#maybe frozen peas are involved

[armoricaroyalty]

🍝 & 🖤 for Elise and Emily

🍝 SPAGHETTI — what is/are your oc's favorite food(s)?

Hm..thinking about Elise's backstory -- she was born in 1957. She grew up in public housing in a poor neighborhood in the 1960's, and would would have been a teenager in the early 1970's. Thinking of the cuisine of the era, particularly among the working poor: food tended to be simple, convenient, and bland. Thinking of what I've said about Armorican cuisine in the past, and what I've said to @nexility-sims in recent DM's: some kind of potato-heavy casserole prepared with some kind of canned soup. I'm imagining something like potatoes au gratin, made with a can of soup instead of butter and cream. I'm envisioning canned clams playing a role, as well. As for Emily...egg tarts. I don't know why, but she's giving me egg tart vibes. She must be a dim sum girlie.

🖤 BLACK HEART — has your oc killed or seriously wounded anyone before? have they broken someone's heart and/or broken someone's trust?

Before she joined the royal family, Elise played hockey professionally. Although women's hockey tends to involve less bloodsport than men's hockey, Elise was probably involved in at least one on-ice brawl during the course of her ten-year career. I don't think she's ever seriously physically injured anyone, but she broke a fair few hearts during the same span of time. Emily is a mild, bookish girl, and Freddy is her first-ever boyfriend. She's never been in a physical fight, never crashed a car, never committed drunken manslaughter at a party. And she's certainly never broken anyone's heart...

OC detail questions ->accepting

[cloveroctobers]

MONOPOLY — Armando Aretas [September Prompts] 🩶

A/N: I guess I’m remaining in my Armando writing bag but this was a request from: @dasaniswrlddd & this is mostly a Drabble small work that was also inspired by my boys who’s EP you should check the rest out after reading. It’s only fitting 😉 & you’re welcome!

S/N: the request included Armando dating an older woman, he’s twenty-eight so maybe the reader is thirty-eight? Forty’s? or as old as you are if you’re a older reader lol + mentions of a certain character from the film, “Rebel Ridge,” IYKYK 😉 + a little 🌶️ in there somewhere!

PROMPT IS FROM HERE & I’m using: ¹³⁾ frozen peas pressed against a fresh bruise + ²⁰⁾ rich vanilla perfume.

SYNOPSIS: Armando’s not as good at hiding his feelings for you.

<- read my previous September anthology prompt here.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ ⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ ⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ ⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻

when Armando was informed that you got hurt out in Italy, he made it his mission to get on the next flight. AMMO was working on a case that would require them to fly out there by the end of the week so he just went earlier, despite the knowing look detective Mike sent his way.

He knows his son became fond of you quickly once they worked with your team, although Armando tried to hide it, it became obvious to Mike. Watching Armando analyze every move you made with admiration and how you commanded orders within your own team. When your team got involved that meant it was more than serious and Secada always made your team the last option if AMMO needed back up. Things tended to get reckless in the moment but you always made sure to clean up well.

Over the last few years you haven’t been getting your hands as dirty, something Armando overheard you sharing with Secada and Detective Lowrey, having your team do most of the work while you supervised but that didn’t mean you forgot everything that you’ve learned. Which is why you have a dagger jammed up right against Armando’s throat, bag of frozen peas dropped to both of your feet as you had Armando pressed up against the wall of the villa out in Collesano.

“Armando,” you stated, “did you really think it was the best idea to sneak up on me?”

He lowers his raised hands, “that wasn’t really my intent.”

“Find that hard to believe.”

“…so you don’t trust me now?” He questioned while peering at you underneath his eyelashes and brimmed hat.

“I don’t trust anyone.”

Armando exhales at this. He doesn’t take it personal since it was someone on your team that ended up being a rat in the first place. Setting you up to be killed while also murdering one of your members you were closest to in cold blood and the way the rest of your team was ambushed, was the ultimate betrayal so he understood where this was coming from.

“Then why am I not dead yet?” His low voice inquires.

You smirked as you lowered the dagger, “the night is still young.”

Armando can’t help but to roll his eyes as you step back from him but he can’t help but to reach forward and pinch your chin, turning your face to the side as he viewed the damage done to your face first. He feels his jaw tighten at the long scar that traveled from the bottom of your ear to the curve of your jaw. It was the beginning of the symbol of an Italian gang here, blade pulled just right to begin the markings of an, “X,” in cursive but they didn’t get to finish the job.

Yet this would scar in more ways than one.

“Be a doll and grab those peas for me?” Your attempt to bring Armando’s attention elsewhere was noted as his eyes flicked back to yours for a moment, silently telling you that he wanted details and he was going to get them from your mouth instead of Secada’s and Mike’s.

He lowers himself, eyes locked on yours still as he reaches for the frozen bag, “where?”

You take the peas and place them underneath your shirt, where Armando gets a peek of your ribcage wrapped in a white bandage. He exhaled at that, relieved that you actually went to the hospital to get checked out. He knew how much you dreaded those visits.

You’re leaning against the island for support, as you take most of the pressure from standing upright and shift to your right—where there’s no bruising on that side of your ribs. “So…what brings you to Collesano? Did you finally decide that you needed a change of scenery from Miami and Mexico City?”

Armando gives you a deadpan glance as he fires back, “I never would have pictured Italy as a place to live low for you. Tell me, when did you buy this property?”

You scoff, stiffly shifting to grab that hard liquor that’s waiting in the square glass for you. Throwing it back with clenched eyes you respond, “Maybe I’m borrowing it.”

“From who?” Armando crossed his arms, “Terry?” He almost spits out the man’s name, which makes you quirk up a brow.

You start, “I’m not…doing this with you tonight so if you came here to brood or whatever—I’m not here for it.”

Armando stepped to you then, “I came here to be with you, no bullshit. Got here as fast as I could. Something the other guy isn’t even here doing.”

Sighing you dip your head as Armando has his heated stare locked only on you, “…while I appreciate that…I can take care of myself, thank you. I’m grown.”

“That you are,” Armando unapologetically scans his eyes over your frame before settling comfortably back on your face, “but there’s nothing wrong with letting someone in from time to time.”

“You should take your own advice, Aretas.” You huffed, as you searched his eyes, making him blink his own stare away as he rubbed at his beard in annoyance.

He was aware of what you were getting at. You’ve been around to see his interactions with Detective Mike Lowrey, even worked with him and Marcus previously when you first got your team together. Mike was certainly a ladies man and was damn good at his job…a little sloppy at times but as well as you knew Mike, you genuinely believed if he knew about Armando, he would have made an effort to be there even if it was painfully awkward. That was a conversation that was just as old as Armando’s opinion on “the other guy,” you were legally married to.

That’s right, you were technically spoken for.

To keep it simple it was a MACP thing really and a story for a different time!

“Yeah well clearly the both of us have the patience.” He states, his gaze going back to the scar on your face, “I’ll be back.”

Sarcastically you say, “aw but you just got here!”

Armando snorts as he starts backing away, “don’t worry mami, I’m not goin’ too far but try not to miss me too much.”

He winks.

“Oh, Please.” You scoff, turning to pour yourself another shot.

When Armando returns, it really wasn’t that long as you just managed to sit yourself up at the high chair by the island counter. That was a a job within itself thanks to your bruised ribs and you knew you could have easily picked one of the many couches in this villa, preferably the two seat sofa that’s right by the open window next to the kitchen but of course you liked to be difficult.

The hairs on the back of your neck stand up as you feel Armando’s hands dig into your tense shoulders from behind. He gets a light whiff of your vanilla perfume, it’s usually potent—rich—enough that it lingers in the air whenever you’re near. Right now it’s faint but it still makes him want to trail his nose up the slope of your neck.

“Hey,” he begins, “let’s get you cleaned up.”

Looking over your shoulder, the exhaustion has settled on your face and in that moment it almost shocks Armando that you don’t put up a fight. He holds onto your hand as you take your time getting down from the chair, a firm but gentle hold goes around your waist as he leads the way to the full bath he managed to find on the first level of the home.

The water is steaming and just what you needed. Armando was always onto you and knew the moment he caught sight of you tonight, he no problem providing. You manage to peel your clothes off and Armando’s concern is all over his face once he gets to see the black, blue, and purple bruises with your back turned to him. Those weren’t the only ones on your beautiful body but the ones on your ribs were the most upsetting.

He regains his composure, springing forward to help lower you into the water, head going right back against the pillow along the tub. Your eyes are closed and he almost coached you to sleep, running the pad of his thumb against the apple of your cheek. He was falling deep and he only had himself to blame if you ever broke his heart.

Part of him believes you won’t.

This has been going on long enough for Armando to have faith in whatever this was. Even when he was locked up, your connection never seemed to falter. Call him a fool but Armando was certain he’s never felt this kind of a way about anybody before you.

He’ll cater to you and sure you’ll give him a hard time, initially finding it all fun and dangerous games at first but that all shifted pretty quickly although in Armando’s mind, it felt like forever for you to admit your truth.

That you were feeling him more than you wanted to too. Which is why you allowed him to stay with you, help you bathe and briefly come to terms with what all transpired, even if you tried to block it out.

Even when you laid on top of him afterwards in one of the foreign bedrooms, he didn’t let go of you as you listened to the thud of his heartbeat and he took on the weight of you, all of it because he loved you—even if you didn’t want to hear him say it.

You felt it then and even more now that he came all this way for you.

The both of you wouldn’t be getting any sleep due to past traumas but that was left in the dark of the room. There’s buzzing that fills the heavy silence, you reach out clicking on the phone to silence it before flipping it back over.

“That could be important.” Armando mumbled.

‘Could be your husband,’ He thinks to himself.

You sniff, shifting to rest your chin onto the back of your hand, “Nothing else is important right now.”

“Yeah?” Armando quizzes, tucking his own chin to look at you, heart beating even harder now underneath your hands.

Wincing you lean forward, lips hovering over his, “Yeah.”

That was all the confirmation Armando needed as he moves to cradle your head and quickly places his lips right on yours. There’s a sigh of relief that escaped your lips as you both go into a battle trying to take the lead, which makes you laugh and a usual faint dimple appear on one side of Armando’s cheek. It’s when his tongue touches yours and he gets a nice grip on your ass with both hands that the humor fizzles away.

Armando’s attentive as you slowly take your place on top, hands gripping your hips against the silk night slip that you’re in now. “You sure you should be—

He starts but one move, has his hold digging into your hips, his head thrown back while biting down on his bottom lip. A laugh escapes your lips and Armando has to peek at you while he soaks in the real feel of you, your hair is a curtain around your face shape and the smirk on your face picks at his ego but he can’t complain and say he isn’t fond of this position.

“What was that?” You tease, “Don’t worry about me baby, I got you.”

Armando has to remind himself to breathe and you haven’t moved yet. His suddenly damp hands slip against the material of your nightwear, but he had to watch as he slides it back. That image alone makes a grunt spill from his lips and that’s enough to let you continue but Armando is always ready for your games.

When you separate just enough, he gains leverage himself, angling his own hips upwards while choosing to guide your hips downwards this time, erupting a pretty noise from your mouth. It’s his turn to smirk up at you, when you snap your attention back to his eyes while you fall over. Your elbows are beside his head now since sitting upright wouldn’t work at this time and especially with Armando’s own move he just pulled.

“Hi.” He smiles at you.

You scowl, “pendejo.”

That scowl releases when he places a lingering kiss right above where your new scar is. Gently he flips you both over and gazed at you so lovingly that some might say it was too much to bear.

It’s a pecking fight between your lips while Armando is on his knees but you can fight dirty when you want to and that gets him to move against you. Rocking you into the bed and loving you properly just like you knew he could.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ ⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ ⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ ⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻

Continue with my September anthology prompts here.

[kitashousewife]

your company christmas party is just as boring as you thought it would be. old christmas music, bland food, a very uneventful gift exchange, and now for the worst part.

small talk.

you’ve been staring at the ice left in the bottom of your plastic cup for what feels like an hour, while some of your co-workers drone on about different work related topics. they held the party after work, so you’re still in business casual when really all you want right now is to be in some sweats on the couch.

