous laughter, mind racing for ways to make this seem cool but you came up short. “Yeah, I—employed.”

  “I can see that,” He chuckled, amused by your lack of verbal sparring.

  You didn’t know what to say after that so you stared, fingers twisting and pulling the thread you’d been working with, desperate for him to say something or get out.

  “Oh! Uh, I heard you guys also get rid of stains? I’ve got this one on my pan─”

  “THAT WE DO!” 

  You sighed, eyes slipping shut as your moron of a boss came bursting out of the office.

  “What can we do for you, Harrington?” Murray asked, leaning against the counter, causing Steve to lean back, smile now less than thrilled.

  “Murray…I forgot you worked here.” Steve said it in a voice that made you think he would have avoided the shop had he known who it was that was currently in charge of running it.

  “Yup, got me this sweet little gig. And no radios.” He gestured around to the shop, void of any technology save for the cash register—and he made sure it was never him operating it, “Would like to see the government try to control me now.”

  “Right, I just came here to drop off my pants, spilled something on—well, it doesn’t really matter, I just spilled something on them.” Steve placed the folded pair of pants on the counter and Murray immediately unfolded them, searching through the fabric until he found the stain by his crotch. To both your horror and Steve’s, he lifted the strained fabric to his nose, sniffing deep.

  “Mm. White wine?”

  It took Steve a moment to find his voice and close his jaw, “Crush. The soda.”

  “Same thing. We’ll get this right out, my man.”

  You and Steve shared one more look of disbelief before he slowly backed away, the bell above the door sounding as he left.

  “He’s a nice guy,” Murray commented and you shrugged your shoulders, wanting this conversation to be over, “I’m surprised you know him, little loser.”

  You shot him a glare.

  “Oh, c’mon, lets not pretend you’ve got an active social life—if I call you in for a shift, you’re available. Nothing wrong with being a loser. I was one throughout high school and look at me now. Who got the last laugh?”

  You were positive the look of pain on your face should have told Murray that anyone other than him got the last laugh. He was a forty something year old, afraid of technology, convinced the government was watching him, who tried to befriend teenagers. 

  You’d have to kill yourself if you were anything like him.

  When he disappeared back into the office, because of course you’d have to get rid of that stain for Steve, you snatched the pair of pants off the counter. Glancing around to make sure there weren’t any eyes on you, you pressed them to the side of your face, imagining yourself hugging Steve instead of the pants. They smelled like him. It was bliss.

  Then your eyes snapped open.

  Oh, god. You were a loser.

  After your shift, you’d gone straight home. Normally, you’d stop to grab a bite or something, you still had to pay for the mirror you broke so fast food was off the table for a couple of weeks, but on your dining room table when you walked into the house.

  A pizza box. Your stomach growled as you imagined the slice of cheese waiting for you.

  “Is there any left?” You asked, already making a beeline for it.

  “Should be a slice left,” Your dad mused and as you tossed the top of it open, all you wanted to do was maybe beat him with it.

  There, on the parchment liner of the pizza box, was the skinniest and tiniest slice of pizza to ever be cut. Not even the width of two of your fingers.

  “Want me to order another one, sweetheart?” Your dad asked and Laura immediately inserted herself into the conversation. 

  “She can eat it, love muffin. Besides, we’ve got vegetables in the fridge if she’s still not full.”

  “I said we should have ordered two, but my mom had a coupon she wanted to use.” Chrissy didn’t sound impressed.

  “Yes, we got a free soda!”

  Chrissy ignored her mom, “Sissy, we’re going to the movies! You could get something there, they sell pizza and nachos, right?”

  You knew she was trying to find a solution for you, but your bullshit meter for the day had already been capped. You didn’t want movie theater pizza or concessions, you wanted a  reasonable slice of this pizza, not some scrap your step-mother had saved you. It was obvious she was implying that she, your dad and Chrissy were the perfect sized family and you were simply an afterthought. Unwelcome.

  “Yeah, I’m passing on the movie.”

  Before you could stomp upstairs, Chrissy caught your hand.

  “Sissy, please? We’ve got to bond as a family, it’s crucial. If it takes two, how can I do it as one?” She pulled you into her side.

  “Really, Chrissy, I’m super tired.”

  “You’re tired?” Laura asked, incredulous. Here we go again.

  “All you do is work with a sewing machine for hours like some old spinster, I can hardly imagine that being tiring, but my Chrissy just got back from a five hour long cheer practice. They were throwing her around like raggedy ann and she stuck every landing.” 

  “Mom, stop.” Chrissy blushed, but you could see how proud she was of herself, “I’m sure Sissy pokes herself with those needles all the time, and it hurts, I’ve been prodded myself during all of my custom fittings.”

  “I have finger calluses so I don’t even bleed anymore,” You begrudgingly admitted, “I can take it.”

  “I bet you can.”

  After they’d left for the movies, you’d gone upstairs, showered, put on your comfiest pajamas and fuzziest slippers, you grabbed a bowl of chips and set yourself up in front of the TV to watch Dawn of the Dead. You had to give props to all these zombie actors, you couldn’t imagine having to act out being one of the walking undead, imagined it felt pretty stupid but the paycheck and experience must have been cool.

  You popped another chip into your mouth just as someone knocked on the front door. As you placed the bowl of chips on the table to get up, the knocking got louder, more aggressive and you hesitated, fear beginning to swell up inside of you.

  Maybe if you ignored it, they’d go away.

  You turned your attention back to the tv, picking up the remote to lower the volume and hopefully hide your presence in the house. 

  Then, much to your horror, you heard the distinct sound of a pained, gurgling groan. It sounded very similar to the ones you’d heard the zombies making on your tv, but this one was louder. 

  And it was coming from outside your front door.

  You crouched, duckwalking to the foyer where one of the house phones was placed. You’d just picked it up from the receiver when a shadow from the living room window caught your eye. You barely had time to turn your head when something came crashing through it, breaking the glass and yanking the curtains from the rod.

  Shocked, the phone slipped from your hands, banging against the hardwood floor of the foyer and you let out a scream at the same time as the person on your TV, running away from the figure invading your home. 

  You made it to the dinning room. Literally scrambling across the table to put an obstacle between you and the stranger—no, creature. Tall, caked in mud, leaves and stems, it resembled the Swamp Thing. It grunted, groans low and reverberating off the walls.

  “Uuuhhhnng…”

  This couldn’t be happening to you, you couldn’t die like this!!!! It was supposed to be by your hand or nothing!

  ”STAY AWAY FROM ME!” You shrieked, picking up the decorative plates from the table to throw at the creature. You nailed it a couple of times, watching it stumble as the fine china shattered against it. When you ran out of plates, you bolted from the dinning room, screaming as you scrambled up the stairs, and lost one of your slippers in the process but to hell with it! You had to get out of there. Hopefully, one of your neighbors heard your shrieks of terror and called the police.

  You peaked over the railing at the top of the stairs, to see the creature analyzing your slipper. While it was distracted, you locked yourself in your room and made your way to your bedroom window, pulling it open.

  “Okay, okay. I can do this, no big deal. Stunt actors do it all the time.” You climbed outside of your window, body nearly convulsing as you almost slipped down the roof, “Nonononono.”

  You tried to grip onto a couple of shingles but they gave away, slipping right off the house to shatter against the concrete walkway and you realized Laura had no fucking idea what she was doing when it came to house repairs, the dumb bitch had just laid the shingles out without securing them.

  “OH MY GOD-I’M GONNA DIE! HELP!”

  Your body slipped further down the roofing, until you were forced to grab the gutter, gagging when your fingers squelched against whatever was in it. You dangled a good six feet off the ground, and while it wasn’t exactly a ten story fall, with your luck, you’d land on your head and break your neck.

  Whimpering, you tried to pull yourself back up the roof, but it was no use. You had nothing stable to grab onto as you yanked yet another shingle clean off. You glared at it and muttered a goddammit before tossing it somewhere behind you as you went back to hanging on for dear life. 

  “Oh, no.” You mumbled, terrified as your fingertips began to lose their grip, wet with the mystery sludge from the gutter. “No, NO!” 

  You lost your grip, plummeting down but you didn’t meet the concrete. No, the Creature broke your fall and you were now face to face with it. The pressure of you landing on it, made it spit up into your face, green sludge, and you gasped before breaking out into screams again.

  Pushing yourself up and off of it as you ran around your front yard, nearly blind. You were not opening your eyes to let that bacteria infested swamp slime, water, whatever the hell it was, into your eyeballs. 

  You could hear the Creature stomping around behind you as you bobbed and weaved, could feel his presence and you could not believe you were actually gonna die fighting off a swamp monster in your front yard while blinded—in clear and plain view for your neighbors to see, by the way, and unbeknownst to you, an elderly couple was watching you, not even a little concerned about your well being or the creature chasing you around.

  “Stop it!”

  “Leave me alone!”

  “Go away, I’m just a girl!”

  The timed sprinklers went off and you were soon assaulted with them as well. With just about all your senses done for, and the sprinklers washing the guck away from your face, you made a run for the house, slamming your back against the door and locking it behind you.

  Your chest was heaving, wet body pumping with adrenaline as the back of your head thumped against the door. You weren’t done yet. That creature was still out there!!!

  You dove for the phone on the ground, hanging by its springy cord and shouted out hopefully loud enough for it to hear, “I’m calling the police, so if you don’t want your ass riddled with bullets, I’d suggest you leave! They shoot before asking questions!”

  You frantically dialed 911 but there was no ringing, instead, you could still hear buttons being pressed on the other line.

  Bleak, and accepting your fate, you put the phone back on the receiver, and turned towards the living room, where the other phone was located. 

  On the chair, next to where the table the phone normaly rested on, was The Creature. 

  You grabbed one of the lamps, ready to use it as a weapon but it didn’t attack you, just turned the phone receiver this way and that, as if admiring it. 

  Despite your fear, you took a reluctant step forward, casting the creature in the glow of the lamp you clutched and for like the billionth time that night, you gasped.

  The sprinklers had washed some of the filth off of it, too. Before, its head had been caked in a mud helmet, but now, you could actually see it’s head. It had long, disgustingly dirty curls, and wore a leather jacket, jeans and tennis shoes, all covered in grime.

  When it craned its head up to look at you, you readied the lamp, poised to throw it at it—him. It was a guy. Big brown eyes, stared up at you and he made no move to attack.

  Slowly, you lowered the lamp, and crouched down a few feet away.

  His attention returned to the phone—shoe shaped—in his hands and shakily, with stiff limbs, he put it back on the receiver.

  “It’s…It’s cool looking, right? The-The shoe phone.” 

  He glanced over at you and then the phone again as you mumbled out an explanation, 

“Our neighbor in our old town cheated on his wife and she threw all his stuff out the window at him and my dad snatched the phone.”

  “Merrrruhhhhh.” He moaned out, picking up your slipper and offering it to you. When you just stared, he dropped it and you moved the lamp to the side, crossing your legs.

  “I’ve never seen a zombie before.” You marveled, then squinted, “You are a zombie, right? An undead?”

  It took him an entire minute to choppily raise his shoulders, you realized he was shrugging. Or trying to. Every movement he made was choppy. Reminded you of how stop motion was made, except his scenes weren’t being played fast enough to have fluid movements.

  He tried to get up and promptly slipped, accidentally elbowing the mini sound system at his side. It turned on, Sinead O’Connor’s Drink Before the War playing. You’d been the last to use it.

  You watched as his head tilted in interest as Sinead began to croon out lyrics.

  “Do you like music? This is Sinead O’Connor. She makes music that heals souls.”

  He raised his wrist to his chest and you inhaled sharply as you realized he was missing the hand on it.

  “Uhm, no—I don’t think she healed your soul. I meant like, figuratively. Her music makes people feel.” You placed your hands on your own chest, trying to convey your meaning, “She’s one of my favorites.”

  A surprisingly comforting silence fell over the two of you—though he sometimes made his quiet dead guy gross sounds—as you stared at him, taking in the green-gray tint of his skin beneath the dirt all over him, cheeks sunken in. You had a feeling if you touched his skin, it’d be hard, maybe waxy and it was a bit unnerving how human his eyes were, but duh! Of course they were, he was a human. Just. A dead one. At least he wasn’t a skeleton.

  Man, Hollywood wasn’t too far off with their interpretation.

  “C’mon,” You stood up, eyes taking in the state of your home and all the dirt the two of you had dragged in, “I gotta hide you, new dead friend.”

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hello! I hope you’re doing well😊

I’ve been stalking your blog for a while and I love how you write the dc boys and was wondering if I could request a head cannon or small blurb?

So, one of my guy friends has a list of things written in his iPhone about his girlfriend, like her favorite food, flower, color, possible gift ideas, any and all anniversaries, etc. just a long list of everything he can think of pertaining to her. It got me thinking about Jason/Tim/Dick having something similar on their phone for their SO. Maybe the reader finds it one day while scrolling through their phone and they just 🥺❤️❤️ while their boy get flustered lol

Dick

Dick had a list on his phone specially made for you and while to some it would seem like what he had listed were mundane or not all that interesting, but that couldn’t be less then the truth to him as everything pertaining to you was worth jotting down and remembering.

From the way you liked your tea/coffee, your comfort movie and or tv show, right down to the way you always wanted to go on a date to a proper aquarium one day, all of this and so much more was taken into account as Dick often used this knowledge for brainstorming your next date night.

He takes it extremely seriously as he wanted everything to be worthwhile for you and also the fact that he’d get to see you smile as brightly as you did, it was his Achilles heel and Dick wasn’t ashamed to admit it.

So one day when he was writing down ideas on where to where to take you for your next date, you were just so happened to be in the room to take notice how on he left his phone open as he went into another room for one reason or another, and got curious as to what he had been so concentrated on; and what you found was enough to melt your heart.

In an extremely long list was filled to the brim with things about you that dick loved/took notice of and adored that even you yourself didn’t notice doing half of these things. It was like as though Dick saw more to you than you ever did and it made you feel…well loved.

‘Aww Dick. Is this list all about me?’ You asked as you read further down the list as Dick burrowed his face into your neck as he held you from behind after seeing you read the list on his phone.

‘It’s not like I can deny it now can I darling,’ he said, tightening his hold on you as he felt his cheeks fluster slightly, he’s not use to someone reading his innermost thoughts and feelings and now that someone has he’s not use to the feeling he was currently experiencing.

‘There’s even stuff in here that I’ve told you ages ago.’ You exclaimed, looking over at him with adoration. ‘You’re amazing you know that.’ You praised him, kissing his forehead softly.

‘So I’ve been told but it means a hell of a lot more when you’re the one praising me.’ Dick chuckled as he kissed your neck, keeping you close as the list on his became long forgotten as you continued to smother your dickie bird in affection.

