#my horrible son. i picked him from a cardboard box

[greenbetula]

AKIMIKOOOOOOOOO

[k-ru-h]

theres something to be said about inherent human kindness and art and all that

i had an absolute trainwreck of a day and an hour long gap between classes, so i decided to plop by the local art store thats too far away from my home but maybe a 10min walk from school. they had really good prices and i wanted to buy the pretty pastel watercolors for myself and my friend, to make the day less miserable.

the storeworker, a kind-looking old man (surely at least in his 60s), picked up all the aquarelle boxes, saying he didnt want me, a seemingly abled person, to have to kneel on the floor to look at them. and he told me how he doesnt stock all the colors but he explained to me in detail, umprompted, how to order them for myself, with or without paying him. and he told me how hes owned this store for 28 years and hasnt changed locations (despite the location being horrible) because hes genuinely attached to this one. this shitty, tiny little hole in the wall place with no AC or even proper ventilation. and he started talking about his days as an artist, and all the incredible people he met, and how stores from the capital monopolizing certain brands ruined his once proud selection of products, and how to properly use watercolor paper, how to use distilled water and stick to one paper brand and how his personal dream is to get his hands on the aquarelles created only by and for that one russian college, and he treated me, a fucking infant baby child (18) whos been doing aquarelles for like two days (4 years) as a genuine peer and worthy conversation partner. and i almost started crying from the genuine love i felt for him.

and the day after, i got hungry between classes and decided to stop by the bakery. the bakery itself is overpriced - for the same price as other ones, you get maybe half the product. and its been closed for tax fraud maybe a month ago.

and this storeworker is an elder woman - not as old as the artist, but surely near or in her 50s - and she sometimes wears the bracelet i made her. the other students call her the "empress" of the store (named "empress"). she is the only reason i go there, and i only go when shes working the shift. at first it was because of the free food shed give us. shed always toss in a few cookies, she even remembered my favorite, and shed wish you a "royal" day (pun intended). soon, we started going there outside of the rush hours, and actually talking to her. her dream has always been to be an opera singer, but this is a poor country, and she has a sickly mother and a son who lives abroad to take care of. but she told us she found her fulfilment in work through the kindness she spread - not just the free food, but the compliments and kind words. and i almost cry every time i remember she didnt know she was so loved by the students. when i told her everybody only goes there for her, she actually didnt believe me, and when i noticed she dyed her hair (we now have similar haircolors!), she put it down and posed in front of the little hanging mirror with the biggest smile ive ever seen on her.

and i havent seen this person lately, im assuming because i havent been to one of the two places she frequents and she, probably, has, but theres this wonderful woman - i cant tell if shes old or worn down by hard work and stress - who always has the most vibrant, colorful jewelry and carries a little cardboard box.

and she approached me one day, i was going to meet up with some friends to talk about lord of the rings, and she stopped me to tell me how beautiful my hand made jewelry was. and she was holding a puppy under one arm, almost cartoonishly, and told me all about how she used to have a jewlery stand right here in this street. all of the money shes ever made shes invested in taking care of stray cats and dogs. even if it meant shed go hungry, she always made sure the animals she took care of were fed and warm and happy. but the stand was closed because of tax issues, and no cop was sympathetic towards the little kitten or puppy shed always take with her, so she was forced to make ends meet however she could and beg for money or pet food donations. and this wasnt her pressuring me for money - i hadnt even brought my wallet that day, i had my phone and some tea. this was her genuinely just wanting to stop and compliment me, and being delighted to have someone to talk to, and whenever i see people treat her like dirt i want to cry.

my point is, i met a painter and a singer and a craftsman, and all of them were the kindest people ive ever met. and i don't really look approachable, i usually only get hateful looks in public, but these three people, with far more experience than me, just genuinely wanted to talk about the things they cared about, and what they create, and i think creation makes you kinder. i think painting and singing and crafting, no matter if its a life long profession, a dream, or a failed venture, makes you more than the summ of all your parts. or something cringe like that idfk

[messers-moony]

One in the Same | R.B

Paring: Regulus Black X Wife!Reader

Summary: Reader notices Draco going through the same pain as her ex lover and desperately wants fix her faults.

“Mr.Malfoy, can you stay after class, please?” 

“‘Course, Professor Black.”

An average day in second year. Professor Black - Y/n - taught History of Magic after Professor Binns decided his time was up. Too long of teaching sleeping students who could care less about his lessons. However, once Y/n took over the position, kid's grades improved and people were no longer sleeping. She made things fun and inventive.