“man, this party sucks,” kuroo pulls up a folding chair next to you, slapping the brand new desk name tag he got during the gift exchange next to your cup.

“why didn’t you help plan it?” your question comes out more desperate than you had intended, hoping maybe next year he’ll take this on to save everyone from boredom.

“i wasn’t asked,” he takes a sip of watered-down lemonade. “why didn’t you?”

“didn’t have the time,” you sigh. kuroo nods, understanding far too well. the two of you have worked together for a few months now, more recently on a report that was presented earlier today. he’s definitely become your favorite co worker.

for a lot of reasons.

“did you try the cake?” kuroo points to the food table, but you shake your head.

“everything i’ve tasted tonight has been so bad, i’m scared to try anything else.”

kuroo snorts. you give him a smile, and a silence washes over the two of you for a few moments. your co workers conversation at the table has picked up, louder and more involved than before.

“hey,” kuroo whispers, leaning close to your ear. “think we can sneak out of here without getting caught?”

you think for a second. your boss was adamant that everyone stay tonight, and you just know if anyone sees the two of you leave together that people will talk.

“you go first, i’ll meet you outside. just say you’re headed to the bathroom. i’ll grab my things,” you whisper back, and kuroo smiles. he clears his throat, stands up, and heads for the door. you give him a few minutes before making your own exit, only getting stopped once on the way.

“good, i thought you bailed on me,” kuroo smirks from outside the office door, back against the street light. he’s swinging his keys on his finger, clearly excited to leave.

“of course not. just had to wait for my chance to slip out.”

“well, i’m starving. that food was disgusting, and i need a drink. care to join?”

the warmth of your cheeks is a stark contrast to the frozen night air. you’ve spent a lot of time thinking about this moment, wishing it would come.

“yeah, i would. you lead the way,” you smile, but kuroo shakes his head. he slides off his pea coat before handing it to you.

“put this on first,” he grins when you’re finally engulfed in the wool, gesturing his hand down the street.

you feel dizzy, overwhelmed by the scent of his cologne that engulfs you, and the fact that kuroo tetsuro is now grabbing you by the hand to lead you around downtown. once in the restaurant and seated, you finally feel yourself slipping back to reality.

“next year, i’m not going to that shit,” kuroo looks over the menu for a moment before laughing. “do you think they picked the food as a punishment?”

you raise an eyebrow. “the food? what about the music? seriously, what century are we in?”

kuroo smirks. “c’mon, the gift exchange wasn’t bad. what did you get?”

you roll your eyes. “nothing, just something small.”

“tell me!”

you sip your water, shaking your head. “tetsuro, it’s nothing-“

“if it’s nothing, then tell me.” his grin is almost teasing. you sigh, and pull a mug out from your purse, printed with your name.

spelled incorrectly.

“amazing,” he laughs, examining the mug. “what if i told you i got it for you?”

you about spit out your drink. “then next year, i’d watch out. i’ll make sure to get your name.”

he raises an eyebrow. “next year? no, next year you and i are bowing the party and coming straight here,”

your heart skips a beat, but he doesn’t notice.

“sounds like a plan.”

[solarmorrigan]

Dustin barely remembers his dad.

This isn’t his dad’s fault, of course; he’d died when Dustin was pretty young. His mom had been too broken up about it to even think about dating for a long time, and after a while she’d just started telling Dustin that he’s the only man she needs in her life (this declaration is met with either a smile or an eye-roll, depending on the day). And that’s perfectly fine, Dustin isn’t trying to push his mom into anything she doesn’t want, it’s just that it left him without any kind of older male figure in his life for pretty much his entire childhood.

And it’s not like his mom didn’t do a perfectly good job raising and providing for him. He loves her and wouldn’t trade her for anything. It’s not that she isn’t enough – it’s just that there are certain things that dads are better applied to, that’s all.

Things like bullies.

Sure, if Dustin’s mom learned that he was getting bullied, she’d probably march right down to the school and badger the administration until they agreed to “do something about it,” but that would amount to almost nothing, because teachers (and Dustin says this with all the fondness in the world for Mr. Clarke) are kind of useless. Being able to yell something like If you don’t leave me alone, I’ll get my dad to beat you up! would have been way more satisfying.

(Dustin gets that this isn’t a bulletproof plan. Mike had tried this once, hoping to bluff his way through, since his dad is unlikely to do much more than tell him to go ask his mom for a bag of frozen peas if he comes home with bruises, but it had resulted in pretty much the normal amount of being beaten up. Dustin’s not saying it’s effective, just that it would be satisfying.)

But then, the second time the Upside Down rears its faceless-yet-ugly head, Dustin is granted an unexpected boon: Steve Harrington.

The Dustin of the pre-Mindflayer days would be disgusted with himself, but that Dustin can suck it, because present-day Dustin now has a friend who’ll help him hunt monsters, and who has a car, and who gives him tips on how to do his hair and how to pick up girls (and maybe they’re not really useful tips, but it’s still part of what Dustin has always wanted), and who’s pretty cool, actually.

A big brother is almost as good as a dad, right? Big brothers are definitely supposed to fight off bullies for you.

Except, Dustin realizes with disappointment as he thinks back, Steve isn’t exactly a fighter. Like, not a good one. In fact, he’s pretty sure Steve has never actually won a fight in his life.

So, no, he’s probably not Dustin’s best bet for fighting bullies off.

But that’s okay, Dustin likes him anyway (even if this does leave him back at square one). Steve’s good for other things.

Other things that apparently involve rolling up in front of the school with almost unrealistically good timing just as Dustin, Mike, Lucas, and Will are getting out of AV club (Max has refused to join because it’s “too nerdy” for her, which Dustin figures is her loss) and are being followed by a couple of hecklers – Donny and Ken, this time. El might’ve scared off James and Troy, but middle school bullydom is a power vacuum that will always draw some new asshole to the top.

It's nothing they haven’t heard before. Comments about their being nerds and freaks, stuff about Will’s “resurrection,” stuff about Dustin’s condition. Maybe they’re getting a little meaner, because there’s a little more homophobic shit in there than there used to be, a little more racist shit, but it’s not like they’re going to let themselves be rattled by a couple of bullies, not after everything they’ve faced together.

But it is… annoying.

(Fine, it’s hurtful. Words still hurt, apparently, even if you’ve fought literal extradimensional monsters and won, which Dustin feels is a flaw in the design of the human brain.)

Donny and Ken do slow up a little when they spot Steve’s car, but so do Dustin and the rest of the party, because they have no idea what Steve is doing there.

Steve, entirely oblivious to everyone’s confusion, gets out of the car and smiles and waves at them. It’s only because Dustin is watching in bewilderment that he sees the way Steve’s attention flashes just for a second to the boys standing behind them, but he’s not sure if he’s imagining the way his eyes narrow a little, or the way his smile suddenly seems a little sharper.

“Hey, Steve,” Dustin waves back, because this is kinda weird, but it’s not like he’s unhappy to see his friend. “What’re you doing here?”

Steve shrugs. “Wasn’t busy this afternoon, and I remembered you mentioned having your club thing tonight. Thought I’d give you a ride.” He strides forward, holding out his hands. “I’ll put your stuff in the back and we can get going.”

“Is this a kidnapping?” Mike stares at Steve suspiciously, even though Dustin, Lucas, and Will are already shouldering off their bags.

“No, it is not a kidnapping,” Steve snaps. “See if I ever do a favor for your rude ass again, Wheeler. You want a ride, or not?”

Mike sighs and rolls his eyes, but hands his backpack to Steve anyway, and with all four bags in hand, Steve rounds the back of the car and pops the trunk.

“Just gotta make some room,” Steve says, leaning in and pushing some things around. One of those things comes tumbling out of the trunk and hits the pavement with a clatter of wood and metal.

The nail bat.

And despite Steve’s reasonably convincing mutter of “Whoops, that wasn’t supposed to happen,” there’s no way it could have been anything but intentional, because Steve usually keeps the bat safely stowed at the back of the trunk, since he wants to avoid being arrested or otherwise under suspicion for carrying something that is very obviously a weapon.

He pushes their backpacks into the trunk and then picks the bat up, gives it that twirl that Dustin still can’t quite figure out the purpose of (does it actually help, or does it just look cool?) and props it up on his shoulder. When he looks up, he looks past their little group and pretends to spot Donny and Ken for the first time, where they’re still skulking curiously at the edge of the parking lot.

“Oh, hey.” Steve takes a few steps forward, grinning amiably, reaching out with his free hand, as if he’s completely forgotten he’s holding a baseball bat full of nails in his other, and offering it to the two of them to shake. “Sorry, didn’t see you there. I’m Steve. You two friends with my guys?”

(Dustin likes the way Steve says that: my guys. Like he’s adopted the whole lot of them and is going to stand between them and hell, because they’re his – but they’re not just kids, they’re guys; like they’re equals. Dustin likes it a lot.)

Pale and wide-eyed, neither Donny nor Ken manages more than a sort of uhh noise before Lucas pipes up.

“Not exactly.”

It’s then that Steve lets his posture change, shifting from the comfortable and approachable one Dustin’s gotten used to, and into something squared and solid.

“Not exactly, huh?” Steve says, looking between Donny and Ken, his voice gone a little sharper. “You wanna clear that one up for me, boys? I mean, you don’t give my guys here trouble, do you?”

“No!” Donny chokes out. Ken shakes his head quickly.

“No?” Steve asks.

“Nah. No, in fact, we were just heading home,” Donny says. Ken has become a bobblehead.

And then they do just that, practically running home with their tails between their legs.

“Huh,” Steve says, turning back towards the car with a smirk, giving the bat another lazy twirl before stuffing it safely into the back of the trunk. “Wonder what got into them?”

Dustin, Lucas, Will, and even Mike barely stop laughing the whole way home.

[readysteddiewoe]

Part two of Spider-Steve (read part 1 <<here)

Eddie Munson's first Spider-man encounter happens one cold December evening when he steps out the service door at hideout for a smoke. A blur of red and blue falls like a sack of stones, seemingly out of nowhere, into the overflowing dumpster. Eddie lets out a frankly embarrassing shriek at the noise, hackles raised, he approaches the dumpster in barely restrained panic looking for any sign of life. Lo and behold, fucking Spider-man is lying in the trash.

"Shit, dude, you okay?" he asks. The vigilante groans as he sits up in the squelching mess.

"I'm fine, I'm okay," Spider-man waves an arm, sounding breathless and hoarse as he stumbles out of the dumpster, nearly face planting in the process.

Eddie grabs him by his shoulders to steady him, meeting those weirdly expressive eye lenses on his mask. They widen a little and then Spider-Man is scrambling away from him, raising a hand to his head like he’s trying to run his fingers through his hair before realizing he can’t.

“Just— long day, y’know,” Eddie can’t really say he knows what a long day of vigilante-ing would involve but he nods along anyways, a little thrown by the whole interaction. "I'll get out of your hair now," says Spider-man with an awkward two-finger salute and then he starts limping out of the alleyway a hand clutching his side.

Eddie pictures Spider-man limping home, all alone on streets of Queens, it feels kinda pathetic. "Hey man, you sure you don't need any help?" He jogs up beside the masked man. "No offence, but you don't exactly look okay," In fact, he looks sorta beat to shit, Eddie realizes now that they’re standing closer to the street lamps. “I can give you a ride if you want,” Spider-man turns to look at him, his weird eye lenses blink once.

The car ride is awkward as hell. Spider-dude is sitting ramrod straight in the passenger seat, preternaturally still, stinking of garbage. Well, his van was long overdue a deep clean anyways.

He looks ridiculous with his hands folded on his lap and the seat belt over his suit. Metallica plays in the background, volume turned down so low Eddie can only hear it when he stops at a red light.