Jason

Jason’s list about was seemingly never ending with how often he was adding onto it with things that you did or have started doing just recently that he couldn’t get enough of.

He had things such as how you’d snuggle up in bed in one of his hoodies, cuddling the pillow on his side of the bed close to your chest whenever you were missing him and stuff like how you latch yourself onto him from behind and chomping down on his shoulders and biceps when you wanted some attention from him.

Anything and everything you did that made his heart melt into a puddle was there and as mentioned beforehand it was growing on a daily basis.

So when you came across this list of his, you couldn’t help but feel as though you were seeing yourself through his own eyes for the first time, and seeing just how serious he was about you from his long and detailed list on just about everything you’ve ever done before and during your relationship.

There were even parts where he would go on about how cute you were during certain moments and how he’d take you to special places for dates when given enough time, and being amazed at how he’d remembered something you had brought up in passing several months ago.

Jason had taken every single detail about you and show just how much he loved them by keeping a list of them on his phone so that he doesn’t ever forget. Perks of being a hopeless romantic who’s read every Jane Austen book in existence. You had consumed his mind, body and soul and this listen only proved it as you delved in just how much you seemingly were on your pretty boy’s mind, much to his embarrassment.

‘Sweetheart.’ He droned from behind you. ‘You weren’t learnt to see that.’

‘Why not?’ You asked, holding his phone close to your chest, pouting, wanting to read more of his list about you and your many, many, many attributes that he adored like no other.

‘It was meant to be kept a secret so that I could surprise you on our next date.’ Jason told you with flustered cheeks at the fact that you now knew just how deeply he thought of you.

You only smiled at him as you peppered his face in kisses. ‘You’re such a hopeless romantic.’ You teased. ‘I love it.’

‘Only for you sweetheart, only for you.’ Jason murmured as he leaned in for more face kisses.

Tim

‘You shouldn’t be reading that.’ Tim would say when he found you reading the embarrassingly long list that he had specifically made for you and everything he’s known about you since you started dating. Tim was smart to take safety procedures in most things, but he seemingly forgot that you could easily access his phone that he had left open by accident.

‘Why not, are you embarrassed?’ You asked, smiling at how hellbent your boyfriend was on getting you to stop read in the list that he himself had made.

‘No, it’s just-‘

‘I’m only teasing sweet Tim, I think it’s really sweet that you made a list all about me.’ You interpret him as you reached out to hold his hand, squeezing it reassuringly when you felt his nervousness, kissing the back of it for good measure.

‘You really are a pain.’ Tim groaned as he plopped himself down next to you, still not over the fact that he was left his phone open for anyone to read just how badly your hold over him was, he thanked god that it was you who came across it rather then his siblings. Tim would never be able to live it down if someone like Damian or Jason or god forbid Dick had found his big little list about his perfect partner.

It had everything from your comfort foods, to that childhood plush that you held tremendous sentimental value towards, and things that you’ve mentioned once or twice that didn’t seem like much but were more then worth writing down and kept for future reference.

He couldn’t help it, there was so much about you that was worth writing down as you meant a lot to Tim and he found often found himself coming up with complex ideas for something as simple as your future date nights. Most were mainly date nights spend at home but neither of you were complaining if it meant spending quality time together, regardless of where that might end up being.

‘Well that’s odd because if I was then you wouldn’t have made the equivalent to an Google docs on me.’ You cheekily said, bumping your shoulder with his as he groaned, covering his face with his hands but the tips of his ears were beet red. God he was cute when he wasn’t being sarcastic and a smart ass. ‘I hate you.’ He said, voice muffled by his hands.

You smiled as you kissed the hands covering his face before leaning your head against his shoulder. ‘I love you too Tim Drake, more than anything.’

[miroana]

Elite moments in the Odyssey

A curated selection of my favorite details in this silly epic that changed storytelling forever. Homer is hilarious.

- Whenever anyone asks Odysseus where he’s from and he seizes the opportunity to lie continuously for several pages.

- Victims of his elaborate, entirely false backstories include: the cyclops, the suitors, the swineherd, the goddess Athena (who immediately calls bull), his son, his wife, and his father. Odysseus just loves lying

- Every time Athena makes Odysseus hotter and taller so he can rizz someone up

- His brilliant strategy to survive Charybdis’ whirlpool (cling to fig tree “like a bat”)

- When Telemachus casually drops that he is well aware that Mentor is actually Athena and she pretends not to hear and continues to act like she’s just some guy

- When Odysseus falls asleep while the Phoenicians give him a lift home, and instead of waking him when they reach Ithaca, the sailors just pick up the corners of his blankets to dump him on the shore and leave

- Odysseus subsequently waking on a random beach and spending several pages violently confused until Athena, slapping her forehead, has to appear to tell him what’s going on

- Penelope’s weaving and unweaving of the tapestry to get out of marrying the suitors. it’s so stupid that it’s brilliant

- When Odysseus goes to the land of the dead and Achilles and Patroclus appear together <3

- That time Odysseus and Athena sit down on a rock together to plot and scheme etc

- When the maid who raised Odysseus recognizes the gigantic scar he used to always brag about and he grabs her by the neck and tells her to shut the hell up. Elegant elegant man

- Odysseus’s dog who stayed alive for over 20 years so he could lay eyes on him before dying on the spot

- Every time someone says bro you’re kind of hot for a beggar and Odysseus says yeah I know right?

- When Circe was like oh dude I can’t kill you? Guess I’ll sleep with you

- “‘You bitch!’ retorted the ready-witted Odysseus”

- Penelope later calls this maid a bitch too

- When Odysseus avoids competing in the Phoenician games until one of the Phoenicians calls him weak and lazy. so he thoroughly wipes the floor with them

- The sheer number of boats Odysseus crashed

- The sheer number of times Odysseus started sobbing in public

- When one of the Suitors smacks beggar Odysseus with a stool and it takes everything in him to not go insane on them

- Every time Odysseus anonymously gasses Odysseus up

- And last, but not in any way least, the Trojan horse plan. We all know it. We all love it. But take a step back and think for a moment how delightfully absurd it is

[lunaxstrange]

Can we talk about love in orv?

[SPOILERS]

Okay so, I am aware that Kdj loves the "story" but I really wanna point some things out individually because it's 2am and ORV is on my mind.

Kdj had the easiest way out of the 1863rd turn. The most perfect turn (at the time) but he really went I'd let the world burn for Yjh? Yeah, everything is "part of his plan" but let's talk about the 73rd Demon King arc. My man would do anything to make sure Yjh finishes his story. Apart from this, it's the fact that while everyone else dislike any other version of Yjh (even he hates himself lol), Kdj loves every. single. one. I mean 3rd turn (1864th) Yjh? Yes. Hsy's 1863rd turn? Yes. Frickin' Secretive Plotter? Got off to a rough start but yes. You simply cannot make Kdj hate his beloved protagonist. I mean, this man risked his whole existence to make sure the 0th turn is actually the most perfect one. He didn't want Yjh to regress but became his sponsor anyway because it's what Yjh wanted. He would do anything to see Yjh happy. This type of love isn't romantic or platonic or anything else, it's the most inexplicable form of love. Love in its purest form. I'd like to take the time to compare it to Achilles and Patroclus because while we can fight over whether these two were gay or not, we cannot deny the sheer love they had for each other. No strings attached. Kdj is in awe of Yjh.

Yjh. The regressor. The protagonist. The person Kdj loves the most. Yjh had everything (0th turn) but he really gave it all up just to meet Kdj. Suffered the "Hell of eternity" just to see him. Bro didn't even love Lsw the way he loves Kdj. Tbf, 0th turn Yjh didn't know what the real struggle of passing the scenarios without help was but I'm sure he got the gist. Okay, sure, you can call it "curiosity" that led to Yjh keeping Kdj alive during the 3rd (1864th) turn. But my guy didn't choose Kdj to go to Peace Land because he had "someone he loved" like bro, YJH!? THE COLD REGRESSOR??? HE DID THAT FOR KIM DOKJA! Not to mention the fact that Yjh didn't even care that his whole life was a mere novel. He just despised the fact that Kdj chose the 1863rd turn over him. I'm gonna cry. Bro wanted Kdj so bad that he kept fighting the Secretive Plotter. Not only this, he gave up the 3rd (1864th) turn for Kdj too. Went from Supreme King to terrorist just to save Kdj. When everyone else - even Hsy - gave up. After all, what is a protagonist without a reader? The whole astronaut ordeal might've been to "find his purpose" but we can't ignore their connection. He gave up everything he could ever ask for twice (0th and 3rd/1864th turn) for Kdj. The attachment these two have with each other is insane.

I could go on about them for eternity but we have another person to talk about - Hsy. This woman spent 10 years exhausted, stuck in a world-line and body not her own for one person. Even if it's only Hsy with half her memories, she gave up her perfect world-line because she missed Kdj. Just like Kdj loves Yjh, Hsy also loves every version of Kdj. She wanted to meet him, no matter what the world-line. My girl had only a few hours where she was in control and decided to use off all those hours to write TWSA - a story she herself disliked. Hsy wants to see Kdj happy, every part of Hsy loves Kdj. There is nothing a writer could love more than an avid reader who loves their story. And let's talk about the fact that Yjh and Hsy absolutely hate each other. He is literally her creation (more or less) but their relationship is questionable. Why? Because a protagonist has no value without a reader. Kinda like Asuka Ren and Kyrgios Rodgraim. They have no special relationship despite being creator and creation. Since there is no reader, Asuka and Kyrgios are as distant as two people can be. Alternatively, what brings Hsy and Yjh together is Kdj.

I just can't get enough of the way ORV relationships are written. If I had to describe love as a writer, I'd cite ORV as an example.

[wlntrsldler]

poisoned mercury | check yes, juliet

a/n: poisoned mercury is officially over halfway finished! i'll be posting poisoned mercury playlists soon! pls continue to send me songs that remind you of this series. i'm running out of songs to use as titles. thank u for all the love on this fic &lt;3

series masterlist | previous | next

vi. check yes, juliet by we the kings

“where are we going?” 

“are you going to ask that every two seconds?” 

“you kidnapped me, castellan.” 

luke stopped in his tracks, raising an eyebrow at you. you were about a quarter mile away from camp now, and it seemed like every ten steps, you asked him the same question. if he didn’t find you so cute, he would turn around and walk straight back to camp. 

“i will throw you over my shoulder and carry you the rest of the way there, five star,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes teasingly. he wasn’t opposed to the idea, but by the look on your face, you certainly were. “don’t test me.” 

“and i will scream bloody murder if you do,” you narrowed your eyes at him in a challenging manner. 

“here i am, trying to do something nice for you and you accuse me of kidnapping you,” luke continued his steps, slowing down to let you catch up to him. he didn’t realize how much shorter you were than him. the top of your head just went past his shoulders, but your personality made up for the difference. “we’re almost there, keep up.” 

“not everyone has long legs, castellan,” you huffed, increasing your pace. “slow down.” 

“do you want to get there or not?” he asked, throwing you a teasing smile over his shoulder. you guys really needed to get there soon. the sun was beginning to set and he didn’t want you to have to walk in the dark, even if he was with you. your safety came first, above everything, and he wasn’t gonna put you in a potentially dangerous situation. 

you whined, tugging on the side of his t-shirt, “how much longer?” 

“that’s it,” luke declared, squatting down to throw you over his shoulder. you squealed, hitting his back with your balled up fists. he knew you didn’t do it to hurt him. he can feel you pulling your punches. 

you felt the vibrations from his laughter on his back. luke was enjoying this too much. he carried you over his shoulder like it was nothing. perhaps all those morning workouts were paying off. you twisted your neck to scold him, thankful that he couldn’t see the smile on your lips, “put me down, i swear to god.” 

“nope,” he replied, popping the ‘p.’ he tapped your calf with his fingers, “it’s just around the corner.” 

luke put you down in front of a building. there were five store fronts, three of which had faulty neon lights. you could barely make out the store names. the other two stores had signs up declaring vacancy. it was a little sketchy, but luke seemed to love it. he had his hands on his hips, staring up at the sign that seemed to say “achilles arcade.” 

“what is this place?” luke held the door open for you as you wandered inside the store. the place was dimly lit with old-school arcade games lining the walls. an old man was sitting on a stool behind the counter, reading the morning paper. 

“just wait,” luke grinned, pulling on your hand to lead you to get some tokens, “chiron! my man.” 

the man placed the newspaper on the surface, eyes lighting up at the sound of luke’s voice. he beamed, “luke castellan! i was afraid you weren’t gonna come back.” 

“you know i keep my promises,” luke let go of your hand, introducing you to chiron, “chiron, this is yn. she goes to camp with me.” 

“pleasure to meet you,” he tipped his head, reaching under the counter to dig out a bucket full of golden tokens. 

you took out your wallet, “how much do we owe you?” 

“on the house,” he waved off, “he donated a ridiculous sum of money to keep this place up and running. too generous, this one, so it wouldn’t be right for me to charge you when he’s keeping me in business.” 

luke shook his head, sliding a hundred across the counter anyway. he took your wallet and stuffed it in his back pocket, knowing that you’ll probably try to slip him some cash if he didn’t. you grumbled, but decided not to pick a fight. it didn’t seem like one you’d win. 

luke grabbed the bucket by the handle and turned to you, “where do you want to start, five star?” 

“you took me to an arcade?” 

“yeah,” luke said, sheepishly, “whenever i run out of cigs, i always go to an arcade to keep my mind off things. it’s childish, but it works. figured you could try it. plus, there’s a smoke shop across the street so we can go there when we’re done here.” 

“only one thing is better than the feeling of a new cherry ice vape,” you got close to him, nearly toe to toe. luke could smell the perfume on your skin, the scent of your shampoo, and his cologne that lingered on the hoodie of his that you wore. he reminded you that you always got cold and that you should bring a sweater, but you assured him that you wouldn’t. halfway to the arcade, you were shivering and luke knew that he made the right decision bringing his hoodie with him. 

you rolled your eyes, but accepted it. his hoodie stopped mid-thigh and engulfed you, but it looked better on you than it ever did on him. something about you wearing a hoodie that had his band name on it made his heart skip a beat. he had to listen to you make fun of him for tripping over air after he saw you in his clothes, but he didn’t expect anything less from you. 

he licked his lips, eyes darting to your own, “and what is that, five star?”