After class time was up, everyone filed out of the classroom aside from the blond Slytherin boy. Draco has always been on the good side of Professor Black. She was always extremely kind to him despite his rather sour attitude at times. But Draco was always hesitant to initiate a conversation to really speak his feelings to her. But this was the first time she had him stay after class. 

Y/n pulled out the chair in front of her desk as he sat down. His white-blond hair and gleaming blue eyes. His young face, not yet defined. Y/n with her h/c hair and curious glinted e/c eyes. 

“Draco, I want to start this by saying I don’t know what your home life is like.” Y/n began, “I went to Hogwarts with your parents, though, and he wasn’t always kind. Your mother was cordial with me, though.”

“If you don’t find me intruding, what’s your home life like?” 

“I- Um- It’s good.” Stammered Draco, “Father and Mother are always kind.”

Y/n’s eyes glinted with curiosity, “Lucius tolerated me.”

“Tolerated you?”

“I married one of his best friends.” Y/n chuckled, “He didn’t have a choice.”

Draco tilted his head, “Sirius?”

“Oh heavens no!” Y/n exclaimed, “Regulus. Sirius Black's brother.” 

“My- My dead cousin?” He queried. 

She nodded, “Yes. I married Regulus right after graduation. His parents weren’t thrilled, but he loved me so, here we are.”

“May I ask a question?”

“Shoot.”

“What were his parents like?”

“Horrible. The worst.” Y/n spat, “Sirius got the worst of it, but Regulus did occasionally too.”

“Walburga and Orion were awful. Using the crucio curse is not a great punishment for kids.” Draco’s eyes widened, “Both of them had scars from the curse. Sirius ran away at sixteen, and Regulus was used as their puppet. So used that at the age of eighteen, he felt like he had to prove himself. Which inevitably got him killed.”

“How did you deal with it?”

“Well, would you like my honest answer or my Professor answer?”

“Honest, please.”

“Between you and I, I still haven’t gotten over it.” Y/n shrugged, “I see something that reminds me of him, and I’m back at the start all over again. It takes time, and it’s taken plenty of time, but here I am, doing what I love. Teaching kids.”

“Anyways.” Y/n smiled, “You’re dismissed. I’m sorry I took up your time. However, if you ever feel the need to speak with me, let me know. Okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Draco picked up his bag, rustling as he stood up. The blond boy was still digesting all the information he gained. He couldn’t believe that his cousins got the crucio curse for a punishment. He thought his parents were bad. Theirs was way worse. Draco was about to walk out of the classroom but turned last minute to look at his Professor. 

“Professor?” 

“Yes, Draco?”

“There’s-“ He swallowed, “There’s a Quidditch match this Saturday. Slytherin versus Ravenclaw. If you have the time, I’d like you to come.”

“Of course. I’ll be there.” Y/n smiled. 

He walked out of the room without a second stop. He felt better about himself now. He had someone who genuinely seemed to care about him. Draco didn’t trust her just yet, but he wouldn’t be opposed to speaking with her as he had just now in the future. Professor Black had always been open and honest with her students. Perhaps that’s why kids liked her so much. 

Saturday arrived quicker than Y/n would’ve hoped for one reason. She, herself, didn’t own any Slytherin-colored merchandise anymore. But there was a box in her quarters that she brought with her to Hogwarts every year. Regulus’s old clothes meaning all his scarfs, ties, button-ups, pants, hats, etc. Y/n couldn’t seem to get rid of them. Frankly, she didn’t want to get rid of them either. 

Carefully she pulled the cardboard box from the top of her closet. Taking a pair of scissors and breaking the tape seal she had put on it multiple years ago. Inside laid many pieces of the evergreen and silver cloth. Y/n’s hands gravitated to the green and silver scarf. Bringing it to her nose, she was shocked. It still smelt like him. Godric, this was going to be more challenging than she initially thought. 

Nonetheless, she put it around her neck along with her button-up and tight-fit pants. Y/n put on the green gloves, much too big for her but had fit Regulus perfectly, the tie, and the scarf. It brought her a sense of nostalgia. It made Y/n feel like she was a fifth-year going out with Regulus on a date to Hogsmeade. But she wasn’t fifteen or in fifth year. Y/n was a Professor and a full-grown adult. And Regulus was dead. 

The game was going well for Slytherin at the beginning. But like most Quidditch games, things can change rather quickly. Ravenclaw was studious. That was for sure. They played skillfully. Y/n sat in the Professor stands with the rest of her colleagues. She sat between McGonagall and Flitwick. But white-blond hair caught her attention in front of her. Lucius Malfoy was here spectating his son. 

McGonagall nudged her, “Where’d you get the Slytherin gear?”