"So," Eddie starts, "My name is Eddie," he turns to look at Spider-man expectantly.

“Spider-Man,” he says, then chuckles at the face Eddie makes. "It kinda defeats the purpose of a secret identity if I gave you my real name,"

"Can I give you a nickname then?"

"Maybe?” The eye lenses narrow at him.

"Spider-boy? Arachnoid-dude?"

"Aren’t nicknames supposed to be shorter?"

Eddie snaps his fingers "Bug boy!"

"Absolutely not—"

"I got it, I got it," Eddie paused for dramatic effect, "Spidey,"

"I guess I can live with that," Spidey says with a put upon sigh and Eddie grins.

He drops him off near a takeout place, blowing Spidey a dramatic kiss before driving away. “Good night Spidey, get well soon!”

In the rear view mirror, Eddie sees him watching until his van disappears from view.

---

"Guess who I saw today?" Steve later asks Robin, lying on her bed with a bag of frozen peas over his ankle, cramming a spring roll in his mouth.

"Was it Lady Gaga? If it wasn't Lady Gaga then I don't really care," she flops down beside him, queuing up a movie on her laptop.

"Eddie Munson. And he was being nice, Robbie,”

“He’s always nice, I don’t get your point,”

“Not to me, he’s not,” Steve frowns. Robin isn’t the first person to insist how cool of a dude Eddie Munson is. Though Steve only ever sees contradicting evidence; until today that is.

"Hate to break it to you Steve, but I also kind of hated you when I only knew you from your mean girl era in high school," Huh. Touché.

Steve spends most of the movie half distracted and trying to fend off sleep. Robin’s phone pings halfway in and she snatches it up, holding it close to her face and smiling at the text. Which was new. Interesting.

“Who’s that?”

“No one,”

“Fine,” Steve yawns, “Don’t tell me,”

———

Part III

[antlerx-art]

GOOD OMENS 2 EPISODE 1 REACTION - CONTAINS SPOILERS‼️

STARTING IT OMG.

IT’S HIM IT’S LITERALLY HIM I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS???? I MEAN I SUSPECTED IT BUT IN THE FIRST SCENE????

is that the bentley thing he’s using????

ALSO THEY ALREADY KNEW EACH OTHER????? BUT I GUESS ONLY CROWLEY REMEMBERS

“there you go, lovely”😭😭😭

“i’m Aziraphale” / “nice meeting you” AND YOU WON’T TELL US YOUR NAME? MH??

“LOOK AT YOU YOU’RE GORGEOUS.” and aziraphale looking at him oh lord

nah crowley has a point shut up aziraphale

AZIRAPHALE WANTING TO KEEP CROWLEY FROM GETTING INTO TROUBLE AS ALWAYS 😭

THE WING THING NO FUCKING WAY. NO. FUCKING. WAY.

london present day hiiiii HI AZIRAPHALE

noooo WHY IS SHE CRYING

this is so cute i’m going to combust

OHH CROWLEY AND SHAX SCENE i know this by heart

so i guess the something going down in the up is gabriel

“you’ll tell me what i need”???? which is?

frozen peas💀

MAGGIE AND NINAAAAAA (holy shit!)

poor aziraphale NOT THE HUG STOP. WHAT IS THIS. POOR AZIRAPHALE

THE EXTREME SANCTIONS THIS IS CLEVEEEERRR

HERE WE GO another scene i know by heart

“i have no idea what that feels like”sure👍🏻 stay in denial

“I think it’s my brain but i’m not sure” oh i know he’s gonna be the funniest

THE BOX!

“his royal smugness is in trouble that’s so sad” why is this so???? i love crowley

the box is empty well I should’ve expected it

“you’re funny, i love you” okay so gabriel confessed before crowley 😍

“jaaaames long for jim short for gabriel”

aziraphale has A LOT of patience i could never

hi muriel!

TONE OF VOICE? i love them

“BECAUSE THERES A NAKED MAN THERE?”💀

“ANGEL”!!!!!

NOO NINA HAS A PARTNER ☹️

“ASK HIM PROPERLY.” bye i thought it was gonna be some sort of miracle but it’s actually just crowley shouting at jim

WHAT. OHHHH HES MAD HES DEFINITELY MAD

“YOURE ON YOUR OWN WITH THIS ONE”? like crowley is right i also wouldn’t trust him BUT COME ONNNNN

OHH THATS WHEN HE SMOKES AND EXPLODES but the scream is different from the trailer

and nina and maggie are locked in 🫢

FINALLY FOUND OUT HOW MURIEL IS PRONOUNCED

michael acts like my maths teacher

BEELZEBUB HELLOOOOO

THEYRE IN HELL what the. hell?

I KNEW IT i knew they were gonna offer him to become duke of hell

“EXTREME SANCTIONS” again the marketing for this show is great

okay so anyone involved with gabriel’s disappearance will be deleted from existence and crowley is worried about aziraphale

nina and maggie are literally crowley and aziraphale i love them

NO FUCKING WAY THATS GOOD OLD FASHIONED LOVER BOY ITS ACTUALLY IN THE SHOW NOW

so what they’re saying is that *aziraphale* is the one who knew maggie’s great grandmother lol

WAIT all those theories about crowley ringing the bell and then saying “i’m back” being two different scenes because of his position in the room when he was actually just being dramatic and took 20 steps away

A PROPER APOLOGY WITH THE LITTLE DANCE WHAT DO YOU MEAN

apology in 1941? HMM????

WHAT. IS. THIS.

aziraphale and crowley will dance in season two! the actual dance: 🧚🏻‍♂️💃🏻

I want to see every single wrong take of this scene every single blooper

oohhh so that’s why muriel won’t recognize him that’s smart i should’ve considered it

no rapunzel you have to stay here fathers know best ‼️

HEAVEN DEFINITELY DIDN’T NOTICE A THING 👍🏻

I was about to say that even though episodes are shorter than season one you don’t actually notice the difference but maybe I just paused it too many times and it became half an hour longer

tagging @neil-gaiman since he said he was interested in reading live reactions

[nokingsonlyfooles]

WTYP: The Shandor Building, Part 4

[Do you like the colour of the fanfic? This is long and if you expand it you're gonna get the whole thing, because Tumblr hates you. Don't say I didn't warn you!]

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Part 4: Freaky Shit

[Beware of strong language, mention of all kinds of death, gore, and Lovecraftian horror.]

[On the current slide, the Activate Windows logo has changed to read “All Hail Gozer” and remains that way for the rest of the episode.]

R: Might be some firmware… What the hell was that?

A: Oh, that’s just the Tumblr app, it came preinstalled…

L: Cursed phone.

A: Yeah, pretty much…

R: No, out in the hallway. Looked like a dog.

L [charmed again]: Aww. Where?

A: Sorry, hang on, got another “ask”…

R: I’ll be right back.

[scraping sound, footsteps, door opening and closing]

A [amused]: “Choose the form of your destroyer.” Oh, that’s cute. What should I say…?

L: “Death by Chocolate.” No, wait. “Snoopy.”

A [typing]: T-H-A-T… A-S-S… Ohh. [annoyed] Where’s the peach emoji on this thing? These are all symbols from the Lesser Key of Solomon…

L: That one looks kinda like an ass.

A: I think it’s a minor Duke of Hell. Still, you’re not wrong…

[door opening and closing]

R [nonplussed]: It’s, uh, it’s not a dog.

A: What is it?

R: It’s a gargoyle. Or a grotesque. Like the ones on the front of the building. There’s two of ‘em, actually.

L: Do they want tummy rubs, Rocz? If they want tummy rubs, they are dogs. And if you touch their tummy and die, they’re cats. This is science!

R: I have no idea if they want tummy rubs. …I fed one a doughnut.

L: Aww.

A: That can’t be good for it.

R: I dunno. They were in the break room eating the doughnuts, so I assume they eat doughnuts.

L: Rocz, I eat Wawa hoagies, and they are definitely not good for me.

A: A duck will go to town on some bread, but you’re not supposed to feed it to them.

R: He took it right outta my hand and said “Hail Gozer,” which makes me wonder if Milkshake and Pizza Boy could’ve spoken English to me, if they really wanted…

L: Dear God, you need a human roommate…

A: Frozen peas.

L: Pardon?

A: I’ve seen a GIF of it, you’re supposed to feed the ducks frozen peas. The truly terrifying thing is, by the time they’re done eating, the water is just filthy. They look cute, but I wouldn’t want one to bite me.

R: I’m not gonna tell a gargoyle it’s supposed to eat frozen peas.

A: I suppose not if you don’t want it to bite you.

L: “It”? Did you ask them their pronouns, Rocz?

R: I didn’t, but… They seemed busy.

A: Eating the doughnuts?

R: Yes. Also, opening some kinda gateway.

A [hesitantly]: I think I’ll… delete that post. Yes.

L: Any difference in the meat bouquet?

R: It’s kinda… singing? I guess? Kind of a howling noise.

A: Oh, like the portal.

L: Dang it, I was hoping for salami.

R: Alice, have you involved us in the summoning of a dark god or is the building just making us crazy?

L: Crazy isn’t this cool or fun, Rocz.

A: Yes, it’s much more… It’s just rather depressing. It’s terrifying, I’ll grant you terrifying, but not in a way that gets you a new iPhone…

[door slams]

D [in the studio, approaching the mics]: Oh, fuck, oh, shit…

D [text over slide]: THAT’S ME.

L: Hey, Dev. We’ll get back on topic in a sec and I swear this one won’t go over an hour…

R: I don’t know about that.

A: What’s going on?

D: My awesome state-of-the-art control room is filling up with pink slime — to the point where I can’t even reach any of the buttons!

R [relieved]: Oh, thank God.

D: …and it’s all over my fucking shoes!

[squeaking, squelching]

L: Sounds like Vigo the Carpathian again.

A: Oh, just Vigo.

L: Want me to deal with him? I’ll deal with him. He’s a little bitch. I’ve already had Vigo, I’m immune.

A [bored]: We’ve all had Vigo.

R: He’s like covid.

L: Yeah, he won’t bump you off unless you’re already sick. Or a Republican.

R: But you repeat yourself.

L: Yeah.

A [brightly]: You know that time I embarrassed myself on social media? That was definitely Vigo and not me!

R: I thought maybe you took an Ambien.

A: Wait, which time are you thinking of?

L: Vigo the Carpathian got me banned from Twitter.

R: We are, all of us, Vigo, at all times.

A: How dare you hold us responsible for our actions.

D [mournfully]: There’s a really cool audio mixer in there and I didn’t even get a chance to try it!

L: Give me two seconds, I’ll deal with him…

D: …I even had a button I could press to drop boiling lava on you if you got off-topic, but I didn’t use it because I’m a merciful God.

A [consolingly]: Well, that’s very sensitive of you, Dev. Thank you. Really.

D: Liam, get me my lava button back. I need that lava button! It’s all I’ve ever wanted as an editor and a human being!

L: Don’t even worry about it!

[door opens, howling noise, door slams]

L: It’s not Vigo.

R: Aw, crap.

A: Who is it?

L: It’s a guy, or… I’m not sure. Kinda in between.

R: Could still be Vigo.

D: Yeah, just in someone nonbinary.

A: Describe them.

[door opens, howling noise, door slams]

L: …Hot?

A: You mean as in sexy or on fire?

L: Both, kinda.

R: Definitely not Vigo.

[muttering, general agreement]

A: Now, I… I… I’m just guessing, but…Does this person happen to resemble, um, a minor Duke of Hell? With a nice ass?

L: I’m not looking again, Alice, they’re almost at the…

[snapping noise, explosion, thuds and raining debris, howling noise increases]

L: Ow! Fuck!

R [raises voice to be heard above the howling]: Hey! Hey! That was uncalled-for, sir, or madam, or whatever! And my friend wants their control room back!

D [faintly]: Oh, God, stop making that noise! I’ll never be able to edit that out in post!

GOZER THE GOZERIAN (G): ARE YOU A GOD?