“beating your ass at galaga.” 

luke’s laughter echoed throughout the empty arcade as you ran from him with the tokens in your hand. you looked back at him with a mischievous smile on your face and he felt his heartstrings tug in his chest. you stuck your tongue out at him, starting the game as he stayed in his spot, admiring you. 

there weren’t many moments where he could be out in public like this, so when his mom reluctantly agreed to stop at this building on the way to camp due to a flat tire, luke and the boys were ecstatic to find that there was an empty arcade hidden in montauk. luke talked to chiron and learned his story while the boys played random games to kill the time. luke found out that the arcade wasn’t doing well financially with the increase in rent prices and that they would have to close down at the end of the summer if things don’t pick up again. chiron mentioned that he and his partner started this business twenty years ago, and he was sad to see it go. 

luke excused himself and snuck back into the tour bus to grab his checkbook. he wrote a check that covered rent and other expenses for the year and gave it to chiron. of course the man refused it, but luke wasn’t taking no for an answer, not after chiron shared that the arcade was the last living piece of his partner. luke castellan was a hopeless romantic, which not many people knew. he knew he was done for the minute he heard their love story. 

he stood there for a few moments, watching as you cheered, dodging the blasts of your enemies. you were so animated while you played, so expressive with your eyes and your voice. he’d only seen you like this a handful of times, talking to clarisse about god knows what, talking to the younger campers and asking them questions about their projects and interests, and when you asked him about his music. all of your monotoned replies and deadpan looks were all he got for the longest time, it seemed like your nonchalance was only for him, so it was nice to see you like this. it felt like you were warming up to him. 

he thought about the talk the two of you had in your room, how different you’d been then. after being iced out for weeks, luke was a little shocked at how soft you were with him earlier, playing with his rings, holding his hand, talking to him. it was a welcomed surprise, of course, but he expected you to kick him to the curb. he still didn’t understand what actually happened after the concert, but he figured you already had a tough day, so that conversation can wait. 

he made his way to you, leaning across the screen to slightly block your view, “you might be better than me at this game, but your ass is mine at guitar hero.” 

“not fair,” you were focused on the game, eyes glued on the screen in front of you. “you’re in a band. of course you’re gonna be better than me at that.” 

“life’s not fair, five star,” luke poked your side, making you squirm. you died in the game because of it. “my turn, yeah?” 

you shoved his chest, reluctantly moving over. “you cheated.” 

he looked over his shoulder, smirking, “how did i cheat?” 

“you distracted me!” 

“i did not!” he argued, chuckles escaping his lips. his tongue darted out the corner of his mouth. his concentration face was annoyingly attractive. 

“did too,” you mumbled, watching over his shoulder to see how he was doing. he was doing really well. damn teenage boys and their affinity for video games. your chin rested comfortably on his shoulder blade as you watched him play. 

luke’s breath hitched in his throat, suddenly too aware that you were so close to him. he could feel your breath against the nape of his neck, your lips dangerously close to where his tattoo was. he snuck a glance at you, noting how you were too focused on his score inching closer to your own. 

“ha!” you yelled, pulling away from him. you bumped his hip with yours, moving him out of the way, “my turn.” 

“okay, you cheated.” 

you hit pause on the game, placing your hands on your waist, “how?” 

“you were distracting me! putting your head on my shoulder and shit.” 

“awww,” you cooed, playfulness in your tone, “do i make you nervous?” 

luke’s face flushed. he shook his head, tilting his head down to hide the color on his face. he rubbed the back of his neck, “play your fucking game.” 

you said something about him being a sore loser and cheered loudly when you beat his score. when you both ran out of lives, luke led you to guitar hero and as expected, kicked your ass at the game. the two of you played in the arcade until there was one golden token left in the bottom of the bucket. as you wandered around the room, your eyes landed on a black and white photobooth tucked away in the corner. 

“let’s take some pictures,” you grabbed his hand, leading him over there before he could say no. you shoved him inside the photobooth, tapping his knee to make him stop manspreading on the small bench. 

it could barely fit two people so it was a tight squeeze. you were sitting so close to luke, thighs pressed together as you tapped on the small screen to begin the process. luke could feel the warmth of your skin against his and he was glad that there was no colored photos option because his cheeks were bright red. maybe he can blame the lights making him feel hot if you brought it up, but he wasn’t sure if his voice even worked enough to utter out his excuse. 

“you better smile, castellan,” you threatened, turning to look at him before you inserted the token in the slot. “not that little side smirk shit that you do in all your pictures.” 

“what side smirk?” 

“that thing you do in your pictures!” you shouted, “in every single instagram post, you always do it.” 

luke raised an eyebrow, a cocky smile appearing on his lips, “you’ve stalked my instagram?” 

“not the point,” you ducked, pretending to mess with the settings of the photobooth. luke can see your shy smile on the screen in front of him. “i’m just saying, smile normally.” 

“that’s how i smile, five star! what do you want me to do?” 

“that is not how you smile!” you argued. you took a deep breath, steadying yourself as you faced him. he was already looking at you, soft eyes and a hint of a smile on his features. a stray curl was out of place on his head and you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching over to put it back in place. luke held his breath as your fingers grazed the side of his face, taking much longer than you needed to fix his hair. your thumb subconsciously rubbed against the scar on his cheek. luke let his eyes close at the feeling. 

“there,” you whispered, pulling your hand back to your side. “that’s how you smile.” 

he tried his best to keep that same expression on his face to see what you were talking about. he glanced at the screen and found himself stunned at what he found. you were right. this is not how he looked in his instagram pictures. he almost didn’t recognize himself as he stared. he looked different like this. 

there were no creases between his eyebrows or on his forehead, like there was no stress on his shoulders. his eyes looked brighter somehow as if he was at peace, exactly where he needed to be at that moment. his lips were quirked up in a tender smile, parts of his teeth showing between the gap of his top lip and bottom lip. did he always look like this when he was with you? awe-struck and enraptured by your presence? 

he should feel pathetic, but he couldn’t bring himself to, not when you were looking at him like you enjoyed this clandestine look on his face, a look that he reserved only for you. he couldn’t feel pathetic when you were looking at him in the same way. a secret language between the two of you, that nobody else in the world could even begin to understand.

the countdown on the screen started and luke was pulled from his thoughts quickly when you pressed your cheek against his, grinning as the timer flashed across the screen. he let himself smile, teeth on full display before the flash went off. the second countdown began and luke watched you fumble around to pick the next pose. you settled on a silly pose, sticking your tongue out as you held up the ‘rock and roll’ sign with your hand. he followed your lead, letting a snicker leave his lips at how fitting the pose was. 

the final photo was uncoordinated. luke wasn’t ready for the flash to go off. you placed your hand on his shoulder, craning your neck to look up at him. if he leaned down an inch or two, his lips would touch yours. the realization had the wires in his brain crossed. when the machine took the picture, luke was staring lovingly into your eyes, a look of indecision on his face. his lips were curled into a bashful smile, the tip of his nose touching yours. 

“five star,” luke breathed out, his arm snaking around your waist. your leg was now placed on top of his own. 

you gulped, nudging his nose with yours, “luke…” 

he’d never heard his name leave your lips before other than when you were mocking the gossips you heard about him. he’d never heard your real voice call him by his name. now that he has, he was addicted to the sound of it. he never liked his name that much, but somehow, when you said it, it sounded like poetry. he never thought a single syllable could sound so beautiful, have his knees buckling at the utterance of it. but with you, he supposed there was always a first for everything. 

when the bright red words stating “your photos are ready!” illuminated the inside of the photobooth, the two of you jumped apart from each other, blushing wildly. luke took a moment for himself inside the photobooth, rubbing his face with his palms, as you walked out to retrieve the pictures. luke followed you after taking a few deep breaths. 

he saw you leaning against the wall, the two strips of pictures in your hand. you had a goofy grin on your face, admiring them. luke sauntered next to you, taking a look at the photos. 

he accepted the strip of photos you handed him, “we probably should’ve discussed our poses beforehand.” 

“i dunno,” you were still staring at the pictures, biting your bottom lip. “i like ‘em.”

luke hummed, taking out his wallet. he folded the strip in threes, slotting the last photo in the clear compartment of his wallet. it looked perfect against the black leather, like it was the last thing needed to make his wallet look complete. he slipped it back in his back pocket, taking yours out to return to you. 

“smoke shop?” he asked. 

“please,” you nodded, beginning to walk out of the arcade. you waved goodbye to chiron who moved onto doing the daily crossword. “bye chiron! great to meet you!” 

he bid the two of you goodbye, a knowing gaze on his face. you were already out the door when he sent luke a wink that had him shaking his head, face turning red at the man’s antics. luke shut the door behind him, ushering you over to the sidewalk towards the smoke shop, “i’m out of cigs too, so this is actually perfect timing.” 

you waited outside the smoke shop, sitting on the curb. luke had a fake id (for research purposes, of course. he was just curious to see what the kentucky ids looked like.) so he bought your vape and his cigarettes. when he emerged, he joined you on the curb, pulling out his phone to call an uber back to camp. 

the sun was long gone and he could hear the owls hooting in the distance. it was not a good idea to walk back to camp, even if it wasn’t even a mile away. he watched you unwrap your vape, taking a small hit from it. he lit his cigarette with the lighter he carried with him and smoked with you in silence. 

“uber is gonna take twenty minutes,” he said, placing his phone between the two of you, face up. “i’m guessing there’s not many people around here.” 

you glanced at his phone, giggling at his lockscreen. it was a picture of the entire band, wearing matching novelty sunglasses taken at a .5 angle. they looked ridiculously like the guys you’ve grown to adore. “i like your lockscreen.” 

luke tapped his phone to wake it up. he let out a laugh, “mom took it when we played vegas for the first time. we were too young to go out and we were too afraid to use our fakes so we went to m&m world and got wired on sugar.” 

“you guys are really close, huh?” 

“got to be,” luke shrugged, “we’re together 24/7, but even before that… these guys are my brothers. love ‘em, even when they’re a pain in my ass. what’s your lockscreen?” 

you pulled out your phone, showing him the picture of you, clarisse, and silena flipping off the camera. it was taken during one of your (failed) attempts at studying at the library. you were all in sweatpants and large hoodies with the stress of midterms evident on your faces. “that’s silena, my other best friend from unc. her boyfriend, charlie, took this picture because he said we looked absolutely miserable. and we do, but it makes me happy looking back at it. we were struggling together and we somehow made it out together.” 

“i do not miss school at all,” luke blew out the smoke in his mouth, “i was a shit student.” 

“but now look at you,” you teased, “mr. rockstar.” 

“yeah, yeah,” luke copied your voice, “can’t complain.” 

you hummed, tucking your vape in the pocket of luke’s hoodie, “you can, especially with me. i’m the number one hater, so i enjoy complaining quite a bit.” 

“oh, i know.” 

you smacked his arm, rolling your eyes as he stumbled in his seat, laughing. you cleared your throat, voice turning serious, “seriously. i owe you for today, so complain to me all you want.” 

“you don’t owe me shit, five star,” luke put out his cigarette, standing up as his phone alerted him that the uber was coming soon. he held out his hand to help you up. “but i will take you up on that offer. of course, i can only do that if you don’t ignore me for weeks again.” 

you slapped his hand away, shaking your head, smiling, “shut the fuck up.” 

luke flagged down the uber, placing a hand on your lower back to lead you into the backseat. you entered, making polite conversations with the lady in the driver’s seat. 

“for chase?” 

luke nodded, “yup, thanks so much.” 

as the car drove off in the direction of camp, you turned to luke, mouthing, “chase?” 

he took out his wallet and handed you his fake id: chase reed, brown eyes, brown hair, 5’11. 

luke safely tucked the id back in its slot when you tossed it back at him, giggling at his alter-ego. he didn’t say anything when you moved closer to him, sitting in the middle seat, and held his hand the rest of the way back to camp.

[hyacinthusmemorial]

TW: Mentions of SA

In my works, and other places, people have been asking me my opinion on Achilles attacking Troilus. I would just preface I’m not an expert on the Trojan War. I was sick the week we did the Iliad in high school and they made me perform as Odysseus when we read the Odyssey and i had no clue what was happening, but I am in the process of reading it now.

I think if you are studying these events from the perspective of the god Apollo, then Achilles kind of loses his Brad Pitt appeal that the movie Troy (which I have never seen) gives him. So if Achilles is your guy, stop reading. I’m thought dumping.

There is something wicked and powerful about Achilles k*lling and r*ping Apollo’s own son on his own altar in his own temple. Because that is the implication of the iconography and artwork.

Achilles drags Troilus by his hair to the altar of his father and the story doesn’t say if Achilles r*pes him, but it is implied. For one it talks about Achilles being overcome with lust for Troilus, who is the image of Apollo in human form. A beautiful golden haired, youth.

Not only is Troilus the son of Hecuba, he’s Apollo’s image. Sources say he is the most beautiful of the Trojans and Greeks. But he has been designated a fate where he represents the city of Troy. Hence the name Troilus. If he reaches adulthood, the city survives. If he dies as a youth, the city will fall.

Athena leads Achilles to Troilus to ensure his death and thus Troy’s fall. She does not account for HOW Achilles kills Troilus.

He sees Troilus on his horse, and he is overcome with lust. I think he probably offers Troilus some sort of deal, come sleep with me and I will let you and your sister go, but Troilus refuses and runs away and hides in his father’s temple. He is a little kid running to his father for help. But, Achilles breaks in, finds Troilus, and enraged kills him either on or near the altar of Apollo.

Troilus is the image of Apollo. He is his son. He is a prince of Troy. I think this is a tipping point for everything—the point of no return.

This seals Troy’s fate, but I think the reason for that are because of Troilus’s death. I think before this point there is the possibility there will be peace. I think Big Bro Hector would have sent Helen back, I think peace would have been sued for and Troy would stand. But Fate has to be accomplished. This is the point where Troy no longer gives a damn—their prince has been m*rdered and r*ped on the altar of their chief god. Priam is upset because he loved Troilus as his own son, and he calls Achilles a child-slaughterer after that. Hecuba is besides herself, and Hector wants to kill Achilles. I think this is the point where they decide that, yes, they are going to die fighting this war, but they have a GOOD REASON to. It’s not about Paris and Helen and Aphrodite and a dumb apple. It’s about a boy being murdered.

But Apollo, Apollo is now vengeance. He is acting as an arm of fate. He’s already peeved at Achilles, who had killed another son Tenes. (A different story about Achilles r*ping someone)

I said this to one of my commenters—an altar is a god’s dinner table. Apollo’s hands are tied by something—either Fate or Thetis or his Father, and he cannot stop Achilles who is savagely attacking his own son on his own table. He has to watch, has to sit there and taste his own son’s blood in his mouth, watch him brutally die.

Achilles’s fate is sealed. Apollo is going to kill Achilles. It’s just nine years later.

In the art, Thetis, Athena, Apollo and Hermes are in the background of this event. Athena and Thetis as support of Achilles, but it makes me curious what Hermes is doing there. Is he holding Apollo back? Has Thetis begged Zeus for Achilles life? Athena regretfully watching as she accomplishes her plan only to realize WHY it worked?