“Regulus.”

“How have you been, dear?” McGonagall questioned softly, “It’s been a whirlwind, but nothing I can do will bring him back, so ‘m still here for him. It’s what he would’ve wanted.” Y/n replied. 

Minerva placed a hand on the girl's knee, “If you need anything, let me know.”

“‘Course, Professor.”

The game ended tragically. Slytherin had just tied the game when Cho Chang had caught sight of the snitch. Sadly, she was able to grasp it before Draco. Leaving Slytherin with two-hundred and thirty points while Ravenclaw ended with three-hundred and eighty points. Lucius seemed furious with this conclusion and stormed off the stands. Y/n knew something was up, so she followed him. 

She came up in a deserted hallway in Hogwarts. Draco stood - now changed into the usual Hogwarts robes - and his father stood before him. From the view she had, Draco’s back was to her, and his father was towering over the boy. 

Lucius had a cold and icy voice, “You are insufferable!”

“You had one job, Draco! One! Catch the damn snitch.” He scolded, “Perhaps you were too daft to figure that out?”

“‘M sorry, father. I didn’t mean to. Honest.” Draco was pleading and begging for mercy; it made Y/n’s heartache at the familiar words. 

“Mum, Dad, I seriously didn’t mean to!” Regulus had cried after breaking a vase, “Excuses, excuses, they won’t get you anywhere in life, boy!” Orion shouted. 

Tears collected in his silver eyes, “‘M sorry! ‘M so sorry!”

Walburga pointed her wand at him, “Crucio.”

Lucius scoffed, “Malfoy’s don’t cry, wipe those tears.”

“Should‘ve sent you to Durmstrang. You come to Hogwarts and forget everything I’ve ever taught you.”

“Father, I really didn’t mean to! She just got there faster than me.” Draco begged. 

Y/n saw it before Draco did. Lucius raised his palm slowly, and Draco flinched. Y/n saw the pale hand rise into the air, and without a second thought, she ran in front of the young boy, taking the blow that was meant for Lucius’ son. Draco heard the sound but never felt the impact. Carefully he opened his eyes to see Professor Black standing in front of him, a hand on her cheek. 

“How dare you get in the way!” Lucius yelled, “How dare I? How dare you for trying to leave a hand on your son!” Y/n retorted her bright cheek red from impact. 

Draco was appalled, “Draco is your son! Not a toy or a puppet, and I will not stand for this!”

“You don’t have to, half breed.” Lucius seethed, “As you said, he’s my son. Not yours.”

“I could give less fucks!” Y/n exclaimed, “Draco is my student. I will not be having you lay your hands on my students.”

Lucius scoffed, “Where’s your child, mm?”

“Right, you don’t have one.” Lucius answered, “Because your blood-traitor of a husband decided to get himself killed!”

“Regulus was not a blood-traitor for trying to right his wrongs!”

“Regulus and Sirius were no different from each other.”

“Leave them out of this!”

“Oh, so it’s still a soft spot for you?”

“So help me, I’ll-“

“Petrificus Totalus.” Draco stated while holding his wand, causing his father to fall to the ground, paralyzed. 

Y/n stared at the body in shock, “Draco.”

She didn’t even have time to reprimand him before he burst into tears. Y/n turned quickly and embraced him into a much-needed hug while the boy sobbed on her shoulder. Y/n’s hands went through Draco’s white-blond hair gently while he let every emotion out. She pulled away and wiped the tears on his cheeks. 

“You’re going to be okay, I promise.” Y/n informed, and Draco nodded, “Th- Thank you, Professor.”

Y/n smiled and sent him off to the Slytherin common room, leaving her to deal with Lucius. The Professor dragged him to Madam Pomfrey to deal with. Later that night, in her quarters, while brushing her teeth, she noticed the considerable bruise covering her left cheek: Blue and purple hues mixed to create a dark blue-violet looking color, almost grey. 

Sixth year was now here. Y/n’s fourth year of teaching at Hogwarts, and she couldn’t have asked for a better job. On September 1st, she went through the floo-network to arrive in her teacher's quarters. Looking at the time, it seemed that students were just about reaching onto the grounds when a knock sounded at her door. 

“Come in!”

A blond boy, much taller, defined face, and grey eyes had just walked into her teacher's quarters, “Good evening, Professor.”

“Good evening, Draco.” Y/n greeted smiling brightly, “What's on your mind, sweetheart?”

Draco didn’t know where to begin as water collected on his lower lash line, and gently he pulled up his left sleeve. Godric, it felt like deva Vu all over again. 