R: No.

A [horrified]: What the fuck, Rocz?

L: Didn’t you even read the Wikipedia page for this?

R [weakly]: It was Alice’s pick.

A: APPARENTLY IT WAS GOZER THE GOZERIAN’S PICK!

L: Here! [scraping noise, typing] There! It’s right there! Under “1984 New York Incident.” Read it!

G: ARE ANY OF YOU GODS?

R: Hang on a second, there, Gozer. I’m just gonna need a couple minutes…

Part 5

[earnmysong]

ship ask, #15 & #30 for Sophie/Harry because they need a little more attention

sophie/harry

whether they go on vacations together and their locale of choice | yessss, definitely, of course! even before they’re officially linked in the personal sphere of life, they find themselves lingering after-mission when they’re called to destinations shiny and new (although, for soph, these are very few and far between!) once they make that particular transition, the only aspects of this routine that change are the length they allow themselves to stay and their ratio of wandering cities versus lazily lounging in their airbnb.

their most-repeated travel arrangement? italy! it’s the perfect combo of history and bookish nonsense [harry’s not-so-secretly a nerd] and artsy elegance for soph! like the perfect song, some places never lose their appeal!  

say anything | oh my god, so. i know the doctor parallel has already played, but. my absolute dream involves harry handling blood or other effects of injury - unexpectedly - like a pro. maybe he gave her those post-collision frozen peas a few episodes back because eliot was otherwise occupied!

super random? the way their christmas ensembles matched in yesterday’s episode murdered me!

feel feel to peruse the ‘musings...’ list and ask for any!

[captainkirkk]

✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes.

Danny Phantom

Danien by artistfingers (NOTE: Technically a comic, but so cute!!)

Part 1 of Undercover Phantom AU

Vlad’s newest bit of tech revokes Danny’s ability to shift out of ghost mode, and he subsequently makes some new friends.

(Otherwise known as, “I heard you like hidden identities, so I gave your hidden identity a hidden identity”)

Undercover Phantom AU: a No One Knows AU featuring lots of silliness and maybe sometimes a little angst, focusing primarily on the newfound friendship between Phantom, Tucker, Sam… and Fenton. An ongoing webcomic, originally posted on tumblr!

TGCF

The Bride Selection by trufflehargau

Xie Lian held up the flyer, and squinted at it through the eye-holes of his mask. Beneath the words ‘Join the Selection! Be the Ghost King’s Bride!’ the sweeping eaves rendered in wobbly black ink matched the silhouette of the building in the distance. Paradise Manor. The Ghost King’s home.

(The Princess and the Pea retelling? Set before the events of the novel. The Ghost King of Paradise Manor is selecting a bride. Xie Lian doesn't really know what he's doing there.)

To see the next part of the dream by goodbye_blue

“I’m sorry Gege, I’m just a bit surprised. Let me make sure I am understanding this correctly,” he said, taking half a step forward. “You are real and also asleep. I am also real, and not a figment of your imagination. We are both real, and asleep, and dreaming the same dream right now.”

Xie Lian shrugged. “It looks like it.”

(When Xie Lian gets hit by a curse, he winds up sharing his dreams with a certain ghost king who would very much like to know where he is in real life.)

SVSSS

open my lungs to let you in by ghostybreads

Shen Qingqiu had a secret. So, naturally, it was only a matter of time before he was hit by a truth serum wife plot. (“How are you?” “Horny. Kind of want Binghe to rail me, I guess. But it’s manageable.” Liu Qingge’s hand on his forehead froze, and he was close enough that Shen Qingqiu could hear his breathing stop. He stared back expressionlessly, the mortification distantly crawling up the back of his neck. Honest One-Horned– The frustrated scream that he usually vented in his head, came out straight from mouth. “aaAAAAAHHHH GODDAMNIT AIRPLANE–”)

Keeping Secrets a.k.a HOT CULTIVATOR IMBIBES TRUTH POLLEN AND DIES (of mortification) (not clickbait) by cinnamonsnaps

"I bet you would beg," Shen Qingqiu said with a snort, letting his eye slide shut. The following silence was somehow remarkably loud. He cracked his eye open again. Luo Binghe was staring at him, face flushed red, hands frozen on Shen Qingqiu's ankle. "... shizun?" (Shen Qingqiu gets forced to tell the truth about a lot of things, unfortunately.)

Star Wars

All the Shadows We Bestow by ShyOwl (NOTE: While I love some dark SW content, I know a lot of people don't. This tone might put some people off)

Luke was born with a shadow over his soul. He was not simply the Chosen One, but a child of a prophecy who is doomed to soil the hearts of those who love him; a harbinger of a new Dark order and authority. He has done everything he can to keep people from becoming poisoned, to avoid his role as this blight, but there is no escaping destiny…and there is no escaping the love Luke has sparked in the galaxy. No matter how desperate or hard he tries.

Clone Wars

a soul that's born in cold and rain/knows sunlight by Killbothtwins

Part 2 of the massive machinery of hope

Obi-Wan Kenobi, time traveler, finds trouble once again when he and Qui-Gon are called to Mandalore— but not THAT Mandalore mission. This one involves still pretending to see the future, babies, a slavery ring, and bothering even more people into becoming his friend. As usual, Obi-Wan drags everyone else along for the ride, including some interesting allies.

[lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks]

Grabbing Smoke

As much time as Sam spent with her best friends, sometimes she enjoyed a little bit of time alone.

Tucker was helping his mother bake cookies for some kind of fundraiser for the hospital, and Danny was busy visiting Pandora for fighting lessons. Apparently they were using swords today.

As fun as it sounded, Sam opted to stay behind, it had been a while since she'd been down to the park to feed the ducks. She didn't get quiet moments like that very often any more.

There was an uncharacteristic skip to her gait as she walked to the park, a canvas tote bag swinging from her arm.

Living in Amity Park, and especially hanging around with Danny, gave her an eerie sense to when something was amiss. Nothing quite like Danny's ghost sense, but she'd learned to detect a particular chill to the air, a prickling at the back of her neck. It could easily be mistaken for a chilly breeze, but Sam knew better. The crunch of gravel under Sam's boots was the only sound permeating the still air, not even the trees were rustling.

She continued her walk through the park, past the wishing fountain and through a trail where the trees grew slightly more dense.

The trail opened up to a large pond, it wasn't anything especially picturesque, the reeds were a little overgrown, the ground was muddy, but there were a few simple weather worn benches by the path that looped around the water.

Sam took a seat, pulling out a bag of frozen peas. She opened it, tipped a few into her hand and tossed them into the water.

The ducks immediately sped across the pond toward her, fighting for the peas that the turtles hadn't already gotten to.

Instead of grabbing another handful, she held the bag out to the empty seat to her left, waiting for a moment before shaking the bag impatiently.

A green hand slipped into the bag, pulling out a handful of peas before tossing them into the water.

"How'd you know I was here?" Kitty asked, now sitting visibly on the other end of the bench as Sam poured out more peas for both of them.

"I have my ways." Sam smirked. "What I want to know is why you've been following me all week."

"You knew for that long and you didn't say nothin'?" Kitty huffed. "Damn, I gotta up my game."

A duck waddled up and nibbled on her boot.

"Alright alright, ya hungry little doofus." Kitty lowered a hand full of peas and cooed as the duck happily ate from her palm. "Aww these guys aren't shy at all, do you come here a lot?"

"When I can." Sam tossed a few more peas into the water for the turtles. "So why are you following me?"

Kitty sat back and pressed her lips together, thinking.

"Look it's just... I don't remember much from when I was livin', you know? It's all sorta grey and fuzzy, I can't remember what anyone looked like, except Johnny." she tossed some peas to a smaller duck at the back of the group. "But as soon as I showed up here in town and I saw your face, I thought I felt... I dunno, somethin'. Like I'd seen you before, or maybe you just reminded me of someone, but I can't remember who, it's like grabbing smoke."

She lobbed a few peas a little harder than was necessary at the water. The turtles sucked them up greedily.

"So you've just been following me hoping you might remember something else?" Sam asked.

"Yeah," Kitty sighed. "But it's not working."

Sam swung her foot idly between a pair of scuffling ducks, splitting them up before tossing out some more peas.

"Maybe I'm related to someone you knew. Where did you grow up?"

Kitty frowned down at the water.

"I... I don't know." she said, deflating somewhat. "I didn't even realise I forgot that."

Sam couldn't help but feel for her, Danny had told her that ghosts would often forget things from their past, especially once they'd been dead for longer than they'd been alive. Somehow she had never really considered how terrifying that must be.

"You know..." Sam started carefully. "I could show you some old family photos. Maybe you'll recognise someone?"

Kitty looked up, eyes shining brightly.

"Really? You'd do that for me?"

"Why not?" Sam shrugged. "If you were here to cause trouble you would have done it by now."

"Aw, I never thought you'd wanna do something like that for me." said Kitty, smiling brightly. "You always seemed like such a bitch."

Sam laughed.

"If you'd spent a week being someone that wasn't Paulina, I would probably have seemed like less of a bitch."

"So you guys are big rivals or somethin'?" Kitty asked, grabbing some more peas and giggling as three ducks tried to eat from her hand at once.

"It's more that we have... conflicting ideologies. She thinks that appearances and reputation are the most important things in life, just like my parents." Sam lobbed some more peas into the water, they both watched them disappear as the turtles quickly snapped them up. "It's shallow and stupid, and I don't get why they have to push that shit on everyone. I don't care what people think, I just want to be whoever the hell I wanna be without having to fight for it all the time."

Kitty's face turned contemplative as she tapped her nails on the back of the bench.

"I think... I was like that." she said, slowly. "I wanted to feel fun and exciting, but my parents..."

She trailed off, frowning.

"My parents... I didn't like them. They didn't like me bein' the way I was, I can't really remember why."

Sam emptied out the last of the peas and scattered them over the ground, she scrunched up the empty packet and shoved it back into her tote bag.

"You know, if we went to school together we would probably have gotten along." said Sam as she stood up, gesturing toward the path. "Let's go check out those photos."

Instead of floating invisibly behind, Kitty walked by Sam's side as they headed back to her house. She idly waved at people as they drove past, grinning when someone stared a little too long and almost ran a red light.

"You know, it's nice bein' able to walk around in the day." Kitty said, skipping a little. "Wish I could do it more often."

"What's stopping you?"

"What do you think?" Kitty's lip pulled up in disgust. "Any time I show up your dumb friend sucks me up in his stupid thermos. Only reason I can walk around right now is because I got you as my get out of jail free card."

"Danny doesn't care if you just want to walk around." Sam scoffed. "He lets ghosts wander around town all the time, he only gets involved when you start breaking things."

"Uggghhh but just walking around is so boring." Kitty pouted. "I mean yeah it's nice and I like it but it gets old real quick."

"Then you'll have to get used to getting tossed back in the ghost zone. Do not pass go, do not collect $200."

"Don't you ever get sick of his goody goody attitude?" Kitty asked. "I mean you and I aren't so different right? You're all about the rebel gig, don't you ever feel like keyin' some asshole's car, or takin' a baseball bat to some mail boxes?"

"Only if they deserve it." said Sam with a smirk. "But I feel like you aren't especially picky about whose stuff you're breaking."

They approached the door to the Manson mansion, Sam hopped up the steps and stuck the key in the lock. She touched the mezuzah on the doorpost without a second thought before opening the door and standing aside to invite Kitty in.

The ghost stared up at her warily.

"I can't get past it."

"Past what?" Sam asked.

"The mezuzah, it keeps me out."

"What?" Sam frowned. "It hasn't stopped other ghosts from getting in."

"Well it stops me." Kitty insisted. "I think it's got somethin' to do with what we believed in when we were alive. I haven't got a problem with churches but when Johnny tried to ride his bike through one he couldn't get in. His mom raised him Catholic, he says he doesn't believe in any of that stuff, but I think he still does, deep down."