I think in this way you can fashion the Trojan War as a direct conflict between Apollo and Achilles. Everything else is going on around it, but at the heart of it, is Apollo and Achilles. Apollo waiting for his father and the fates to give him the go ahead because Achilles will die, and Apollo is going to take away everything from him in the process. Briseis, Patroclus, and then he’s going to take his life.

Achilles is the villain in Apollo’s story. He’s invulnerable, he’s circumventing fate, he r*pes anything under his power, he disrespects the gods. He is a lesson in what men do when no one can stop them, and the most powerful thing is that the Father wins. He finds and kills his son’s murderer even after all the roadblocks in his way.

Troy is a revenge story, and if I ever get to writing it in my series, it’s going to be written like a revenge story.

[ellilyre]

Just imagine if the guys of the Iliad were yeeted in PJO universe

Odysseus is lowkey terrified of Percy but also he knows befriending Poseidon's son is definitely better than making him an enemy. So he's like "that's great Percy I'm proud of you 👍" but constantly keeps a distance of minimum 5m between them, safety measure. Leo once mentions dating Calypso and Ody immediately has a mental breakdown.

The constant beef between Achilles and Will because 1) Apollo 2) they both are healers and they would aggressively disagree on medecine techniques ("wtf would you use that for an arrow wound are you stupid" "shut up my boyfriend never died because of me")

Also Patroclus and Nico chilling under a tree like "are all blond men like that?" "no. Maybe it's just the blond demigods"

Put Agammenon and Clarisse in a room together and 15mn later he will come out crying

Helen gets kidnapped by cabin 10 and Menelaus has to wait outside. Beckendorf comes to him "girlfriend too pretty ?" "girlfriend too pretty" and they nod at each other in silence

Diomedes and Jason bond over common childhood traumas experiences ("I started combat training not long after my dad died when I was 4yo" "woah its about the same age I first met the pack of wolve who raised me")("just bc im the son of Zeus everyone expects me to be this flawless leader. But I don't even have the time to ask myself if I want that. "oh trust me I know how you feel")

Annabeth definitely becomes besties with Ody and Diomedes. They probably play 3 persons chess while talking about the shits they've all done for Athena

By the end of the day everyone agrees the gods suck and everything is always their fault

[justawritterwithideas]

Who's your daddy? | s.r

summary: After a long day's work, the BAU returns to the head office where they find a stroller with a small baby sleeping and a child very determined to surprise his father… But who's his father?

warnings: too much fluff, spencer!dad, my best attempt at Spencer dad because it's 24/7 on my mind. I REALLY ENJOYED WRITING IT, AAAAAAAAAAA. This story is not spencer x reader, i wanted to try something different so i created a character. I hope you guys like it.

words: 4,241.

a/n: I decided to surprise myself and try the family/family found challenge from one of my favorite writers in the whole universe, @imagining-in-the-margins. I used, I think, one of my favorite concepts which is "secret family/spouse/child" for this little au.

i want to remind you that English is not my first language, so if there are mistakes I hope you will forgive me :( I hope you like it, plus I really enjoyed being able to try something new and outside of what I usually focus my writing on. THANK YOU, TQM.

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Catching criminals is a good way to kill time.

The BAU team knew this perfectly well, that's why they were dedicated to it. Every day was a new experience trying to find and capture the worst of the worst of humanity. Even though sometimes they just wished those freaks would take a day off.

The last case had sent them all the way to Silicon Valley, successfully catching the unsub and making it safely back to the FBI offices.

What they didn't expect was to find their technical analyst and friend, Penelope, gazing in amazement at the inside of a stroller.

"What is that, Penny?" asked Emily, walking up to the blonde figure who was totally engrossed by what she was seeing in that baby carriage. The group approached silently, after seeing the woman's signal for them to come as quietly as possible, and saw inside it.

A small baby was sleeping comfortably inside. They estimated that he was about eight months old; they could see a few strands of thin brown hair that were tousled falling down his forehead, his little nose was puckered and his little hand clenched the tail of a fluffy lion. His outfit was as cute as possible: his body was adorned by a white long-sleeved T-shirt with an iguana on it and a leaf-green overalls, but much of his body was covered by a gray blanket.

"Isn't that the cutest thing you've ever seen?" Penn looked up, feeling her heart stir. "I went out to greet you and found this beautiful creature. He was sleeping and alone, so I decided to keep him company until someone came to claim to be the father of this beautiful peach." J.J couldn't fall for the charms of that baby, after becoming a mother her Achilles heel was children.

"Was he alone, Penelope, are you sure there was no one with him?" Luke couldn't help but wonder how it was possible that they had left a baby, alone, in the middle of a hallway in a federal building. "Positive, I've been there for about ten minutes and I haven't seen anyone approach him."

The team brought their full attention to the mysterious stroller, looking for some sign of what would be the perpetrators. Hanging there was a gray-colored bag with a small giraffe keychain; inside it was the necessities for any kind of emergency that might happen. Diapers, change of clothes, some food, powdered milk, a bottle, everything necessary for a baby.

"We should check the cameras to see who brought him here" Matt suggested, feeling his nose being invaded by the smell of baby cologne, a very mild and almost hypnotic one.

"It's a blind spot, Matt." Tara replied, noticing how the little guy rolled over and let out an adorable yawn, falling back asleep. "He's too cute." Penelope's eyes seemed to shoot hearts.

"We should move him out of the hallway, it's drafty and he might catch a cold." J.J brought her hands up to the carriage and began to push it, being followed by the rest of the people back to their cubicles.

Despite the movement, the little boy, who was now nicknamed "peach" thanks to Garcia, remained in that deep sleep.

"I wish I had that deep sleep" Emily smiled, looking at peach's features.

He looked like someone.

Who was it?

"I want to go back to those times where my only problem was sleeping and eating" Rossi commented, causing his colleagues to laugh.

"I don't understand how a baby could have gotten up there without anyone seeing him. It's a building full of federal agents, there's no way no one saw anything." Matt nodded at Luke's words. "Let's jump to conclusions, how did a sleeping baby get here? There's no way he pushed his own car to get here." J.J peeled his gaze from the car, feeling a light bulb in his head turn on.

"In the bag there were juice boxes, it is unlikely that they are for him. It is recommended that at twelve months they can only have juice, so they may be from the parent or he has a brother or sister accompanying him" Rossi smiled, nodding at the words the young woman was saying. It was quite logical coming from the mother bear.

"If that were so, where is this responsabl-"

"Excuse me," A high pitched voice interrupted Luke's sentence "I believe you have my brother."

The group turned to see where the voice was coming from. A small figure was standing behind them, he looked quite calm and was running his hands down his brown pants.

The small glasses were drooping down the bridge of his nose, his hair was disheveled just like his little brother's and his hands were arranging the sleeves of his blue hoodie.

"I-is he your brother?" Emily stood at the height of the youngest, who was nodding before he approached the baby carriage and took to watching the little one, inwardly thankful that he remained in his deep sleep.

"I just went to the bathroom and when I came back he was gone." The little boy drew an elongated smile, taking in the faces of everyone around the stroller. " You're federal agents, so I didn't panic too much when I didn't see him."

The boy settled on the floor, taking off the backpack he was carrying and pulled out of it a book, which had in golden letters the title of "The Little Prince." Apparently, it was in French.

"How do you know we're federal agents?" Luke seemed just as surprised as the others, who didn't understand how the youngest could remain calm after taking his brother away, and besides, he knew they were federal agents.

"It says so on your badge, sir" The small hand pointed in the direction of the badge hanging from his pants, causing everyone to turn their gaze to it. "Besides, my mom told me."

"And where is your mom?" Rossi was the one who took the word, smiling at the confidence the young man possessed.

"That's a good question, sir. I'd like to know where she is, too." He shrugged, trying to remember what the woman had told him before leaving him in the hallway of the BAU office. "I know she told me, but at the moment I can't remember. It was too noisy when she said it."

The rest were silent. The little boy was handling a rather formal vocabulary, one that is very strange for his age, plus he looked quite interested in reading his book than paying attention to the rest of the stares.

"Excuse me, sweetheart… But how old are you?" Penelope smiled friendly towards the young man, who took his eyes off his interesting book.

"Five and a half, but many say from the way I talk I'm older."

Luke opened his mouth, surprised at the young age he possessed and that, moreover, he was in charge of his brother.

"What about your brother, how old is he?"

"He's eight months and two weeks old, he's still not close enough to say he's nine months old, so I'd rather be exact."

Emily was increasingly sure that he looked like an exact copy of someone she knows, but she couldn't associate it.

"Even so," Continued the young boy "there's something you guys haven't asked me" the book took a step back, closing it and setting it down on his lap.

"What's that, kiddo?" Tara asked.

"My name or my brother's" The group looked at each other. He was right, they had been so preoccupied with finding out about the person in charge of them or their age that they had overlooked asking his name.

"You're right, that was rude of us, what's your name?" Matt fixed his gaze on the young figure, who was giving them a smile where one of his front teeth was missing.

"I'm Alex, well… Actually my name is Alexander, but my mom and dad call me Alex, except when they're mad." A small giggle escaped Jennifer's mouth. "And my brother's name is Oliver, but we call him Oli."

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Alex." Matt's hand extended in the direction of the little boy, who shook it with a smile. "What about you guys, what are your names?"

The group smiled, introducing themselves to each other so that the young boy could remember each name without a problem. After this, the little boy began to repeat the names, making sure he could remember each one well and be able to get each name right.

"Okay, Alex. Now that we know each other, I want to ask you a question" J.J addressed the little one, who gave him his full attention.

"Shoot, Miss J.J" His answer caused everyone to laugh, letting the little guy's charisma win them over.

"What are you doing here? I don't think you decided to come here at nine o'clock at night with your brother and mother just to see the place."

"Well, we actually came to see my dad." Admitted the little boy, adjusting his glasses.

"Your dad? And where is he?" Penelope searched with her gaze, as if she were on her computer looking up the information on her servers.

"It's a surprise! Dad doesn't know we're here, it's the first time we've come to see him at work. I wanted to surprise him so I asked Mom if she could bring me here, and since I've been good, she agreed." Proudly, Alex reached into his backpack for a neatly folded piece of paper. He opened it and held it out to J.J., who was surprised at the grades on that slip of paper.

"Wow, I see only A's here" The printout passed from hand to hand, noting that every course had been passed with the highest grade.

"Yep, even sports! Mr. Adams, my teacher, said I'd been the fastest in the class. Even though I prefer literature, I got along better with letters than balls."

Emily was sure she was a clear copy of the youngest on her team, Spencer Reid.

Wait, where was Spencer?

"Where is Spencer?" Emily turned her gaze to her buddies, who were handing the paper back to Alex so he could put it in his backpack.

"He said he was going to do some stuff on the fourth floor, then he'd be on his way here." Tara replied, turning her attention back to the little boy. "By the way, what's your dad's name? Maybe we can help you look for him, we're the best profiling group in the whole FBI, so we can find him fast."

"His name is Dad!"

"And what's your mom's name?"

"Mom?"

The group went blank. It was clear that a five-year-old wouldn't know what his father or mother's name was. Despite being quite intelligent, to him his parents were called "Mom and Dad."

But it seemed they had managed to summon something, for after mentioning the progenitor of both, little Oliver interrupted their conversation with a whimper announcing that his bedtime was over, plus his beloved mother figure was missing.

"Oh no…"

Alex moved in the direction of the backpack, opening it to look for his brother's pacifier.

The longer they lingered, the louder and louder the little boy's crying got. J.J tried to cuddle him, trying to soothe him while Emily rocked the stroller back and forth and Tara hummed a lullaby.

Luke and Matt were trying to distract him, waving their hands in front of him and making funny faces. Rossi was trying to help Penelope and little Alex with the search for the pacifier, who would occasionally bring his hands to his ears to stop the sound of his brother for a couple of seconds.

But silence came in surprise, causing everyone to stop their actions. Their gazes turned to the baby, who was giving a giggly laugh and wiggling his feet, babbling something. It looked like Oliver was feeling something.

"What's going on here?" a female voice interrupted them, again directing their gaze back.

A tall woman, who was wearing a simple beige sweater and black pants plus black converses, was approaching the stroller. The group of people moved away from her, who was leaving a plastic bag with a box in it on one of the desks and holding the baby in her hands.

She made sure to settle him on her shoulder, stroking his back slowly. Alex smiled, moving closer to the young woman and hugged her side, letting his glasses lift a little from being so tight against her.

"Mommy! Where were you, I thought you'd left me alone forever! Well… Not alone, I was with Oli but you know what I mean." The woman let out a giggle, bringing her free hand to the younger one's disheveled hair and stroked it, feeling the younger one squeeze tighter and tighter.

"Alex, love, I told you I was going to the store to buy Daddy's donuts, don't you remember?" She pushed little Oliver away so she could kiss his forehead and settle him back into the stroller. Her hands, now free, went to Oli's side and took a small pacifier, bringing it up to the baby's mouth, which he immediately accepted to begin sucking on.

"Oh… That's what you told me."

Thewhole group let out a laugh, noticing the little one's rosy cheeks. The woman, now recognized as "mommy", turned to look at the group who had taken it upon themselves to care for her two children.

"Gee, sorry for ignoring you guys." The girl giggled, giving them the same look Alex had given them a few minutes ago, fixing on each one. "Thanks for watching them, I know Alex is responsible, but I'm glad to know there were older ones around."

"You don't have to, Alex was a sweetheart. We were nosy and took his little brother, it was our mistake." Emily admitted.

"That's right, Mommy! I went to the bathroom and they had taken Oli" The young woman simply laughed, kissing the younger boy's forehead before speaking again.

"It's okay, kiddo. They did the right thing, they did the reasonable thing."

"We tried to find out who his parents were, but he told us their names were mom and dad" Alex nodded, looking at his progenitor who seemed quite amused by the whole situation.

Alex took her mother's hand, motioning her to come closer to tell her something. The female complied, listening intently to what her young son was saying before she let out a giggle and nodded, returning to her position.

"Well, actually called me mommy. But before I was called mommy I had another name, pumpkin. My name is Amanda, but at home they call me mommy or baba." Alex opened his eyes, surprised that his mother had another name besides "mommy."

"It's a pleasure, Amanda. I see all your names start with a vowel." Rossi was the first to speak, reaching out to shake Amanda's hand. "Your husband's too?"

"No, he's the exception." The femme admitted, beginning to wave to the round of people standing there.

For a couple of minutes, the group began a pleasant conversation where they talked about the time she was missing. They had jumped to the wildest conclusions, but they knew that at some point they would meet the mother of those two angels.

"Oh, I bought a lot of donuts now that I remember, do you like them? They're my husband's favorite." The woman walked over to the bag, from which she pulled out the box and smiled.

The group appreciated the gesture, beginning to receive and distribute the pastry among those present.

A chocolate-covered doughnut with sprinkles on top was received by each person.

Wait… Her husband's favorite?