"So does that mean you were Jewish?" Sam asked, smiling curiously.

"I AM Jewish." Kitty crossed her arms. "Bein' a ghost hasn't changed that, it just... means that we got a few things a little wrong."

Sam thought about that for a moment, before stepping aside and gesturing toward the door again.

"Well, if you've been invited and you're not going to cause any trouble, then I don't see why you shouldn't be able to come in."

Kitty climbed the steps slowly, fingers reaching out and cautiously brushing over the mezuzah, she didn't feel anything unusual, no zap or burn or pain. She took a step through the doorway and passed the threshold without issue, no invisible force or barrier like the last time she tried to follow Sam inside.

"Well, what do you know." she said, grinning.

Sam lead her into a large, open planned kitchen and dining area, the tiles were bright white save for the specks of mud Sam's boots tracked through the room. The decor was minimalist, the atmosphere bland and sterile, she could smell some kind of citrus surface cleaner.

The back wall was all windows, leading to a patio surrounded by perfectly trimmed grass. As they approached, Sam turned, heading towards a door to their right.

The next room felt a lot more friendly, it was full of bookshelves and red tones. The lounges looked soft and inviting, a fireplace sat cold and empty against the back wall, but Kitty didn't have to try hard to imagine it roaring to life, filling the room with its warm glow.

"This is basically my Grandma's part of the house." Sam informed her, voice low. "Her bedroom is just through there, she's usually napping around this time of day so try not to make too much noise."

Kitty slipped off her jacket and laid it over the back of the lounge, already feeling at home in the cosy little room. She looked over the books as Sam fussed around some kind of large ornate chest.

"Here it is." She hefted a large photo album from the chest, carefully closing and latching it again. "Let's see if you recognise anyone in here."

Kitty sat down beside Sam as she opened up the pristine book, the outer cover was beige with the name Manson inscribed in golden cursive on the front. The first page was full of old faded photos, in greyscale or sepia tones.

"Ugh, I'm not that old." said Kitty, flicking ahead a few pages.

The pictures were colourful now, but still grainy, there was a young blonde boy in seventies style jeans leaning casually against a Chevrolet.

"Wait hold up," Kitty pointed at the boy. "Him, I feel like I've seen him before."

"That's my dad." said Sam, surprised. "His name is Jeremy, did you know him?"

Kitty hummed a little, gently tracing a finger over the picture.

"Jeremy... Jeremy, I'm not sure," she frowned. "But he definitely looks familiar."

They continued through the book, when suddenly Kitty slapped her hand down roughly on a photo of a pair of young women.

"Her! I know her! She was a mega bitch!"

"Shhh keep it down." Sam hissed.

"Sorry," Kitty pointed to the blonde girl in the photo. "That one! I don't know how I knew her, but I definitely knew her. She was a total brat."

Sam slipped the photo out of its sleeve and read the neat cursive on the back.

"This is... my Aunt Caroline, in 1985. She's my dad's sister." Sam looked up at Kitty, amused. "I can't believe you had beef with my family."

"Your family are snobs." Kitty sniffed. "Carrie was such a ditz, she thought she was sooo bitchin' because her daddy bought her a Mercedes."

"Yeah, that sounds about right." Sam grimaced. "Did you guys go to school together or something?"

"Maybe..." Kitty took the photo from Sam's hand, staring intently. "I'm pretty sure I skipped school a lot, I hated it there. It was a private school, we had to wear uniforms, barf."

"I would never have guessed you were a private school kid." Sam shook her head. "But most people would say that about me so it's not like I can judge."

"You went to private school?" Kitty asked, "How'd you end up in that Casper High dump?"

"Got myself expelled." said Sam, voice thick with pride. "Elementary, middle and high school, got kicked out of all three."

"Damn, you're good."

Sam grinned, slipping the photo back in its sleeve and continuing to the next page.

Kitty pointed to a few other photos, remarking on their familiarity, but not quite able to grasp how she knew them, the memories only flickered in her periphery.

"Wait," Kitty whispered, fingers brushing over a polaroid containing three people. "This is..."

The picture looked as though it were taken at some kind of party, a man and a woman faced the camera, each with a glass of champagne raised in their hands. The woman's other hand rested on the shoulder of a teenage girl with auburn hair, pulled into a tidy braid. She stared glumly at the camera.

"That's Katherine." Sam said, pointing to the girl. "She was my dad's cousin, but she got hit by a car when she was-"

Sam paused, looking over at Kitty's wide eyes and then back to the photo.

"Noooo way." Sam pulled the photo out of the sleeve. "Is this you?"

Kitty took the photo in trembling hands.

"I... I forgot I used to look like that." she fiddled with a lock of her green, teased hair. "I remember this party, I didn't want to go but mom and dad threatened to take away all my records and cassettes if I didn't."

Sam stared at Kitty, mouth agape.

"You're Car Crash Katherine?! My dad talks about you all the time! He always told me about the shit you used to get up to, he'd tell me that any kind of 'rebellious behaviour' was a slippery slope to 'dying on the back of some delinquent's motorcycle'." Sam put a hand on Kitty's shoulder. "You were my bad influence role model."

Kitty's red eyes shone with tears, photo still in hand, she wrapped her arms around Sam.

"This is majorly wicked! My legacy lives on! Corrupting the youth from beyond the grave!" Kitty laughed. "My parents would go totally mental."

She stopped laughing, her face turning forlorn as she drew back from Sam and stared down at the picture.

"Are they still alive?" she asked, a tremble in her voice.

"Yeah..." said Sam. "They live in a retirement home in Florida. They don't come around very often."

Kitty traced a finger over their faces.

"I wonder if they miss me." she said quietly. "Or if they were glad to be rid of the family embarrassment."

Sam didn't answer, she had wondered the same thing herself, if her parents would even care if she died. They hadn't given her a lot of reason to think they would.

She rested a sympathetic hand on Kitty's arm.

"Oh, you have a friend over bubbeleh?" a croaky voice spoke from the bedroom doorway.

Sam and Kitty both turned to see Ida Manson shuffling into the room, cleaning her glasses with her sleeve.

"Sorry Grandma, we didn't mean to be too loud." Sam apologised. "This is my... um, friend, Kitty. Kitty this is my Grandma Ida-"

"Ida?!" Kitty shot to her feet, staring in shock at the old woman. "Aunt Ida?!"

Ida squinted at Kitty, before quickly setting her glasses back on her face.

"Well as I live and breath, is that you Kathy?"

"Oh my god this is getting super weird." Sam whispered.

Kitty leapt over the ottoman to wrap Ida up in a tight hug, the old woman was surprised for a moment, but held her warmly in return.

"It's me Aunt Ida! Not really living or breathing but it's me!" Kitty laughed breathlessly.

"Oh my goodness, when all the ghosts started showing up all over town I wondered if I would ever see someone I knew." She rubbed comforting circles on Kitty's back as the ghost choked on a few sobs. "It's good to see you again Kathy."

Ida pulled away and wiped a tear from Kitty's face.

"And I'm so glad you aren't stuck wearing what your parents buried you in."

Kitty couldn't help but laugh through her tears.

"Let me guess, it was that putrid blue dress, wasn't it?"

"The dress wasn't nearly as bad as what they did to your hair." Ida snickered, patting Kitty's hand. "It had little ribbons in it and everything."

"I almost forgot you." Kitty placed her palm gently against Ida's face. "You were the only one in the family who ever loved me for being me, and I almost forgot you. I'm so sorry, I should have come to find you sooner but I just-"

"Shhhh, it's okay bubbeleh." Ida grasped her hand tight. "I think being dead is a pretty good excuse for forgetting a few things."

Sam stood beside the lounge, watching the two in shock, she wasn't entirely certain whether or not to intrude. Whatever she had been expecting to discover with Kitty today, it certainly hadn't been this.

Though in hindsight, it did explain Kitty's familiarity with Sam, people always said she had taken after her Grandma.

Ida let go of Kitty and hobbled over to the photo album still sitting on the lounge.

"Oh you don't want to look at that album." she said, as she shoved it onto the coffee table. She wandered to the other side of the room and began rummaging around in a small cupboard. "You want this one."

She pulled out a book with well worn, peeling edges. Pieces of the plastic sleeves had cracked off and crumbled away. It was old, and weatherbeaten, it was obvious that Ida had looked through it many many times.

"Here we go." she sat down in the middle of the lounge, gesturing for the two girls to come sit beside her. "These are the forbidden photos."

She opened the pages, the photos inside were entirely different from the 'official' album, there were no perfectly poised, prim and proper photos of people in nice, presentable clothes. They were all candid shots, people in the middle of eating or laughing, some were stumbling around blind drunk, a few were smoking joints. There were pictures from parties and protest rallies, in backyards and drive ins.

There was a picture of Jeremy as a young boy, grinning with one of his front teeth missing and grass in his hair.

"Only in this family would losing your baby teeth make a photo 'unsavoury'." Ida grizzled as she continued through the album. "I saved so many pictures that my husband would have thrown out otherwise."

"Ugh, Uncle Peter was such a prude, he wouldn't even let me in the house if I didn't have my shoulders covered up." Kitty rolled her eyes.

"He used to be so much more relaxed when we were young." Ida sighed. "He changed when he inherited his father's business, he forgot how to have fun."

A few pages later Kitty squealed in excitement.

"Oh my god! That's Frankie! She was my best friend, we used to do everything together!"

The Kitty in the photo looked far more like the Kitty Sam knew. Her hair was teased up, and she was wearing a crop top and a miniskirt. The other girl, Frankie, had short curled hair and a leather jacket. They each had an arm around the others' shoulder and grinned wildly.

"I love this one." Ida smiled as she pulled the picture out of the sleeve. "That was the night I gave you a lift to that concert."

"Oh that show was sooo good! I got my nose pierced there! It got so infected, Mom grounded me for a month." Kitty laughed.

"Man, and I thought I was cool for skipping school to go see Circus Gothica." Sam grinned. "I'm gonna have to come home with a tattoo next time."

"I can't believe I forgot about Frankie, I can't believe I forgot about all of this." Kitty held the photo close to her chest, a few tears running down her face. "I'm so glad it's not gone for good."

She kept the photo in hand as they looked through the rest of the album. There were many pictures of Ida, all of them with other people of all walks of life.

"Oh this was when you took us to that pride parade!" Kitty smiled. "You made Frankie so happy, and you knew a lot of the drag queens there, like a LOT."

"Grandma took me to a drag show when I was 10," said Sam. "Even took me backstage to meet them all, my parents thought we went to the theatre to see Romeo and Juliet."

"Oh I have photos from that." Ida flipped through the pages, getting closer to the end of the album. "Here we are, oh Evelyn just LOVED you."

Sam looked at the picture of Evelyn, frowning slightly.

"Oh weird, she kinda looks like Mr Lancer's sister, he keeps her photo on his desk..." Sam paused as she processed what she just said. "That's not his sister is it?"

"You probably shouldn't bring it up." said Ida gently. "Teachers can get in trouble for associating with this sort of thing."

"That's so bogus!" Kitty cried. "I really thought this kinda stuff would be better in the future!"

"It is," Ida assured her. "But we're a long way from perfect."

Ida flipped back through the album, searching for more pictures of Kitty and Frankie. There were a good few of them, each one Ida pulled out and passed over for Kitty to look at and hold onto.

"Oh woah, is that Johnny?" Sam pointed to a picture of Kitty sitting on the back of a motorcycle with a blonde boy. "He looks exactly the same, just a little less pale."

"Oh, did Johnny come back as a ghost too?" Ida asked.

"Yeah! We've been together all this time, in sickness and in death." Kitty beamed. "Mom and dad blamed him for everything I did, even if he wasn't around when I did it. They said him and Frankie were 'corrupting' me."

She rolled her eyes.

"I bet they blamed him for my death too. They'd be so mad if they knew we were still together."

"Just goes to show they had no chance of keeping you two apart." Ida said. "Not even death could do that."