Emily looked at the two little ones, then her gaze went to the young woman, then to the doughnut and her eyes went back to the little ones.

Emily could feel her head smoking from the way she worked.

No, it wasn't possible.

Spencer would have told her if it was.

"Excuse me, Amanda…" The mentioned one looked up, fixing her gaze on Emily as little Alex took small bites of his donut and shared it with his mother. "What-what did you say your husband's name was?"

"Oh! I didn't say it, actually." She admitted, taking a bite of the donut she was sharing with Alex. "His name is Spe-"

The answer interrupted by the shout Alex gave, turning away from his mother to run down the hallway for the new presence.

"Daddy! Daddy!"

Spencer peered down the elevator, noticing how the small little man ran into his arms and pounced on him.

"Alex! What are you doing here, little one?" He carried the little guy, leaving a resounding kiss on his cheek and looked him in the face. His cheeks were covered with chocolate and his glasses were drooping gracefully down his nose. "Are you alone, who brought you?"

"Mom did!" The youngest was smiling happily, playing with his progenitor's hair. "Dad, did you know Mom has another name besides Mom, her name is Amanda!"

"Yes, buddy. I knew mommy's name was Amanda, but I affectionately call her Mandi."

"I thought you called her Mommy, not Mandi."

Spencer carried his little boy over to the cubicles, finding his work group/friends staring at him with stupefaction on their faces. He was sure their faces were perfect for being part of a surreal painting.

"Spence, surprise." Amanda approached the man, leaving a kiss on his lips and received her husband's kiss back.

"What are you two doing here?" Spencer looked at his family with some surprise.

"Three, daddy. Oli's here too" The little hand pointed toward the stroller, where the movement of the youngest of the Reid family could be heard.

Spencer walked over to the baby carriage, leaving the eldest of the Reid brothers on the floor and peeked out so he could see his little boy, his newest devotion.

"Hi Oli, are you awake yet? Daddy's here." Oliver watched his father with his big hazel eyes, moving his hands so he could reach one of his father's curls. "Hey, buddy. How big are you." The man took the little guy in his hands, drawing him into his body so he could carry him, smiling at the feel of his son's movement stopping as he began to pet him.

The whole group was silent, unable to believe that the youngest of their team had such a well-kept secret.

A wife and two children! How was it possible that even Emily hadn't known about this?

"Spencer…w-what is this? When did you intend to tell us? About your wife, about your children, about-about this!" Emily waved her hands around trying to take in the situation, feeling the pieces of the puzzle coming together on their own.

"I thought Hotch was going to tell you before he left." Spencer looked at the group of people, stopping his gaze on his wife who lifts her shoulders, trying to tell him "don't even look at me, I didn't say anything."

"Clearly he didn't say it" Jennifer looked at her best friend, trying to look as relaxed as possible, but it was impossible, I guess no one was trying to "act cool" at that moment.

"Well, I guess it's time to introduce you to my family." Amanda smiled, leaning against one of the desks as she watched Alex approach her. "This is Amanda, Amanda Reid, my wife" The young woman waved her hand, crossing her arms again with a smile on her mouth. She loved that he said my wife. "This is Alexander Reid and Oliver Reid, Alex and Oli of affection." Little Alex smiled, again waving to everyone with his hand and took what was left of the donut his mother offered him.

"How long have you been married?" Next to speak was Rossi, who felt Hotch had betrayed him by keeping that secret so long.

"Well, married… we've been married for five years. Dating we've been dating for seven…" Amanda turned to look at her husband.

"Seven years, five months and thirteen days." Spencer nodded, looking down at the baby who had just fallen asleep in his arms.

"So…" Matt looked over at Alexander, who looked amused eating the sprinkles on top of the donut.

"Yeah, Alex was a surprise. We knew we wanted to be parents, but we wanted to live together first, and well… The first night of living together caused Alex's arrival." Amanda laughed with her cheeks flushed, noticing how Spencer's cheeks were also filled with that crimson red. "Oli arrived after a couple of tries. We didn't want Alex to be alone and have to read all the books to himself."

"Now he reads Oli to sleep, like the good big brother he is" Spencer smiled, placing little Oliver in the most comfortable place to sleep.

After that confession, the pair settled in at the desk where the woman was sitting.

"I have so many questions I can't process, I really don't understand. So…how come we didn't see this in your apartment when you went to jail? We'd be completely blind if we hadn't noticed." Penelope had gotten to a good point, causing the friends to nod and the pair looked at each other before they could respond.

"It's because you guys went to Spence's old apartment." Amanda replied. "When we had Alex, we outgrew the apartment. We tried to look at an apartment in the same building, but they were all the same, so we pooled our paychecks and managed to rent a slightly larger apartment down the street from there. After Oliver came along we had to move to a bigger place." Spencer nodded, wiping the corner of his son's lip, which was full of chocolate. "But when Spence needs to focus, he goes to his old apartment to work. Diana was living there for a season and then she came to our house." The young woman pushed her hair back, feeling her husband's warm hand wrap around her hip.

The group was attentive to what they were saying, nodding at every word and concentrating on the story they had for them. Like little children, they formed around the young couple to follow their narrative.

"When Mexico and jail happened, it was really an ordeal. Hotch called us to get into the program with him and Jack, we had to go into hiding because we were Spencer's immediate family. Before Diana could hide she was kidnapped and, well, you know the rest of the story." Amanda's hand went to her son's hair, playing with the unruly locks of the scalp. They were exactly the same as his father's.

"But we would have known, I would have figured it out! H-how did you…?" Penelope was utterly convinced she would have found that information.

"It wasn't in the system." Spencer admitted. "I begged Hotch not to release it, it's manually, on paper. But online it's not, it was more likely to endanger my family." The young couple looked at each other and gave each other a smile. Sighing, Spencer continued. "Something like Foyet and Hotch would have happened, it was too dangerous. I wasn't willing to lose them and place them in danger."

Finally, the group of people began to understand, nodding at what he was saying and relaxing after that news.

"Spence had intended to tell them, but after Cat Adams, Scratch, Mexico, jail, Diana… I don't know when the time was right, to be honest with you." A collective chuckle filled the room echoing at that moment.

"Wow Spencer, you sure had this secret well hidden." Luke smiled, patting the younger man on the back, who was grinning broadly after breaking free of that secret that had him gnawing inside.

"Well, it's never too late to throw a welcome home party for the new family." Rossi smiled, moving closer to Amanda so he could hug her.

Mandi smiled receiving greetings from everyone, feeling like she was home.

"Good, then I'll start buying presents from now on. For both Oliver and Alex." Penelope smiled, receiving a wide smile from Alexander, who was the most excited to receive gifts. "I've missed so many birthdays and Christmases already."

"So…" Alex stole glances at everyone, who looked quite intrigued by his words. "Can I tell you aunties and uncles?"

That was the straw that broke the excitement level in the entire group, causing everyone to nod and smile broadly, feeling their chest heaving with joy.

"Did you see, Alex? Now you have lots of aunts and uncles to share, plus cousins." Spencer fell into step with his son, who was hugging him by the neck with a smile.

"That's right daddy, lots and lots!" The little boy turned to look at them all before stretching his arms out to hang around Luke's neck, who was greeting him with a smile that went so far as to make his cheeks ache.

The entire group stayed talking for a couple more minutes before deciding to head home to relax after a full day full of excitement.

Before she could get on the elevator, Emily smiled in the direction of the group of people.

"I think we know who his daddy is." Tara's whisper caused Emily to laugh and step onto the elevator, letting the doors close and signal the end of the work day.

The day had closed on a high note, not only for the capture of a criminal, but also for the discovery of a new family.

And Spencer couldn't be happier to finally reunite their families.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶

If you like it, don't forget to like and repost it.

kissesssss, bai. 💕

[northlt03]

Rick is known to mirror myths a lot (Silena-Clarisse and Patroclus-Achilles, Polyphemus' cave, Hercules' labors, etc) He could and SHOULD have mirrored the Trojan war in HOO.

Let me set the scene. Gaea doesn't pop up until the last couple books. It's easy to be scared of something that is mentioned but not seen, which in my opinion, is why Gaea in the HOO books just wasn't scary enough.

So the antagonists in the first few books are the Giants working under Gaea's orders. Percy is kidnapped by them and given to the Romans in the hope that the Greeks and the Romans will go batshit crazy in a fight and forget all about the prophecy of the seven and destroying Gaea or whatever.

Camp Halfblood is fully ready for war. As soon as they find out (through an oracle or smth idk) that the Romans exist and they have Percy, not even Chiron can stop them. Percy is the hero of the Battle of Manhattan, of course, and the hero mentioned in the last great prophecy. He's like their modern Aristos Achaion.

Meanwhile, the Romans have no clue what's going on. There's this guy he's funny, he has no memories, he just shows up at their wolf goddess and trains and gets sent to them. Cool.

Juno can't stand to see New Rome be attacked. Whether or not they would win is a whole different story. So she plucks Jason from CJ and brings them to the Greeks just for some sort of a balance.

This mirrors the Trojan war in the sense that Troy was a fortified city, so is New Rome with tons of forts and walls. Aeneas' lineage went on to be Remus and Romulus, the founders of Rome. And Helen of Troy was stolen from the Greeks.

Anyway so there's that conflict, but at the same time Camp Halfblood is getting ready to attack, Jason, Piper and Leo get sent on a quest to rescue Hera who has been captured by Porphyrion and Enceladus.

On the way, Jason starts to regain his memory a little bit, though he doesn't know everything yet. He's still super conflicted with everything. A pretty girl thinks they were dating, Leo says they were best friends, Annabeth says the Romans are enemies. But whom should he really believe?

Piper's whole arc through the first book could be about how she's the daughter of the goddess of beauty, she wrongly assumes her fake crush on Jason was her mom's fault. And she's learned so much bad stuff about her mom from myths, she outright rejects feminity and anything remotely girly at first but then slowly she gets to know Aphrodite isn't as bad as some myths make her out to be. Bonding and shit bc why should Poseidon be the only present godly parent?

Leo, meanwhile, has no idea he can essentially fire bend in the first book. His arc could be about discovering his mother's death was his fault, slightly and coming to terms with it with the help of his friends.

Reyna on the Roman's side is freaking out bc Octavian wants to go to war with the Greeks who are close to attacking them, there's a strange dude who keeps trying to pick fights with gods, a horse girl and not to mention monsters won't fucking DIE.

SON trio go on their quest to Alaska to kill Alcyoneus/ release Thanatos and things are getting clearer to them as well. Just when the Greeks are about to attack on CJ, Polybotes and the monsters attack as well. Somehow, both sides end up fighting the monsters together.

They're not friends, but they're not enemies either, bc Percy is reunited with his gf and Jason is returned to his home.

The Roman senate and the Greeks somehow come to the same conclusions- that a quest needs to go to their ancient lands. Over the next few months the work of the Argo II commences.

Things seem smooth for a while. But Gaea grows restless. She poisons Octavian and manipulates him through dreams and stuff like Kronos did to Luke. As is the nature of most Roman emperors, Octavian overthrows Reyna and declares himself the leader of New Rome like his namesake Octavius Caesar. (HAHA! HISTORY PARALLEL BITCHES)

This puts the actual quest on hold bc the seven now need to find the Athena Parthenos to bring together the Greeks and the Romans and to stop Octavian's plan of trying to fuck as much shit up as possible.

Reyna, Nico and say idk, Grover, are the ones to deviate from the quest and bring the statue to USA again. But the Seven are still very much in Europe after rescuing Nico.

Percy and Annabeth fall into Tartarus which helps close the Doors of Death, except this time since Nico isn't there, Hazel has to take on control over ghosts and the dead in the House of Hades and leading up to it. The powers of mist, in my opinion, should have gone to Piper since charmspeaking is a lot like bending the mist verbally.

Piper's arc through the third and fourth book is starting to discover herself and with the help of her mother, figuring out she doesn't like Jason romantically like she thought she did.

Hazel's arc is gaining control over what she once was (dead). She's jealous her dad was there more for Nico than her, but she pushes past it and never lets her anger and grudges get the better of her which is like breaking boundaries for children of Hades/Pluto.

Frank's arc in HOH was really cool, I like that. So no change to that.

Jason, poor guy is still very much confused about everything really. He's used to being the leader, he feels lost in the large group. He has his moments to shine ofc (please take away his excess amounts of head injuries), but he starts to feel inferior, which is where Leo helps him bc the guy knows what that's like.

Anyway, in the absence of Percy and Annabeth, Jason has to take charge. He discovers he doesn't really like it. That's not what he was meant for even though he had greatness thrust upon him at a very young age.

His BOO arc is earlier this time and takes place throughout HOH and BOO. He's content with himself, even if he isn't with anyone. HE'S THE ONE THAT GETS SENT TO OGYGIA!!!

And Calypso eventually does fall for him bc he's smart, nice, and just an overall swell guy. But he helps her to realize that she can be content in herself as well. And he promises her that he'll help her.

Show me Leo, Jason and Percy trying to think of ways of helping the goddess.

In any case. BOO could have been like Iliad pt 2 also known as the Odyssey. It takes them the whole book just to get to Athens. Meanwhile, they've understood that Gaea is the main main villain. She's even raised some of the other primordials against them.

Percy and Annabeth already saw Tartarus, and then there's Oceanus who makes their travel much harder than necessary. Something something about how they get tossed all over the place and somehow manage to gather all the correct ingredients for the potion (i forgot the name lol) on their small adventures in the different places. In the end they finally make it to Athens. Except this time, there's only a few giants there bc they killed the rest before.

Annabeth and Percy are taken hostage, like it happens in the books, but PERCY WILLINGLY GIVES UP HIS BLOOD TO RAISE GAEA RATHER THAN LETTING ANNABETH GET HURT BC OF HIS FATAL FLAW LIKE ATHENA TOLD HIM WOULD HAPPEN EVENTUALLY!!

The Gods DON'T SHOW UP PLEASE!! That was so lameee. Why even do the whole quest if their mommies and daddies were going to show up to help them????

So while Percy and Annabeth are battling the remaining few Giants, Leo, Piper, Hazel and Frank go up against Gaia herself. In the old myths four titans held Ouranos down while Kronos chopped his essence up. In the same way, they battle Gaia away from her turf in the air, keeping her distracted enough. All these demigods are needed because she's a primordial dammit!

Jason, my guy, comes in a clutch, chops her to pieces and sends her essence to Tartarus!!

The world is saved, the end!

[epicthemusical]

Trio to Solo

Okay so this all started with my friend mentioning the idea of Polites having an Achilles rage moment over Odysseus dying and then it just grew into this massive one shot! Anyway there are two fluffy parts that I use to enhance the angst so I hope you guys enjoy! Also @caramellcandy @notsolonedesert @justvea18 here is the idea I mentioned!

Odysseus lays there on the grass with Polites beside him as they gaze up at the stars. He has been so busy lately preparing to become king since his father has been rapidly deteriorating. The exhaustion and stress help him learn to enjoy these small moments that he took for granted. He doesn't know how Polites always managed to stay so happy all the time. He turns on his side to look at his friend.

"Hey Polites, how do you always greet the world with open arms?"

Polites turns toward him and reaches out for his hand fingers intertwining with his. The moonlight makes Polites glow faintly with his soft smile and unruly curls barely contained with his headband.

"Its easy for me to greet the world with open arms when you are my world. How could I refuse any part of you?"

The love and warmth in those brown eyes is overwhelming enough that he feels like he is drowning in it. Why does Polites always leave him breathless like this in these soft moments they share.

"That and well this world could always use more kindness. I like to think that I can make a difference in this world that has so much pain and hate. Being kind can change everything."

Odysseus never can fully understand how Polites stays so optimistic but he loves it all the same just like everything else about him. Even now bathed in moonlight he shines like a brilliant star, softer than his usual bright sunshine yet still bright enough to light up the world around him. He gently places his hand on Polites cheek with a soft smile.

"I hope you never change Polites."

----------------------

Polites stares as the body of his friend, his love is brought back to camp lifeless and covered in blood, so much blood. He grabs the shoulder of a nearby soldier.

"what happened."

His tone is cold but he can't get himself to care. He needs to know what happened, why is Odysseus laying there dead when he should be alive, his eyes sparkling as he comes up with another plan and laughing that deep laugh he always loved hearing.

"We had a ceasefire but someone from the enemy side attacked him from behind...we were to late to save him."

Polites freezes as unfamiliar heat flares to life, rage. They not only dared take Odysseus from him but they attacked him from behind like a coward?! He releases their shoulder not noticing the wince he had drawn from his tight grip and marches to his tent. He pulls on his armor and grabs his sword before he heads out only for Eurylochus to block his path.

"Get out of my way Eury."

Despite the childhood nickname his furious tone leaves no room for negotiation. Eurylochus looks exhausted as he also is grieving for Odysseus but he still refuses to back down.

"Polites please don't do this! This isn't what Odysseus would want!"

"Odysseus is dead! They took him from us, they took him from me! I'm going out there and nothing you say or do will stop me!"

Eurylochus is shocked at the pure venom in his voice and Polites takes that chance to leave ignoring any pleading for him to stop. He doesn't stop instead heading straight onto the battlefield. He dives into the thick of the fight as he cuts down enemy after enemy.

"Hey Polites, how do you always greet the world with open arms?"

He ignores the blood soaking him as screams grief and anger ringing clearly in his voice while tears stream down his face mixing with red making it look like he is crying blood.

"Its easy for me to greet the world with open arms when you are my world. How could I refuse any part of you?"

How can he care about greeting the world with open arms when his world is dead? He will never see his mischievous grin when he has a prank in mind or hear his laughter so full of life. An arrow lodges in his shoulder but he ignores it continuing to fight.

"That and well this world could always use more kindness. I like to think that I can make a difference in this world that has so much pain and hate. Being kind can change everything."

Odysseus trusted the ceasefire and it ended up killing him, kindness is not possible now that they killed him like cowards. He stumbles his vision starting to turn fuzzy as another arrow strikes his leg.

"I hope you never change Polites."

At last his body can't take anymore and he collapses to the ground. Tears continue falling as his vision fades to black.

I'm sorry Ody.. I couldn't stay kind like you wanted...

------------------------

Eurylochus and Polites head over to their meeting spot waiting for Odysseus to join them. As they settle down by the olive tree when something small and hard smacks them on the head. They look up and sure enough Odysseus sits there cackling like the gremlin he is holding a handful of pebbles.

They glance at each other smirking before Eurylochus grabs hold of Odysseus leg and tugs him down. Odysseus tumbles to the ground with a yelp and it's their turn to laugh. He stands up brushing the dirt of his chiton and acts annoyed but he is barely containing his own laughter.

"yeah, yeah laugh all you want I was going to share something with you but now I might not since your being jerks."

Predictably the laughter stops as Eurylochus tries to act like he isn't curious while Polites doesn't even try to hide it.

"what is it? Can't you please tell us! We're sorry for laughing!"

Odysseus acts like he is thinking about it just to watch them get impatient and finally breaks once Polites brings out his puppy dog eyes. Odysseus laughs and takes off the bag he had on him.

"okay I'll show you."

He reaches in and pulls out three cups and a wineskin.

"I snuck some of the good wine from the cellar at home."

Both Eurylochus and Polites look interested. They were still considered too young for wine. Polites does look a bit conflicted and Odysseus elbows him.

"Come on Polites live a little!"

Polites rolls his eyes with a bright grin as Odysseus hands out the cups.

""I'm not that bad Ody! I'm just not as much of a troublemaker as you!"

Eurylochus snorts with a sparkle in his eyes.

"Yeah right we all know you can cause just as much trouble as Odysseus."

Polites gasps dramatically trying to hold back laughter along with Eurylochus and Odysseus.

"Lies, I'm just a perfect little angel!"

They can't hold it in anymore and all burst into laughter. It takes a while before they calm down even then they are a little out of breath. The don't mind though because this moment is so happy with all of them together, they wouldn't trade this for the world. Odysseus pours some wine into their cups. Polites raises his cup with a grin.

"Let's toast to having each other's backs!"

Eurylochus and Odysseus raise their cups as well letting them clink together.

"No matter what happens and where we go, we will always have each other!"

All their voices ring out together as they drink down the wine. They spend the rest of the night laughing and joking occasionally wrestling. By the end they are curled up asleep in a tangled heap with cheeks aching from smiling so much.

The next morning they will come to regret the wine when they get a stern lecture while having pounding headaches but they will still treasure the memory of that night and the promise they made.

--------------------------

Eurylochus was right there when Odysseus was cut down, he was right there and yet he couldn't do anything to stop it. He follows as the men carry Odysseus back to camp and his initial denial and shock fade away leaving only overwhelming grief. He should be heading back into battle but instead he thinks of how Polites must know of Odysseus death and he attempts to push down his grief.

Polites will need him there and he refuses to leave him alone in his grief. While Odysseus is was his brother and dear friend he knows Odysseus meant so much more to Polites. While Odysseus loved Polite in his own way the love Polites had was left mostly unrequited once Penelope had entered the picture.

He leaves his sword in his tent and heads towards Polites hearing whispers along the way of his reaction to Odysseus death. He speeds up very much concerned about his friend. He had expected Polites to be devasted and grieving, for him to hide in his tent but to his shock and horror he spots Polites in full armor and a terrifying look on his face. It shows anger beyond anything he had expected from Polites of all people. He steps up to block his path.

"Polites please don't do this! This isn't what Odysseus would want!"

"Odysseus is dead! They took him from us, they took him from me!" I'm going out there and nothing you say or do will stop me!"

Eurylochus is sent reeling at the pure venom in Polites voice. This is a side of Polites he has never before seen and it terrifies him just how angry he is. But even with all the anger he can hear the underlying grief that is no doubt threatens to drown him. He continues to plead for Polites to stop but quickly realizes its useless as his friend continues onward.

Eurylochus curses himself for leaving his sword behind, he had expected to be comforting Polites not fighting. Polites had always focused mostly on being a medic to avoid hurting others as much as possible so the fact he is rushing into battle without even stopping to grieve leaves him with a sinking feeling in his gut. Polites is being beyond reckless and he knows its up to him to make sure he doesn't end up killing himself.

He grabs his sword as quickly as he can before rushing back into the fight searching frantically for Polites in the chaos of battle. There- he spots him in the crowd and he can feel hope start to well up at the sight of his friend who is still alive.

That hope falls flat as an arrow strikes Polites in the leg and he staggers before collapsing. Eurylochus carves his way through the crowd with desperation he rarely ever feels as fear starts creeping in.

no, no please don't let him die!

He finally reaches him and his knees hit the dirt hard as he turns Polites over trying to assess the damage if he is still alive. He flinches at the bloody tear tracks and glossy eyes.

"no..no Polites you can't leave me too!"

He searches for a heartbeat no matter how faint ignoring the logical part telling him that Polites is already gone. He can't...he can't be the last one left. Not only had he failed to keep them both alive but Polites also died alone. Polites always hated being alone yet he failed to be there for him.

He holds onto Polite's already cooling hand and something inside him cracks and breaks.He holds onto Polites as a few tears fall onto Polites as a sort of numb feeling spreads through him. He knows exactly what's happening, he is going into shock, but he can't find it in himself to care.

Eurylochus is bigger than Polites as he cradles Polites close reminded of how both Odysseus and Polites complained about how unfair it was that he was taller than them. In return he teased them about being shorter. He knows they are not short he is simply really tall but that didn't stop him.

"No matter what happens and where we go, we will always have each other!"

The memory of the day they all swore to always be there for each other only serves to make him feel heavier with grief. Maybe he should let himself join them it wouldn't be hard to let the enemy kill him and then they could joke around again, together.

He is reminded of the chaotic fighting surrounding him once again when someone blocks a strike aimed at him and he can't help the small part of him that's disappointed as he looks up to see Elpenor. Elpenor who looks devasted as he looks towards Polites. Elpenor who saw Polites as a father figure.

"Eurylochus please don't give up, everyone needs you!"

That's right, he is the only one left, as second in command he has to take the lead and keep everyone safe. He has to think of men that are left which means he can't let himself join Polites and Odysseus yet. He pieces himself back together as best he can be and takes a deep breath before gently letting go of Polites and stands up sword in hand.

"Okay.. let's get this over with."

He spends the rest of the battle fighting not only enemy soldiers but the grief and rage trying to drown him. He will not let himself give in and get himself killed. The enemy finally retreats and Eurylochus is finally able to go back to Polites.

He carefully picks him up making sure to close Polites eyes and starts heading back to camp as small cracks start appearing in his defenses letting in a trickle of self hate. He ignores everyone heading straight towards Odysseus tent and lays Polites down beside him.

His breath hitches as a wave of emotion hits him seeing both of his childhood friends laying there next to each other. He pushes through instead grabbing a bowl of water and a washcloth. Gently he removes their helmets and armor before washing away all the blood and grime from battle.

Being clean leaves them looking at peace and he can almost pretend they are just sleeping but the blood stained clothes remind him of the reality. They are dead and nothing will bring them back.

It's too much and finally his defenses crumble and a tidal wave of grief, self hate, and worst of all anger. Anger towards Polites and Odysseus for dying and leaving him behind. He collapses on his knees and chokes on sobs.

They left him alone and no matter how much he hates himself for it, he can't help but blame them especially Polites. At the same time he blames himself for failing to keep them safe. He should have reacted faster to stop the attack on Odysseus. He should have never left his sword at his tent making him waste precious time retrieving it, time that could have been used saving Polites.

It takes hours for him to calm down enough to think beyond his devastation. He looks at Polites before he unties Polites headband leaving the curls to fall over his face with nothing holding them back. The headband is tied around the hilt of his sword, a reminder to never let go of his sword again until the war is over and he gets the others home.

He then unpins the golden owl brooch he always wore, one of his most treasures objects because he got it as a way to be closer with Athena, and clips it to his chiton. A new more dangerous anger wells up, anger towards Athena. He knows it's dangerous and will keep those feelings locked up tight but shouldn't Athena have kept her warrior safe? Why did she let him die like that?

Eurylochus washes his face hoping to get rid of majority of the evidence from crying and takes a deep breath before heading out. He swears to himself to get the others home if it's the last thing he does. It's the least he can do after failing both of his brothers. Everybody notices the red headband on his sword fluttering in the wind and the owl brooch that stay with him the entire way home.

[ohtobeleah]

Was It Over? // Jake Seresin

-> Chapter Ten: [The Potato Head Society & The Other Guy, Jarred?]

Summary: Jake helps you shave your head in hopes of keeping your power and control. Facing your own mortality makes you question your faith in a higher authority and Jensen and Jake met for the first, and what you hope, will be the last time.

Warnings: Sick!reader. Breast cancer diagnosis. Jake Seresin x F!reader. Angst, hospital & medical inaccuracies. SLOW BURN ROMANCE/ Inaccurate medical information. Relationship turmoil. Mentions of religion

Word Count: 4.2K

Author Note: It's no secret I've been having a little bit of a rough go on this hell-site as of late. But I'm still here, working on this series. Seeing your weblogs, comments and concepts truly mean the world to me. so please, don't be hesitant to share.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

“My only real advice for this kind of thing is this.” Jensen sighed as he stood on the steps of his townhouse with you. Coffee in one hand, end of life brochure in the other. Things had taken a rather drastic turn for him in the last few days. After your birthday, his health started to drastically diminish–so much so that his doctors weren’t too sure how much time there was left to combat the cancerous cells spreading through his body. “Go right through it.” Jensen smiled, never once did you ever see his positivity falter. “Like right through it, feel it all, be in it, don't avoid it because the moment you start avoiding it is when it's truly won.” 

Little Sammy held your hand as you stood next to Jensen–he was too young to understand that the man talking to you was dying, hell, you weren't even sure if you understood the significance of the pamphlet Jensen had picked up after your first CCA meeting. He’d told you it was for a friend, little did you know that friend was standing right in front of you. 

The Cancer Counseling Association held biweekly meetings at the hospital. You hadn’t planned on attending when your oncologist, Doctor Morrison, had first mentioned it. But when Jensen said he’d been going almost religiously for three years? You thought, what's the harm? 

The harm was it was depressing as fuck. 

“You go completely in the tough times, feel everything and get out the other end of it all.” You’d asked Jensen something along the lines of how he’d managed to keep fighting all this time and still be so positive about life and all its underwhelming rewards. He was for the most part, a happy guy despite it all. But even the strongest of soldiers have an achilles heel. 

Jensens just so happened to be the fact you were forbidden fruit, he wasn't about to tread on another man's toes. Especially when he was tiptoeing towards the sweet release of death's gentle hands. None of that stopped his heart from racing whenever you smiled though. 

“Many of these things you don't have a choice in.” Jensen continued as his eyes lingered down to little two year old Sammy who stood holding your hand in his. If anything you needed the encouragement to fight this battle for your children. “You know, fuck, whats that expression?” Jensen mulled it over as you chuckled, still standing on the path right outside his street facing townhouse. “Uhh–oh yeah! It's not how well you walked through the fire, but how you walked through it regardless.” 

“I think I'm just barely crawling through the flames right now–” You answered honestly. There wasn't a nice way to say he’d looked better than he did right now, with sunken eyes and skin that looked as if all the life had been drained from his soul. 