Kitty held the photo tight in both hands, her shoulders began to shake slightly.

"It was my fault you know." she said with a trembling little giggle. "Funny huh? My parents always blamed him for everything, but in the end it was my fault we got hit. We were havin' a fight over somethin' stupid and I distracted him-"

Ida wrapped an arm around Kitty, patting her head comfortingly as she laid it against the old woman's shoulder.

"I think you're being too hard on yourself bubbeleh." Ida whispered gently into her hair. "It was raining, the truck that hit you was running a red light, the driver was charged for both your deaths. Even if you did distract him, you weren't the only card at play that night."

She gave Kitty a light shake.

"And don't think I didn't see the way Johnny used to drive that thing, he was reckless. I have no doubt that he wasn't paying as much attention as he should have been." She placed a kiss on the girl's forehead and squeezed her tight. "It's not fair to hold all of that responsibility on yourself, even if you both did everything right, that truck still would have run that red light, it still would have been raining. It was just pure rotten luck."

Sam had never heard a ghost talk about their death before, even Danny didn't like talking about his accident, and asking about it was incredibly taboo. Sam had been pushing her luck earlier just by mentioning the car crash.

It said a lot about Kitty's love for Ida that she chose to open up about it. Sam couldn't say she was surprised, her Grandma had always been like that. Never anything but an endless well of love and support, and the occasional kick in the pants if you needed it.

"Johnny's always had rotten luck." Kitty sniffed. "Follows him like a shadow."

"Literally." Sam snorted.

After a few more moments, Ida pulled herself away from Kitty, she got up and began rooting through the cupboards, muttering to herself.

"Aha, here it is."

She brought over an empty photo album, it was roughly the size of a small pocketbook, containing only one photo sleeve per page.

"I meant to fill this with photos for Sam to keep." Ida admitted as she shuffled back over to the girls. "But I don't think she'll mind donating it to a good cause."

She winked at Sam, who nodded back.

"Here," Ida pressed the little album into Kitty's hands. "Memories are a fickle thing, but photos are forever."

"I can't take these!" Kitty insisted, pushing the album back. "They're your memories too!"

"Oh my god you're both so old." Sam laughed, "Dad has a printer/scanner. I can make copies."

As Sam took the polaroids to her dad's office, Ida and Kitty pored over the rest of the album, Kitty picking out more photos to copy. She chose a few of Ida and Sam, and even one of Carrie.

"She was a total loser and I hated her but I don't hate remembering her, you know? I want to remember everything, even the bad stuff."

She took a photo of her parents, just one.

When Sam came back with the last batch of photos, Ida finished slipping them into the little album.

"There's still a few sleeves left." Sam pointed out, holding up her phone with a smile. "We've got room for a couple of family reunion pics."

The two girls squished up against Ida as Sam snapped as many shots as she could. Ones where they smiled, ones where they laughed, ones where they laid haphazardly across the lounge together.

Then Sam took a few candids of just Kitty and Ida, as they looked through the new album they'd just made together. Capturing Kitty laughing at something as Ida looked at her with a soft, loving smile.

Kitty clutched the album to her chest as she gave Ida a long, drawn out hug.

"Thank you so much." she said, her voice thick with gratitude. "It's like I can see my life in colour again."

She left the house with the assurance that she would always be welcome back, at any time, and a promise that she would always be looking out for her 'new favourite cousin'.

Sam flicked through the photos she took on her phone, she would have to make sure to have copies printed by the time Kitty returned to visit.

She knew Kitty coming over regularly was going to make things complicated, her apparent newfound protectiveness over Sam could potentially backfire in many spectacular ways, she was petty and troublesome when in the right mood.

But then again, so was Ida, and so was Sam.

At least she had better things to do now than beat up strangers' mail boxes, Danny was certainly going to be glad to hear that.

[vaguekiwi]

7 of Club - Hurt/Comfort: Tony comforts an injured Peter while Bruce and/or Cho patches him up (stitches, resetting bones, dislocated joints, bullet removal, disinfecting wounds, etc.) You don’t have to do all those, I was just throwing out ideas. I don’t really care how Peter’s hurt, I just want to see Tony comforting Peter while he’s being patched up.

♣️ 7 of Clovers / Clubs: “Hurt/Comfort”

Send me a prompt!

-

“Ouch!” Peter’s tongue clicked with a hiss as he jerked away. He pressed instinctively against Tony right beside him, who gave a tight squeeze of reassurance. Standing next to the hospital bed, Bruce watched Peter tentatively before reaching with the disinfectant.

Tony murmured, “Doin’ great, Pete.”

Peter’s voice came out in a thick huff, the gravelly tone obscuring his pain as he grumbled out, “Thanks Mr. Stark.”

Tony chuckled and kissed Peter’s hair, “You haven’t called me that in a long time,”

You must be in a lot of pain, he didn’t finish.

Peter might’ve laughed, but it was a croaked, sad sound.

“Why isn’t it healing?” he fretted, resulting in an uneasy look between Bruce and Tony.

Tony said, “It’s still a new wound, right, baby? We just need to give it some time.”

Bruce finished disinfecting the stitches in Peter’s arm, and then began to bandage it.

“But it should’ve…” Peter trailed off and glared at the floor. He kicked his feet out, the action almost petulant, and sniffed. He winced when Bruce had to lift his arm, his shoulder still sore from where it had been wrenched back into place.

“Should’ve what, Pete?”

Peter mumbled, “I haven’t needed stitches before… things they… they heal. They’re okay.”

Bruce remarked, “They’ll heal even better with the proper medical attention.” He winked at Tony, “Not that I doubt frozen peas and expired Tylenol.”

Peter smarted back, “That was all I needed in Queens.”

Back when it was just the apartment with May. When he was the friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man and he waved off all of his injuries with excuses of bullies and clumsiness.

Now Tony couldn’t free his thoughts from Helen’s warning last night.

She’d met Tony and Bruce just outside Peter’s hospital room. She had started to speak in a low voice, but then seemed to remember Peter’s enhanced senses and ushered Tony and Bruce out of the med bay and across the lobby.

His healing factor makes him reckless, she’d said. It wasn’t a problem with bank robbers or even men like Toomes. But these are bigger battles. If he doesn’t learn to temper himself, he may lose a limb next time if not his life.

“It will heal,” Tony repeated, conviction he didn’t trust threading into his voice.

Peter sniffled and Tony kissed his curls again.

—

Tony was right.

Much to Peter’s relief, and Tony’s own gut-clenching fear, the wounds healed. His stiffness faded and his muscles grew strong again. His gashes knitted themselves back together until not even scars remained. It was slower than Peter was used to, but it would have killed or crippled someone else, so Tony was just grateful that the boy agreed to stay home for a while.

Lay low, eat ice cream for breakfast and ramen at midnight, lounge on the couch and catch up on TV. They spent a lot of time curled up together, Peter’s back pressed to Tony while Tony gently drew his fingers along his arm or through his hair, rubbing circles into the fading pink burns. Peter let Tony indulge him — showering him in soft touches and gentle forehead kisses and lazy mornings and sweetened lattes and whispered I love yous in the middle of the night, barely audible above rain roaring outside the window.

—

In his effort to keep the kid happy and complacent at home, Tony almost bought a puppy. But at the last minute he considered the immense effort involved in socialising a puppy and providing it enough attention, so he went with a bunny instead.

Something low-maintenance. Maybe part of him knew — even subliminally — that Peter wouldn’t stay home forever.

Peter named the bunny Horseshoe — calling him Shoo-Shoo. So now they cuddled on the couch at night with Peter wrapped in Tony’s arms and Shoo-Shoo wrapped in Peter’s.

Horsehoe minded his own business, let Peter pet him, and gave humorous side-eye at comically ironic intervals.

More squeezed hands and late night laughter and languide afternoons and hot cocoa and whispered I love yous in the middle of the night.

—

Peter got a clean bill of health. His last bandage was unwrapped and his last PT appointment checked off. He stopped complaining of twinging pains and started to venture further around the apartment.

Tony caught him climbing the walls and ceilings. Horseshoe had webs on his feet and hopped to keep up behind Peter, ears weighted down humorously by gravity.

Not knowing what else to do or how to keep Peter safe and inside, Tony started inviting the kid to cook with him. It used up Peter’s restless energy, and the more complex the recipe the longer it took to make. One day they spent eight hours assembling a feast of palak paneer and dal makhani and basmati rice and toasted naan.

They didn’t even eat much of it. They just fell asleep on the couch together with Back to the Future playing in the background.

Horseshoe seemed to like the spinach purée.

More tight hugs and warm baths and sweet nothings and gooey cookies and whispered I love yous in the middle of the night.

—

Then, like a parent dragging their feet to college drop-off, Tony watched Peter prepare to leave the nest again.

He’d been healthy for weeks, the heroes of the world had been short-handed for ages, and even Tony could admit the Avengers would benefit from Peter’s quick thinking, agile flips, and golden personality again.

But it didn’t make the reality any easier. Peter was mortal now, in a way that he hadn’t been before — or at least in a way that Tony had refused to see.

It started with quiet, longing glances.

Peter’s smile would fade mid-laugh and his head would turn to the window. Or Tony would walk into the living room and find him standing by the balcony door. He was less engaged with the TV and the computer and the kitchen. He started to tinker with his web shooters and suit coding again.

Tony didn’t want to be controlling, or start an argument. So he didn’t say anything.

Horseshoe watched these developments with a twitching nose; occasionally he would hop to Peter and nudge his hand, drawing the boy’s attention back inside the apartment.

—

Tony expected Peter to just be gone one day. For pictures of Spider-Man swinging across the city or confronting a purse-snatcher to show up in his news feed. For Peter to return to the apartment breathless and bruised after his first day out, and Tony would just have to grit his teeth and lie awake at night and worry with a clenched jaw.

But that’s not what happened.

Peter brought it up somewhere in between the fairy lights and chilled wine and chocolate-covered berries and leisurely online shopping and whispered I love yous in the middle of the night.

He brought it up with Horseshoe cuddled in his arms and his eyes taking in the skyline beyond the balcony.

“I’d be okay.” He said, and somehow Tony knew what he meant. And somehow shame and indignation filled him.

He spluttered out, “I’m not keeping you here.”

“No,” Peter agreed, both of them thinking of their dinner out last week and an afternoon at Starbucks a few blocks away.

“But you don’t want me to… go.” There was a weight to it. An implication beyond their civilian lives.

Don’t want me to be Spider-Man.

Tony said tactfully, “I want you to be safe.”

“And I will be.”

“You can’t know that.”

“Tony,” Peter’s voice was soft and placating and altogether reassuring.

When had the tables turned? When had Tony stopped comforting Peter’s physical pain? When did it become Peter soothing Tony’s worries and fears?

“I’ll be okay.” Peter said, “I’ll be safe.”

Tony nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

He let Peter place Horseshoe in his arms, and he clung to the bunny tighter than he thought he needed to.

Tony watched him walk out onto the balcony, clicking his webshooters into place.

He thought: be safe.

He called: “have fun!”

[waitineedaname]

"Accidently ending a phone call with your roommate with a casual ‘I love you’ seems like a very good reason to move out"

For benrey @ gordon?

“And can you pick up some oat milk while you’re there? I just realized I’m out.”

“Man, oat milk freaks me out,” Benrey said, pushing their shopping cart towards the dairy section anyway. “Like, do oats even have, uh. Others?”

“Others?” There was a beat of silence as Gordon attempted to figure out exactly what the hell Benrey was talking about. “You mean udders?”

“Yeah. Cow things.”

“Dude, that’s not how oat milk works.” Gordon’s laugh made Benrey’s cheap phone speakers crackle.

“Then how does it work? Huh? Mister scientician?” Benrey propped the phone between their ear and shoulder as they opened the fridge door to grab the brand of oat milk he knew Gordon liked.