So you never mentioned it. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~**

“So—“ The library wasn’t Jake Seresins favourite place to go, but there was someone who made the isles of hard covered literature easier to understand that always seemed to draw him in. Like a moth to a flame. “Did you have a good Christmas?” The silence that followed as you stared across the desk where you were processing returned textbooks had Jake's heart racing, he couldn’t read you and that fact made him all the more nervous. “Or not? If you’re Jewish maybe? Don’t celebrate Christmas that’s cool too I just thought—“ You had to giggle at the college football star standing across from the reception desk with his elbows leaning on the ledge. Your smile was pure happiness, it wasn’t hard to make Jake's heart melt inside his chest—a chest he once thought was hollow. 

“I had a wonderful Christmas, I went home to visit my mum, she always says that if the Christians can steal Christmas from the pagans then us non-religious folk can celebrate too.” You shrugged your shoulders politely as you kept checking off the returned textbooks from students who’d taken them home over the summer. 

“What do you mean when you say the Christians stole Christmas?” Jake Seresin grew up in an incredibly conservative, extremely religious household that attended church every Sunday rain hail or shine. Jake swore his mother nearly spontaneously combusted when he had to stay in hospital overnight after having his appendix removed. It was a Saturday afternoon when they’d presented to the emergency room—poor old Janeen nearly dropped dead at the mere thought of her ten year old missing church the next morning. 

“Lord have mercy upon us, for we have sinned.” Jake could still remember his mother crying vividly when he woke after surgery. Even at ten he knew his mother was somewhat of an overly sensitive soul. 

“Well technically, in order to convert the Germanic pagans who, like, celebrated the winter solstice and stuff—the Christians were like, fuck it, let’s just say that Jesus was born on this day and you can hang tinsel and stuff.” Again, you shrugged your shoulders like it was common knowledge, but as Jake stared down at you with confusion swirling in his emerald eyes, you thought for a split second that maybe this was actually news to the college athlete who’d been following you around for the better half of nine months. Respectfully. 

“You can’t just change someone’s birthday like that? Can you?” Jake, in all his years of attending Sunday services, Sunday Schools, being forced to read the bible and knowing far too much about parting seas and burning bushes, he’d never once been told that Christmas was just a day. 

“It’s kinda like how King James was rewriting the bible on one side of the castle and had witches trying to turn his pee into gold on the other.” Jake was speechless as you looked up at him from your chair, your eyes seemingly swirling with knowledge beyond your years. It made sense that you worked in the library on campus. 

“How the hell do you know all this?” Jake asked through a sheepish smile he couldn’t hide, your intelligence intimated him in the best of ways. You made him want to do better, be better, strive for more in life. It wasn’t that Jake wasn’t smart, he was. But next to you? It was an unparalleled excellence. 

“I uh—I tend to read a lot.” Jake caught the way you faded into yourself, never one to want to outshine others. “Just get lost in here sometimes, books are sometimes easier to understand than people.” Jake could sympathise with that sentiment, he knew what it was like to feel like everyone was watching, judging a book by its cover so to speak. Everyone knew him as the meathead footballer who’s weekends were spent racking up the body count. 

But with you? Jake just felt like Jake. Because that’s who he was to you. Simply and forever Jake. 

“Do you like, not believe in God or something Miss Y/l/n?” Jake asked cautiously. He didn’t want to offend you or come across as rude or anything—he was simply asking a question he thought he may need to know if he was ever going to introduce you to his mother. 

“I find it hard to believe in a world full of stories about Gods and Goddesses from a plethora of different perspectives that there can only be one, if one exists they all have to right? Harmoniously and complacent with the way the universe has fallen to shit without their divine intervention.” Jake had to take a moment to take what you had just said in. He was almost rendered speechless, but not quite. Not Jake Seresin. 

“Damn Honeybee, you’re fucking fearless aren’t you?“ Jake couldn’t help but to smirk as he tried to keep his voice down. “You’re just raw doggin’ life with no religious affiliations.” It was then your turn to laugh. 

“Guess I am. What about you? Do you believe in a God? An all mighty man, or woman, that sits in the clouds and judges your every action?” You asked with a teasing smirk as Jake bit his bottom lip, mulling over your question: 

Did he believe in God? 

“My mother would probably prefer if I said yes, but, the more I look at life without the rose coloured glasses I tend to think perhaps the big guy in the sky is all just some story.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~**

“Did you know hair holds memories.” The sound of buzzing clippers echoed off the walls of the bathroom as you sat before the mirror. Jake stood behind you with those big emerald eyes you loved so dearly, looking at you with a sympathetic look of understanding and support. “In some cultures people don't even cut their hair because it would upset the gods.” Jake could see the tears in your eyes as you looked at him through the mirror, understandably rambling to somewhat buy yourself some more time. “Medusa's hair was alive, there's certain styles linked to different cultures and full hair cutting ceremonies in–” If Jake didn't interrupt now you would have gone on forever. You had a habit of information dropping in situations where nervousness got the better of you. Not that Jake ever minded, he just knew if he didn't get ahead of it, you wouldn't stop. That would ultimately lead to you sitting in silence when the information swirling around inside her head had all been said. Panic would begin to rise inside your chest, the air would soon get thin, the room would suddenly get a little hotter and before you could even realise you'd be in the midst of a full blown panic attack. 

The last time Jake witnessed such a thing was when Sam had colic. 

“Honey–” Jake cooed as he turned off the clippers he held in his hand, only to place them down on the countertop to rest his hands on your shoulders. “Noone is forcing you to do this, if you don’t wanna cut your hair we don't have to.” 

“No–” You sighed. “No, I want to do this, it's just a lot.” You tried to explain. “It's probably one of the only things I still have control over.” Jake understood, it would be hard not to. After all, he wasn't heartless. If he could Jake would have taken this all away, he would have given anything, including his own life to take your pain away. “I just hope I don't have a weird shaped head.” 

“I'm sure you have a really nice scalp dear.” Jake chuckled as he massaged your shoulder tenderly. “And look, if you want my professional opinion, I think you’ll make an awesome live action Mrs. Potato Head.” 

“Jacob!” You tried to hide your smile as you felt your cheek heating with a hume so pure it made your heart skip a beat. “You’re cruel!” 

“But I made you laugh.” Jake countered through a shit eating grin, that signature Seresin smile you loved so much. The very one all three of your children had inherited from their father. “That's all that matters, now–let me work my magic alright, I've got you.” 

“You’re probably a worse hairdresser than you were a husband–” It was a low ball, but Jake took it like a champ as he reached out for the clippers. The buzzing was almost immediate as he used the pad of his thumbs to complete the electrical circuit. With the tool now in full gear, Jake chuckled as he looked at you with fake shock and horror casted across his face. 

“Oh now who's being cruel huh?” Jake watched as your eyes followed his hand that held the clippers. “Technically we’re still married Honey, you still have my last name.” He mumbled under his breath but still loud enough for you to hear, seemingly trying to keep your attention on what he was saying rather than the clippers approaching your head. 

But–you moved:

“Should we cut my hair with scissors first?” 

“Y/n–” Jake sighed as he once again turned off the clippers and placed them back down on the side of the sink. 

“No no no I'm not trying to stall, I just don't want you to accidentally scalp me when my hair gets caught up in the shaver.” Jake saw your point, for the hair you did have left it was pretty thick and full of life still. He held the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes and let out a sigh. Not in frustration towards you, but in defiance of his new quest. 

“I'll go ask the nurses station for some scissors.” 

“Thankyou–” Was all you managed to say back before Jake stepped out of the bathroom attached to your hospital room. The Christmas lights still flickered in the dimly lit room, seemingly consuming the entire room in bright blues, greens, reds and yellows. Even in sickness you couldn't help but to lean into the christmas cheers. 

It hit Jake in that moment as he rounded out of your hospital room that he should get you something small to open when you wake up from surgery. The hospital has a gift shop right? Perhaps some flowers and a small gift you could keep with you during chemo. Maybe a book or a– *Thud* 

Caught up in his own train of thought as he made his way to the nurses station, Jake ran straight into someone coming out of the elevator. There were two very distinct things Jake noticed as he came back into the reality around him. Those distinct things being that the man he’d run into was carrying not only flowers, but a small gift. Huh, uncanny. 

“Sorry man, my bad.” The man apologised almost immediately after the mild impact. 

“No worries, I wasn't watching where I was going, my bad, really.” Jake responded with a polite smile his mother taught him about, the kind of smile you give to a stranger after mild inconveniences. “Jake–” Jake reached out to shake the guy's hand, in retrospect he should have kept walking. Jake really should have just let the interaction fizzle out, but he couldn't. He was too polite for his own good when it came to small interactions. 

The most paranoid fantasy Jake could think of would never have prepared him for the name that the man spoke next as he took Jake's hand in his. 

“Jensen–” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~**

“Okay, I'm ready.” Neither Jake nor Jensen knew if you had mentioned either one in conversation, so, respectfully, both men chose to play the fool. Neither one really wanted to ask. Neither Jake nor Jensen wanted to be the one to open that can of worms. 

When Jake returned with the borrowed scissors in his grasp–he acted as if he hadn’t just met the man he assumed was the very Jensen in your contacts. 

“Last chance Honeybee–” Jake cooed as he leaned in to kiss your cheek. “Are you positive?” He asked with a smile so pure it made your heart skip a beat. “I’m all in with you, just say the word and we do whatever you wanna do.” 

There was a momentary pause in the conversation. Jake's questions lingered in the air around you, it was hard not to get caught in the moment, get lost in the emerald eyes looking at you through the mirror. Jake stared you down as you shifted in your chair to look at him. He saw no hesitation in your eyes as Jake followed your gaze, searching for any sign or signal that could indicate that the next few moments were about to be a mistake. 

“Honey—“ Jake tried to heed the warning lights flashing before his very eyes as you closed the gap between the two of you. Jake stood leaning over your right shoulder, looking longingly at your lips. “Don’t do anything stupid now.” 

“Loving you is stupidity—“ Was all you said before you let your lips softly connect with your husband’s. Jake kissed you back with enough love in his heart to knock the wind right out of your lungs. The fleeting moment was broken, however, when Jake pulled away. The idea of another man kissing you on his mind, what was this guy's deal? Jackson? Jason? 

“Come on Mrs Potato Head, hand me those scissors—“ Jake chuckled, hiding his own insecurities about the man he’d unintentionally met in the hall. You took a second to keep up, but as you licked your lips to savour the taste of Jake's signature vanilla chapstick, you nodded and handed him the scissors. 

“I’m ready.” You sighed, once again looking back at your own reflection. “Let’s get this over with.” Change is an inevitable part of life, but that fact didn't make the current circumstances any easy to process. “Do you think that there's gonna be a place for me despite my inability to believe in a higher being?” Jake understood what you were saying, but he didn't have the answers. “I'm starting to wonder more about if there could ever be a life after death.” 

Clumps of hair in small sections fell to the tiled floor around you as Jake worked his hands through your hair. Cutting strands from your head like the local mower man cut grass. It felt like such a mundane task to complete, like this was an everyday run of the mill, average experience. But for you? This was a hard and confronting pill to have to swallow. 

“I’ve spent my whole life not believing in religion, so who am I supposed to pray to to keep me alive Jake?” Jake saw the tears in your eyes as he cut your hair with caution and steady hands, he heard the small but audible sobs that escaped your lips as he switched from the scissors to the clippers. The buzzing all but silenced your cries but Jake knew this was hard on you. The tears that stained your cheeks clearly reflected your sadness, anger and the inner turmoil that had been engulfing your entire existence since your diagnosis.

“You don’t pray to anyone Honey, you’re stronger than this cancer could ever be.” Again, no one ever sits you down and prepares you for this. No one gives you the heads up about the possibility of one day having to shave your wife's hair off in the name of dignity and control. But as Jake ran the shavers across your scalp, leaving nothing but a small layer of fuzz in their wake, he saw just how much sorrow and pain was swirling in your eyes. 

Jake thought to himself in that very moment: ‘I've been needing a haircut for a while now anyway.’ 

With one quick motion and in the blink of an eye, Jake was running the shavers right down the middle of his head. You really had to take a second to process what he’d just done, what your husband had just done right behind you. 

“Jake!” The shrill that escaped your mouth was something unmatched to any emotion you had ever expressed before. “What are you doing?” The image of Jake shaving his head in solidarity would forever be burnt into your mind. 

“You said it yourself–hair holds memories and we can make new ones together.” Jake cooed as he shaved off those golden boy locks you loved to run your fingers through. He suited the buzz cut a little more than you did if you were being perfectly honest. 

With teary eyes and puffy cheeks you stood on weak legs. The simple gesture of a haircut meant the world to you, Jake knew that. He didn't want you going through this alone. If shaving his head with you brought you a sense of solace? He was more than happy to. 

“Looks good–” You smiled as tears ran down your cheeks. Jake reached out to cup your face in his hands, wiping away your tears with the pads on his thumbs. “Mr. Potato head.”

“Consider us the founders of the Potato Head Society.” Jake chuckled as he leaned in to kiss your forehead. In order to cherish you the way you deserved, Jake had to be the bigger man here. He knew that a cloud of uncertainty loomed in the halls, one by the name of Jackson or fucking Jeremy for all Jake cared. But as he stood in the bathroom with you, surrounded in the locks of hair that had once been on your head, he knew damn well at the end of the day it was still his last name you chose to take. “Good thing you don't have an odd shaped head after all, it kinda suits you.” 

“Would you still love me if I did?” You asked quietly, giving Jake an excuse to confess his love. Jake's lips were soon pressed softly and ever so tenderly against your once again in the blink of an eye as gentle hands still worked to soothe your stained cheeks. 

It wasn’t a hard question to answer, nor an easy question to ask—but as Jake pulled away to rest his forehead on yours as he ran the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip, you knew it was an easy concept to understand: 

“I’ve never, and I will never, stop loving you Honey.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~**

For as much as Jensen hated all things hospital related, over his past few years of treatment, he’d come to know these halls better than he knew the back of his own hand. 

From countless radiation treatments, to endless chemotherapy sessions. Hours upon hours of remedial therapies and acupuncture sessions to stimulate nerve endings, Jensen was a man who was just about ready to pull the plug and live out the remaining few months he had, or less, from the comfort of his back deck. 

He’d been poked and prodded, sliced and diced, far too many times to count on both his hands and for what? A few extra months tacked on top of a few years spent battling pancreatic cancer. No thankyou. Jensen had always had an optimistic outlook on life, until his life started to become the same bland halls and the same bland rooms, with the same bland doctors and nurses who all shared the same look of medical sympathy. 

Jesen, for all intents and purposes, was ready to give up his signature status of being the resistant ‘pin cushion’. The student nurses could learn how to change cannula sights on the lady, Paola, who sat in the same chair for every chemotherapy session. 

The last few days hadnt been too hot for the six foot one, brown eyed, brown haired (allegedly) man. His prognosis had been diminishing ever since he got the news his treatment was no longer as effective as it once had been. 

The day Jensen was told he only had a few short months to live before his organs would begin to fail, even with treatment, was the same day he saw you crying outside the local doctors office. The Hermitage centre as they called it. 

The last thing Jensen ever wanted was for his life to be meaningless, before he knew what he was doing? His feet were padding against the concrete as the psalm of his hands began to sweat inside his jean pockets. 

“You look like you’ve just been told you’re dying?”  As the elevator counted up the floors of which Jensen had to take from the ground floor of the Rhode Island Hospital to the oncology unit, he could vividly remember asking you that question. He recognised the look on your face because not ten minutes prior he;d been told the very same thing. 

“I'd start to get your affairs in order, Mr. Hughs “ It hadn't been just a regular check up with his local general practitioner. But it had been the almost final nail in a long awaited coffin. 

As the elevator dinged, Jensen took a few steps out into the bustling hallways of the oncology ward. Within seconds, he was met with a force so muscular it damn near knocked him back a few paces. But the cancer ridden ex fireman squared his shoulders and kept easy on his feet. 

“Sorry man, my bad.” Jensen almost immediately apologies after the mild impact. He assumed that it was him that had caused the slight collision. His special awareness was pretty shot these days. The flowers he carried were almost crushed on impact, however he managed to save the bouquet of sweet peas, peonies and pansies. 

“No worries, I wasn't watching where I was going, my bad, really.” The man responded with a polite smile Jensen could only assume his mother taught him about, the kind of smile you give to a stranger after mild inconveniences. “Jake–” like a slow motion car wreck, Jake reached out to shake Jensens hand. In retrospect he should have kept walking. Jensen really should have just let the interaction fizzle out, but he couldn't. He was too polite for his own good when it came to small interactions. 

The most paranoid fantasy Jensen could think of would never have prepared him for the look of utter betrayal that smeared itself across the blonde headed aviators face as Jensen shook your husbands hand: 

“Jensen–”

***~***~***~***~***~***~

Tags: @blindedbythelightt @starset21 @tayl0rhuynh @mamachasesmayhem @marvelogic @itsmytimetoodream @maverick-wingman @kodzukenmaaa @eternalsams @seitmai @nota-professional @jessicab1991 @hardballoonlove @senawashere @lafrone @fanficfandomlove @withahappyrefrain @dizzybee03 @maisie-rebloging-blog

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[themythecho]

PJO characters as stuff me & my friends have said

Piper: "I'd marry canes if they were a person"

Leo: "Dang it! I was crossing my d-"

Percy: "For the longest time I thought British people were a ploy to get us to be grateful for our seasoned food"

Jason: "Leo, we're not that stupid" Leo: "Well I am! I am stupidity!"

Reyna: "I am going to commit an Achilles." Nico: "Date Patroclus?" Reyna: "I was more thinking killing ten thousand Greeks, but that works too"

Leo: "Jason is alpha"

Piper: "LEO SUPPORTING WOMEN IS NOT OKAY"

Will: "Mr bean is a slay queen"

Piper: "Don't worry, Jason, I accept you and how gay you are for literally everyone in the MCU" [OG quote was about me w/ PJO…]

Annabeth: "Well in that case I love being manipulative?"

Hazel: "Henry Cavil is like 45 but I'd get on my knees"

Will: "Every fine guy is old"

Octavian: "How tf are you bi and aroace??" Leo: "With gods, everything is possible"

Piper: "Now I'm a homewrecker slut"

[gay-dorito-dust]

I fee like Jason would gently but firmly break off his relationship with his s/o because he'd want to try to distance you from his vigilante life, he'd obviously never tell you about his other life. he'd try to convince you to move out of Gotham, maybe after dumping you he'd convince one of your friends to contact a relative of yours who lives far outside Gotham to try to entice you out of the city because he can't fully concentrate knowing Gotham could get you at any moment.

If you don't leave you'd find that you escape a lot of situations you shouldn't and that known bad guys even pretty big criminals tend to just leave you alone and pretend you don't exist even if you happen to find yourself in the wrong place at the wrong time, a random goon will just escort you out or a mugger would realise his mistake and beg forgiveness and leave all your belongings safely beside you. Redhood follows you a lot not that you know, he wouldn't want to frighten you, on some nights he'll sleep on your balcony or your fire escape just to be near you.

I’m basically reiterating what you’ve already said because it’s so fucking good anon. You took my singular braincell. How dare. 🦦

.Jason cannot focus on both keeping you safe and on clearing Gotham. It’s just not realistic. So if one thing had to give then Jason would selflessly chose to save you from a life of constantly look in over your shoulder. You deserve a better life and unfortunately Jason knows that you’ll never get that dream life staying in Gotham.

.Redhood had a plethora of enemies and Jason didn’t want you to become a victim of his acts of vigilantism. It wasn’t fair on you but Gotham never was or is a fair city for anyone involved. You could be alive and content one moment but dead in a dingy alleyway with corrupt people trying to gloss over your murder the next.

.So like you said anon. He goes to every contact he had that could help him in getting you moved out of Gotham, whether that be friends, family, whoever could aid Jason speed up the process in getting you settled in elsewhere was more then welcomed by him.

.Breaking up with you would be the worst thing Jason ever had to do, which is saying something, but again as much as Jason wanted to be a selfish man, he couldn’t bring himself to keep you in a city that will ultimately be the death of you both in a literal and metaphorical sense. He thought he had finally got the chance to be happy and get to live out his life with you, but when the villain of the week vaguely mentioned you in some capacity, Jason’s blood ran cold as everything in his body went mental; screaming at him to end this fucker right here and now for daring to mention you and demand how they knew.

.However he knew that’s what they wanted confirmation but still a part of his brain made him believe that they already knew of your relationship with redhood and that scared Jason unlike anything else. You were his Achilles heel and he hadn’t even realised that until the moment you were being threatened. And at that point Jason was at a loss of what to do to prioritise your safety because he would do absolutely anything to protect you and keep you safe but sometimes the best thing for him to do was to let you go and hope that you live a better life elsewhere. Far, far, far away from Gotham.

. Maybe sometime in the future when things have calmed down, he’ll visit but that’s never a guarantee. He thinks himself a death omen and he’d rather you live in safety and security. So he stays in Gotham as though he was chained to the damned city. Forbidden from ever leaving. Yet he’ll never forget you and everything you’ve done for him, I’d like to think he’d keep one thing that reminds him of you as a reminder of all the good times you’ve shared. Jason knew his heart would always belong to you and the item he kept was only a reminder of that.

.If you don’t move out of Gotham however, you start to realise that you are the most Luckiest/safest person if there ever was one. Goons, villains, thugs, all of them avoid you as though you were the plague, like you possessed something so potent that had them retreating back into the shadows, hissing as though you’ve burned them without touching them.

Which you did and he happened to be the infamous Redhood. Nobody fucks with you when Redhood is your silent but slightly terrifying guardian looming over you from the rooftops, daring anyone to try anything within his presence and to see where it gets them.

. A thug could’ve been gunning to steal your bag after managing to corner you in some dingy alleyway, holding you a knifepoint, and all of a sudden all the colour in their face vanish as their eyes flickered upwards and boom. Redhood. The thug is shitting it, their eyes are bulging out of their head as they throw the bag back at your feet and mutter ‘I ain’t planning on dying over some stupid bag, fuck that.’ Before running away with their tail between their legs like a little bitch.

. You, confused, would look up in the same place that the thug did. Only to find absolutely nothing before shrugging your shoulders. ‘Must be the drugs he was taking.’ You’d conclude before continuing on your way home to your beautiful boy, Jason.

. I’d like the idea that you caught Redhood sleeping out on your balcony/fire escape one night and now not only are you taking care of your beloved boyfriend but also a 6’2 vigilante who’s built like a brick house with guns strapped to any part of him that you could see. It’s cute and adorable because you’d probably also come to the conclusion that he was the reason why you were being left alone, and to show your gratitude to him you start leaving food, drink and something comfortable to sleep in out for him whenever you could alongside a note that said; ‘thank you for looking out for me but please for the love of god take care of yourself.’

. Jason loves it and finds it’s unbearably cute as he perched himself on your balcony/fire escape, eating your food and making himself comfortable for the night while you slept. He wished he could at least kiss your forehead and wish you a goodnight sleep but he knew he couldn’t and he hated it but as long as you were safe, that’s all Jason could ever ask for. He’ll shower you in affection soon but tonight he was on watch duty.

[zg0nuwa]

colors ; lin kuei trio

you guys are not going to like me after this one

cw ; angst, hurt&no comfort, character death, unrequited love, this is a song fic (personally i’m not the biggest fan but damn does this work so well with these three), might be a little ooc, i would like to sincerely apologize to tomas enjoyers, NOT PROOFREAD!!!

bi han

“ You're ripped at every edge but you're a masterpiece ”

you knew him from the start, you were there when his father presented him the title of the future grandmaster as he was the firstborn of the family, you were there when he screamed and yelled how it’s not fair that his brothers don’t have to endure the same training as him.

you were there when his mother, the only figure in his life he could consider a parental one, died and you were there when he finally got granted the title of the grandmaster of lin kuei.

you were always there, no matter his failures, small mistakes and fits of rage as something didn’t go the way he wanted. no matter how ragged he seemed to be you saw the same little boy that strived to make everyone proud, strived for perfection.

“ And now you're tearing through the pages and the ink ”

who would’ve thought that the same boy you so admired for his commitment, for his determination would be the cause of your downfall. of course you loved him, how could you not? he tore through your thoughts like spilled ink through paper.

day and night, dawn and noon, sunrise and sunset it was about showing your worth to him. and of course it didn’t matter. he was so oblivious, so engrossed in his goals and ideas that he didn’t even consider spending his time on foolish matters like love.

he believed a person in love is a fool, an idiot, a naive moron that believed anything the loved one said. and he was right.

“ Everything is blue; his pills, his hands, his jeans ”

after the betrayal you tried so hard to rid yourself of the color of his vest. the blueness spilling everywhere from your walls, your clothes, the sky outside your window during exhausting days and sleepless nights. it was like a ghost was following you, eyes playing tricks and your brain showing the so dreaded color in the corner of your eye.

so when he actually arrived at the doors of shirai ryu you didn’t believe it. it was like a fever dream, they way his eyes gazed at you with pure hatred and resentment. you stared hoping to see something deep in there, like a confession, that he wished he didn’t have to do it, that he did it because he cared about you, that he loved you.

but there was nothing there, just the endless pit of rage.

“ And now I'm covered in the colors, pulled apart at the seams ”

you knew you wouldn’t stand a chance, not because you were not a warrior, you were, a great one even but even Achilles had a weak spot right? the only difference was that while Achilles had his heel you were standing face to face with your weakness. and he knew how to use this advantage.

“ you were supposed to be on my side. what a disappointment you are. ”

the hunting blue about to drown you, his clothes, the dark sky, the ice forming around his forearms, the color that now represents the clan which brought so much destruction to your home, the same color you once could even said you loved to death, just because it belonged to him.

“ And it's blue… ”

he stood above you with the bloody ice spear in his hands, directed perfectly at your beating heart. the heart that beat of him, at the pace he played. and of course he struck right where he wanted. he just couldn’t be more perfect, right?

tomas

he thought he lost everything he could, two families torn apart and he couldn’t comprehend what sins he must’ve committed to deserve such thing. but even with that he never lost hope, he didn’t care how childish it sounded. he still had kuai liang, he still had you.

“ Everything is grey “

you know what they say right? how everything has its end? good or bad, things will always end one way or another. and tomas knew, but oh how he wished things never ended. not now that you finally setteled in together at the shirai ryu he thought things will finally go the right way for him.

not everything was picture perfect, he still felt the immense guilt for “separating” the brothers and dragging you just by affiliation into this mess. sleepless nights spent with silent tears while you slept peacefully. harsh trainings and to top it off clumsiness from lack of sleep.

bruises and cuts becoming a normalcy for him. and so did become this far away, clouded look on his face.

“ His hair, his smoke, his dreams ”

you tried everything to get him out of that state, but if there’s one thing he shares with both bi han and kuai liang it’s the god damn stubbornness. you loved each other dearly, theres no denying that but the wall he created between you was becoming too much. for both sides.

the last time you confronted him about all the nights you spent alone or the times he ignored you during the day it ended in a screaming match. even if for him it was like a nightmare come true he couldn’t help but think he deserved you walking out on him with a loud and heart-wrenching scream.

“ i’m tired tomas, i cannot take this anymore! ”

oh how he wished it had never come to this.

“ And now he's so devoid of color ”

and now as he holds your body close to his chest, both your faces covered in blood, he understood that if there was someone to be deserving or undeserving of something, it’s you. you deserved better than him, better than what he had put you through, and you certainly didn’t deserve for your life to end this way.

“ i’m sorry, i’m so so sorry, it wasn’t supposed to be like this. ”

he didn’t know what hurt more. the sight of your face slowly losing color, eyes slowly losing life, and the hold on his cheek becoming less and less firm or the fact that after all this, you still forgave him. it felt like someone had just shot him in the face, right between his eyes…

…and the scar stayed, for a long time. just like the shades of gray in his eyes and heart after losing the only source of color in his life.

“ He don't know what it means ”

the hope was all lost now.

kuai liang

“ You were red and you liked me 'cause I was blue ”

‘childhood sweethearts’ was what a lot of people described you two as. friends from day one, that’s what comes with being a child of the grandmasters closest friend. you did everything together, all of your firsts were with the other one present.

“ But you touched me and suddenly I was a lilac sky ”

a sweet reality, truly. your best friend being your actually first ever friend, being your first handhold, your first kiss, even your first time. but isn’t it somewhat normal? teenagers exploring their possibilities, their sexuality, their bodies. it all seems harmless until feelings come in the way. they started after the kiss and only got worse.

it would be normal to consider that he liked you too, right? so when he asked you to meet up in your secret spot because he had something important to tell you? oh boy you were losing your absolute mind.

choosing your best clothes, doing your hair, you obviously wanted to be your best in that moment. waiting in the spot was becoming an agonizing activity, you came over half an hour earlier then you were supposed to because of excitement.

“ And you decided purple just wasn't for you ”

it was supposed to be the best day ever for you until you saw him leading a girl you recognized. harumi, of course you knew who she was. you were always jealous of her, her stupid perfect face, her stupidly beautiful hair, her stupid smile. and yet here she was, standing in a place you wanted so badly to occupy.

and kuai liang stood proudly in front of you, a smile on his face, his chin held high in pride. he looked happy, maybe even happier then he ever been. happier than he has ever been when with you.

“ i wanted you to be the first one to know, harumi is my girlfriend ”

because best friends since childhood always share their firsts. and it’s so sweet.

feeling a bit silly tbh :3