“I don’t fucking know! I’m not a goddamn milk scientist.” Even through a phone call, Benrey could hear the smile on Gordon’s face. “They squeeze juice out of the oats or smush them into a paste or something. I don’t know. Stop making me think about how oat milk works, it’s going to make me not want to drink it anymore.”

“Cool, so I’ll buy milk with extra lactose then.”

“You will not, unless you wanna deal with me laying on the couch complaining all afternoon because my stomach hurts.”

“You do that anyway.”

“Fuck off, man.” Gordon’s tone of voice didn’t carry any bite to it. “Alright, I gotta go, I’m almost at the end of the queue to pick Joshie up. I’ll see you back at home, okay?”

“Mhm. Love you, bye.” Benrey hung up and shoved their phone back in their jacket pocket. They unfolded the shopping list and attempted to decipher the mix of their own chicken scratch, Gordon’s doctor handwriting, and the occasional misspelled request for snacks in Joshua’s six year old handwriting. Okay, they had to get those frozen chicken nuggets Joshua liked, another pack of seltzer, a can of black beans since Gordon was planning to cook dinner tonight-

Thinking about Gordon made them suddenly freeze in place as they realized what they’d just done. Did… Did they just say “love you” on the phone with Gordon?

Aw, fuck.

They’d been living with Gordon for a while now. It hadn’t always been an easy thing for either of them. When they’d been freshly respawned, both of them had been jumpy around each other at best, and at worst, they were at each other’s throats trying to kill each other. It took a long time and a lot of uncomfortable conversations for them to get to the point where they could interact without an unbearable amount of tension. From there, they were able to start rebuilding an actual friendship. Turns out, they got along a lot better when they weren’t in mortal danger. Who knew!

Living with Gordon involved a lot of rules, both spoken and unspoken. They involved stuff like “don’t ask weird questions about Gordon’s feet,” “if one of them gets too angry, walk it off instead of actually fighting,” and “no gross body horror in front of Gordon’s son.” It also involved shit like “please for the love of god don’t put empty juice cartons back in the fridge” and “don’t stain the carpets with Sweet Voice, this is a rental and that security deposit is worth getting back.” So far, Benrey hadn’t had too much trouble following the rules. They had been a security guard, after all; following rules was supposed to be their thing. Besides, they were a low price to pay to get to spend time with Gordon.

One of those early unspoken rules, however, had been “keep the flirting to a minimum.” That one had been a little tricky at first, but it had been necessary, especially back when they still weren’t on the best of terms. Benrey learned that when Gordon was already worked up, blowing a kiss did the opposite of diffusing the situation. This was news to Benrey. Who didn’t love a little kiss from their buddies? Lame.

That had been an early rule, though, and one that had kind of faded into the background over time. The longer they lived together, the more physically affectionate they both got, and a little domesticity is only to be expected when you share a household. It was nice. Comfortable.

And then Benrey had to go and say “I love you” on the phone. What the fuck.

That had to be crossing a line, right? Gordon was fine with some handholding and some cuddling and they’d make dinner together once a week, but this had to be pushing it.

Benrey went through the rote motions of buying the rest of their groceries without really paying attention, too busy panicking. There was only one option. They had to move out. This was fine. This was totally fine. They could just crash on Tommy’s couch until they find a place of their own because there was no way this wasn’t going to make Gordon freak the fuck out. As much as they loved fucking with Gordon, they’d learned there was the fun kind of freaking him out and the bad kind of freaking him out. They were fairly certain this fell into the bad category.

By the time that they were walking up to their apartment door, they were already mentally packing up all their things, resigned to their fate. They were so stuck in their own head that Joshua barreling into their legs when they opened the door actually startled them.

“Benny!” Joshua cheered, clinging to their jeans.

“Hey, li’l dude.” Benrey carefully tried to push past the kid without tripping over him on the way to the kitchen. Tragically, that’s where Gordon also happened to be.

“Hey, what took you so long?” Gordon asked, taking some of the grocery bags from them. “I thought you’d gotten lost in Costco again.”

Benrey grunted noncommittally and started putting away groceries instead of answering Gordon. Maybe if they didn’t look at him, they could avoid confronting whatever Gordon’s reaction was. Yeah, definitely, this seemed like a sustainable, reasonable decision to make. Yep.

“Dude.” Gordon’s hand suddenly appeared on their forearm. Benrey stared at it, then looked up at Gordon’s concerned face. “Are you okay?”

“Huh?”

“You’re putting carrots in the utensil drawer.”

Benrey looked down at their hands again. Oh. So they were.

“You’ve been acting weird ever since you got back from the store,” Gordon said, gently taking the carrots away from them. “Did something happen? You wanna talk about it?”

Benrey screwed their mouth up. No, they didn’t want to talk about it, but learning how to talk through things like adults was something they both had agreed to do. That had been a rule introduced by an exasperated Tommy, sick of mediating their bullshit. So, they sighed and looked away while Gordon put the carrots in the vegetable drawer of the fridge. “I was thinking about how I’ve gotta move out.”

“What?” Gordon stood up too fast and smacked his head on the freezer door. He swore loudly, and Benrey reached over to hand him a bag of frozen peas to put on the back of his head. “Thanks. But also, what? Since when are you moving out?”

“Uh, since now?” Benrey said, confused. Shouldn’t it be obvious?

“Why?”

“‘Cause I said I love you on the phone? Dummy? You, uh, a fucking old man got bad brain disease, not remembering things?” They said, defaulting to picking on Gordon to avoid focusing on anything else. Gordon stared blankly at them for a moment, then, against all odds, a grin spread across his face.

“Benrey,” He said, and Benrey decided he didn't like that tone one bit, “Are you embarrassed?”

“Whuh? No.” There was no way they could be embarrassed. That definitely wasn't what was going on here. Nope. Not a bit, “...Maybe.”

“Dude, you don't have to be embarrassed about that.” Gordon laughed. “Do you know how often I've said stupid Freudian slips? I called my sixth grade teacher mom once and wanted to change my name and move to Canada. I've been there.”

“It wasn't, uh… It wasn't too much? Not crossing a line or anything?”

“Nah, man. It was kinda sweet.” Gordon flashed him a smile and finished putting away the last of the groceries.

“Cool.” Benrey relaxed, letting go of the tension that had been building in their shoulders. “That's good ‘cause I was gonna fight you for custody of your Xbox.” Gordon snorted.

“Good fucking luck, you’re too much of a Playstation guy to win that case.”

The evening passed relatively uneventfully from there. Gordon enlisted Benrey’s help in cooking dinner, and Joshua eagerly told them all about the cool dinosaur facts he’d learned in class that day. They went through the easy routine of watching just one episode (which of course always turned into several episodes) of Joshua’s choice of TV, then Benrey helped wash up in the kitchen while Gordon put Josh to bed. Gordon joined them as they finished washing dishes and squeezed Benrey’s shoulder affectionately when they were done.

“Alright, man, I think I’m gonna head to bed early tonight.”

Benrey nodded. “Cool. I’ll be quiet.”

“Don’t worry about it. G’night, dude.”

“Night, Gordon.”

“Oh, and Benrey?” Gordon paused in the doorway of his bedroom and waited until Benrey glanced up at him. Gordon smiled. “Love you too.”

He shut the door before Benrey could respond, leaving Benrey to stare blankly at the door. They let out a groan, careful not to wake Joshua. Oh, Gordon was going to be the death of them.

[sesamestreep]

Eleanor/Chidi for 17, "holding the other’s chin up"

It’s only later on that Eleanor will remember that, when she was alive, she once said the only place she’d ever play Ultimate Frisbee was in Hell. Right now, in this particular moment, though, she’s too distracted by the enormous bump on Chidi’s forehead.

“Man, your reflexes need some work,” she says, as she surveys the damage.

“Yes, thank you, Eleanor, because now is obviously the time when I will be most receptive to criticism,” Chidi replies, looking miserable and childish the way he’s folded up on the grass. He looks like he needs an orange slice after his Little League game.

“I speak from a place of love, dude. I know you’re shredded under that dorky cardigan,” she says, motioning to the sweater he chose to wear, yes, over his jersey for the game Michael arranged. “You’d think at some point in all that working out you’d have picked up some hand eye coordination.”

He pulls off his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose in what she assumes is frustration. “I prefer to get my exercise from solo activities. You know, ones that involve zero physical contact with others.”

Eleanor clicks her tongue. “Okay, you’re hurt so I’m not going to make any of the 85 masturbation jokes that just came to mind, but I need you to know that I thought of them. Hey, maybe I am becoming a better person!”

“Eleanor…”

“Right! Time and place! Janet!” she calls, and the soft boop that heralds Janet’s arrival sounds over her left shoulder.

“Hi, Eleanor! Hi, Chidi! Enjoying the Ultimate tournament?” Janet asks, sunny as always.

“Not so much,” Chidi gripes, as Eleanor rolls her eyes at the reminder of Michael’s insistence that the sport is called just Ultimate, not Ultimate Frisbee, at every single opportunity all day. It’s the forking Good Place, who cares about trademark law here?!

“Yeah, Chidi here got hit pretty hard in the noggin with a Frisbee, so could we get a bag of frozen peas for that bump?” Eleanor asks, sweetly. “Oh, and a flashlight!”

“Sure thing!” Janet replies, and Eleanor’s requests materialize immediately. “Anything else?”

“No, that’s all! Thanks, Janet!”

There’s another boop and they’re alone again, so Eleanor crouches to put the bag of peas on his forehead. Chidi reaches up to hold the bag himself and their hands brush, which makes her stupid little heart race. She assumes that these weird, giddy feelings that sometimes happen when she’s alone with Chidi have everything to do with being stuck in the Good Place with a soulmate she can’t actually bang for ethical reasons or whatever, and nothing to do with real romantic feelings. Because she doesn’t have those for people and she certainly doesn’t have them for Chidi. Sure, he’s cute enough, for a nerd, but he’s not her type. And besides, she’s not his real soulmate, so it would be kind of evil to try to hook up with him. That’s a thing she worries about now, because she’s such a good person.

“Why did you ask for a bag of peas, instead of an actual ice pack?” Chidi asks, interrupting her thoughts.

“A frozen bag of peas has healing properties that a regular old ice pack does not,” Eleanor says, glad for the distraction.

He frowns and the lines between his eyebrows deepen as he considers this. “There’s scientific proof of this?”

“No, Professor Buzzkill, but there’s anecdotal evidence,” she says, and Chidi smiles briefly at that. “Trust me, I’ve been in a lot of bar fights in my life. I know how to make the swelling on a black eye go down fast so you can still make it to your Tinder date later and not have him be all, ‘oh no, what happened? Should we go to the hospital? Are those someone else’s hair extensions in your purse?’”

Chidi just blinks at her in response. “Wow. That was…chilling,” he says, eventually. “What’s the flashlight for?”

Eleanor brandishes it like a sword. “To check your pupils, see if you have a concussion.”

“Let me guess, this is another thing you have a lot of experience with.”

“You know what they say, it’s not a good bar crawl unless someone ends up in the emergency room,” she says. “Also applies to bachelorette parties and baby showers.”

Chidi shakes his head, but says nothing. Eleanor leaves him to hold the bag of peas on his own and moves her hand to his chin so she can tip it up and get a better angle on his eyes. She clicks the flashlight on and shines it into his eyes one at a time, before pulling it away. His pupils react normally, and he tracks the movement of the flashlight pretty well, so he’s probably fine. She’s still considering him, though, when his eyes meet hers and that stupid excited feeling from before comes back in full force. This is precisely why she normally avoid eye contact with men! It’s way too easy to convince yourself you have feelings for someone if you gaze into their eyes long enough. She definitely saw a viral video on Facebook about that when she was alive and commented on it with a barfing emoji.

“So, what’s my diagnosis?” Chidi asks, softly, after they’ve been staring at each other for like a hundred years.

Eleanor clears her throat, and does her best impression of someone entirely unaffected by intense eye contact. “You’re fine,” she says, as dismissively as possible. “I told you it was nothing, you big baby.”

“I guess that makes sense,” he says with a self-deprecating smile. “Why would there be concussions in paradise?”

He hands her back the bag of peas and, of course, the bump on his head is magically gone. Eleanor takes the bag from him with limp hands, her mind still stuck on his question. His injury might have healed quickly, but what was the point of having it in the first place? What’s the point of making her and Chidi join this league in the first place, if neither of them liked this sport when they were alive? It doesn’t make sense.

Her gaze shifts over to where Michael is standing in a huddle with the others, talking in a hushed voice. His eyes are on her and Chidi, though, and it’s not quite concerned, the way he’s looking at them. She can’t name the emotion in his eyes, actually, but she doesn’t like it. No sooner does she notice it than it’s gone and Michael’s face smooths out into its normal, pleasant expression. He gives her a small, encouraging wave and turns his attention back to the huddle.

“What is it?” Chidi asks, following her gaze.

“Nothing,” Eleanor says, because that’s probably what it is. She’s just being paranoid. Everything is fine. She turns her attention back to Chidi, reaching out a hand to pat his knee. “That’s enough Frisbee for us, I think. Let’s go get you some orange slices, champ!”

[maybe-im-dark]

Right on the nose

It was one of those days that Murdoc wished had never begun.  What he wouldn't have givenat that moment for a remote control with a fast-forward function for his life!  But now he was standing here next to Hannibal, involved in a nasty fight with their father, no idea how it had even started in the first place.

"You keep talking about the war and how hard it was!" Hannibal yelled Sebastian.  "You weren't even there!  You're just sitting here getting drunk while I slog away in this damn shop every afternoon just so you can take my money and spend it on more booze!"

Sebastian snorted.  "Be grateful!  If I had been born fifteen years earlier I might be dead now and where would you little scabs be?”

Hannibal crossed his arms and jutted his chin defiantly.  Then he turned on his heel, muttering quietly under his breath, "I wish you were."

Unfortunately not quiet enough for their father, who despite his excessive alcohol consumption had good eyes and ears.  In the same instant he had grabbed Hannibal by the arm, pulled him towards him and rammed his fist straight in his face.  Murdoc's half-brother dropped like a sack of potatoes.  The only difference being that potato sacks didn't curl up afterwards holding their faces groaning.

"You better watch your bloody mouth, you little sod!  Next time you can pick up your teeth off the floor!” Sebastian spat contemptuously at the whimpering picture of misery his son had become.  Then he stomped out of the room.  Murdoc heard the clatter of hangers as their father fumbled for his coat.  He would go to his favorite pub to get drunk.

Hannibal recovered surprisingly quickly.  Not even fifteen minutes  went by before he took the chance to finally be alone in the house.  And so he sat in front of the TV, squeezing a packet of frozen peas over his black eye and talking to his friends on the phone.  Murdoc had never liked his brother's friends.  They were all aggressive skinheads whose brains were in no way inferior to their shaved bowling ball skulls.  They spent most of their time loitering on street corners, harrassing passer-bys or pushing small children around.  Murdoc himself had been their target often enough, and after school he knowingly took a long detour home.

"Oh yeah mate, that girl was really ugly!" Hannibal laughed, the receiver of the rotary phone crammed into the hollow of his shoulder, the cord casually wrapped around his finger.

Murdoc walked up the stairs not wanting to hear the stupid talk.  He was about to go straight to the bathroom to read comics on the toilet when he noticed his half-brother's open door.  He knew it was forbidden and that he would get himself into the biggest trouble of his life.  But maybe that's why it attracted him?  Hannibal's room and Father's liquor cabinet were taboo for him.  That's what the rules said.  But his legs seemed to be moving without his doing.  And before he knew it, he was already inside.  Hannibal's sacred retreat was a pigsty.  Mountains of dirty laundry piled up around the bed.  Plates of leftovers stacked up on every surface.  The bare, unplastered walls were covered with posters from various metal bands.  Scattered on the floor were magazines featuring bare-breasted women, the pages stained with a liquid Murdoc chose not to ponder the origin of.  Then it caught his eye.  The object of his desire.  A turntable.  Judging by the looks, Hannibal must have nicked it from the trash.  Nonetheless, it seemed to work, otherwise Hannibal would hardly have kept it.  After all, there was already more than enough worthless junk in this house.  In awe, Murdoc knelt in front of the device and took the record lying on the lid.  We party by DIO.  Hannibal's favorite band.  Murdoc carefully pulled the record out of the cover, placed it on the turntable and put on the headphones.  Hopefully it would play at all.  Sebastian often didn't bother paying the electricity bill and so there was often only cold water,  that they could dump over their heads as there was no bathtub.  Until the old drunk remembered that beer tasted better when you could cool it in the fridge.

Then Murdoc slowly lowered the tone arm.  The needle seemed to dance on the groove like a ballerina on a tightrope.  In the next moment the most beautiful music he had ever heard followed.  It was loud, wild and didn't follow any rules.  It was just like himself. Inevitably, he started nodding until finally he couldn't control himself and tossed his head from left to right, something that later became officially known as headbanging and which, as an adult, he would claim  to have invented at that exact moment.

However, his ecstasy was short-lived.  The door flew open with a crash and Murdoc flinched.  Confused, he stared at his half-brother until his eyes fell on the cable in his hand and he realized with horror that his idiot self had never plugged in the headphones.

Hannibal glared at him with his good eye.  The other consisted of a blue-red swollen mass.

"You're dead, Face-ache."

His voice was no more than a whisper, yet it sent chills down Murdoc's spine.  Hannibal crossed the room in four steps.  His arm shot out and at first Murdoc thought he wanted to turn off the music.  Instead, he grabbed his hair and pulled him up.  Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion.  He saw Hannibal's hand clench into a fist and gradually move toward his face.  He heard a dull crack and then an indescribable pain shot up his nose straight into his brain, causing white dots to flicker across his field of vision.

[biillys]

thinking about max and her having dark thoughts about billy and living with the guilt of it all when the worst truly did happen to him. 

like it wasn’t her fault and it’s never gonna be her fault but that doesn’t mean it isn’t gonna weigh on her specifically, especially those nights when she can’t sleep or when she has to catch the bus to school instead of getting driven or when she has to make herself dinner becos her mum’s never home now. 

and there’s probably always gonna be a little voice inside her head telling her she got exactly what she wished for. 

that maybe if she was a better sister, maybe if she cared more, maybe if she had done literally anything differently - maybe things wouldn’t have turned out the way they did. maybe billy would’ve survived, maybe he would’ve never been dragged into the mess in the first place.

but none of that happened, and instead he’s dead, and barely anyone even remembers his name, let alone mentions it. 

but then also thinking about how billy probably had similar dark thoughts about max, not necessarily in that context, but like. 

sometimes, on the shitty days, when he was fucking over it; wishing that his dad would just have a go at her, the actual problem, instead of him.

that maybe, instead of pushing him around for bringing her home late - pushing her around instead for being the actual reason they were late. he’s not asking for a fucking hospital visit, but maybe just something to make her fucking understand. 

he knows life isn’t fair, and complaining about it will get him nowhere - but god, sometimes the way she can do no wrong and the way he can only do wrong makes him wanna scream.

and when it finally happens, when he finally comes home one day to a subdued max and a tense neil, he wants to feel relieved. wants to be happy that it's finally both of them getting the full neil treatment, not just him. but instead he just feels guilty, like absolute fucking shit.

he tries to get her to talk to him, to give him a clue on what went down, but she's having none of it. pairs the bruise on her cheek with a miserable mood but doesn't complain once. does the dishes without being told and puts the garbage out even though that's usually billy's job.

billy doesn't sleep that night all. loses his appetite every time he see's the mark on her face.

the 2nd time it happens, billy's there to witness it. doesn't even realise anythings about to happen til it's too late. didn't realise his dad, who's let max run wild with her friends since the second the got to hawkins, all of a sudden has a real stick up his ass about max going out with them. turns out, she didn't either; she completely brushes neil off and gets ready to walk out the door before neil's voice rings out, stopping her in her tracks. billy knows the tone well, it's rooted billy to the spot, paralysed with dread and anger, more times than he can count.

max is at least smart enough to turn around and listen, which billy considers a win. she doesn't fight back like billy thought she would. was worried she would. hoped she would. instead, she let's neil have his shitty dad monologue, before she goes to push past him to hide out in her room. neil grabs her by the arm before she can get far, asks her if she understands. makes sure she verbally repeats the words to him before he lets her go.

if billy wasn't such a shitty excuse of an older brother, he could've stopped that. could've stepped in between, gotten himself involved, protected her.

but there's a phantom pain across his face, and flashing memories of his mom yelling at neil to let him go, holding up some frozen peas to his nose, telling him to stop involving himself when his dad gets like this, to keep himself safe, save himself.

and he knows this isn't the same, that he's the oldest now, the one meant to protect; but his own protector fucking left, and his idea of being a hero is messed up, and max is a big fucking kid that doesn't need her battles fought for her. max should know by now to listen to neil the first time, instead of brushing him off.

billy walks away.

(he never gets a chance to step in the third time.)

[fandomsandfeminism]

3 Things to try if you want to be “healthier” in the New Year that DON’T involve calorie counting.

Let’s be real- calorie counting is time consuming, stressful, and doesn’t guarantee balanced nutritional choices in a diet. However, we know that making more nutritionally sound choices in our diet can have positive effects on both our mental and physical health.  

If you have been feeling like your diet hasn’t been great lately (and who could blame you! There’s been a pandemic! Goodness, eat the food that brings you comfort and sustains you!) and you are worried that this might be affecting the way your body and mind feel- these are just meant to be some things to try to see if they help. (No one is obligated to change anything about their diet if they don’t want to!) 

SO, here are 3 things you can try that will lead to more balanced nutritional choices without counting calories IF that is something you are looking to try.  

1. Replace (in part or in total) sugar drinks/soda with sugar-free drinks.

The easiest place to cut refined sugar in your diet is soda. Try instead: Diet soda, unsweetened flavored sparkling water, unsweetened tea, or even just normal water! This doesn’t have to mean NO NORMAL SODA EVER, but when you can swap it out, consider it. 

2. Replace (in part or in total) high carb sides with green veggies at dinner. 

This is where frozen veggies are a real godsend. If you would normally have 1 cup of rice with dinner? Try 1/2 cup of rice and 1/2 cup of broccoli (You can even cook them together in the rice cooker.) Would you normally have 1 cup of pasta as a side? Try 1/2 pasta and 1/2 peas and carrots (steam them, add butter, salt, pepper, SEASON THEM) Get to know the frozen veggie aisle of your grocery store. Eating out? Hell yeah get that side of mashed potatoes. Maybe make the other side green beans.  You can still eat the same amount of food, but green veggies will give you more bang for your buck in vitamins than more carb heavy sides alone. 

3. Replace (in part or in total) carby/sugary breakfast options with protein/fat ones instead.

Because of convenience  and affordability, most of us have pretty carby/sugar breakfasts- cereal, bagels, waffles, donuts, poptarts, muffins, toast etc. For a bigger bang for your buck though, protein and fat based foods for breakfast will actually help you feel full longer and avoid any weird mid-morning sugar crashes. Try subbing in things like nuts, eggs, cheese sticks, yogurt, even a few slices of lunchmeat for all or part of your breakfast. (I really like the Slimfast Advanced Nutrition shakes. They are also very low effort. lol) 

Most importantly: Food shouldn’t be a source of guilt. 

This post is not meant to imply that having a Dr. Pepper and some Mac-n-Cheese and a bowl of cereal are BAD and if you eat them you have made BAD CHOCIES. There is a place in a happy, healthy life and a healthy, balanced diet for these things! The goal is just to add in some more variety and nutritionally dense options as well. 

Food should be a source of comfort and pleasure. Never force yourself to eat something that you aren’t enjoying because you think it’s “good for you” in some nebulous way. Eat what brings you joy and what makes your body feel good.