“Y- Y/n.” Regulus called through his tears, “What’s wrong, baby?” Y/n asked, sitting beside him on the four-poster bed. 

Regulus couldn’t help the tears that helplessly fell down his cheeks. His eyes were silver and blurred. Cheeks flushed and hair knotted. This past summer had been a shit show for him with Sirius running away and just everything that had gone on. Regulus had never felt this hopeless before. 

“I- I need your help.”

“Of course, anything, baby.”

He swallowed, “Just know that I’ll love you forever. Okay?”

“‘Course.”

Gently, he released a breath of air and pulled up his left sleeve. The combined snake and skull only meaning one thing. Regulus was now a death eater to the Dark Lord. Tears sprung in Y/n’s eyes but not because of disappointment but because of worry. She didn’t know what she would do if Regulus were to be gone. 

“They forced me!” Regulus pleaded, “Please, please don’t leave me.” 

Regulus was weeping, and Y/n took him into her arms, “Shh, shh, I’m not disappointed. I’m just worried about you.”

“I don’t wanna- I don’t wanna do this.” Regulus whimpered, “Please help me.”

“I’m gonna help you ‘m love. Don’t worry.” 

“What happened this summer?” Y/n asked as Draco pulled back down his sleeve.

“Auntie Bella.”

Draco was trying so hard to swallow his tears as his Professor was now face to face with him, “Draco.”

How was her voice so sweet and calm, almost like she had done this before, “It’s okay to show emotion. It’s being human. Let it go, darling.”

Just like that, the dam broke, and Draco was a sobbing mess again. How was it that Professor Black had always managed to feel more like home than his actual parents? What had his mum done for him while Bellatrix was giving him the mark? She had just stood there watching pain contort on his face. Y/n felt more like a mother to him, more like family to him. 

“Shh. Shh. You’re safe here, Draco.”

“They- They want me-“ He was choking on his words, and Y/n placed her hands on his shoulders, “Take deep breaths and then explain. Okay?”

He began to inhale and exhale air at a slow pace, “They want me to-“ Draco swallowed, “They want me to kill Dumbledore.”

“Okay.” Y/n stated, letting out a breath of air, “You and I will get through this.” 

“You- You promise?” 

“I promise.”

Perhaps it was instinct now for Draco to stay after in her classroom. After every lesson, Draco would visit her in her classroom just to be in her company or to talk. What was it about Y/n that drew these people close to her? Ones with broken souls who believed that couldn’t be helped. Was it her kindness? Perhaps it was her caring nature—too many variables to pinpoint. 

The moment Y/n heard crying in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, she knew something was wrong. Approaching cautiously, she saw Harry Potter doing the same behind Draco, who stood facing the basin, dried tears on his cheeks. Everything happened too fast for Y/n to understand. But when Harry spoke an incantation that left Draco bleeding out on the floor, everything changed. 

She was jumping into action hastily, falling to her knees beside the blond-haired boy while Harry was almost in tears at his mistake. Y/n took her wand out and began muttering spells to heal the boy's chest. Harry was now in a heap on the floor, tears filling his glorious emerald eyes while the Professor took care of his harm. It took ten minutes before the bleeding stopped, and Y/n turned to face Harry. 

“Harry.” 

“‘M sorry. I- I didn’t know…”

“It’s okay. I’m just glad I was here.” Y/n replied, and Harry looked like a mess, “I need you to go to the Gryffindor tower and not speak of this to anyone, okay?”

He nodded and stood up sluggishly. Harry left the bathroom, leaving Y/n with an unconscious Draco. Sighing heavily, she picked up the boy and lugged him to the hospital wing, where he was taken care of. The following day an owl was pecking at Y/n’s window, leading her to wake up and take the note from the owl’s foot. 

“Draco won’t stop calling for you.”

Y/n freshened up, brushing her teeth, hair, and a change of clothes before making her way to the Hospital Wing. It was quite a ways away from. Her section of the school, but if Draco needed her, she needed to be there even if it was six o’clock in the morning. Her shoes made a light tap along with the wood as she walked and hesitantly opened the big door to the infirmary. 

“Oh, thank Merlin!” Madam Pomfrey said with her hand over her heart, “Draco has been asking for you, my dear.”

She gave a tiny smile as Pomfrey pointed to where Draco was lying. Carefully she stripped back some of the white curtain and pulled a chair beside his bed. Y/n took his hand in his. It was cold and pale. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine holding Regulus’ hand in the same exact way after a horrible Bludger accident. 

An hour later, Draco finally woke up, “Mornin’ sweetheart.”

“Professor, you- you came.”

She smiled, “You called for me, of course, I’d come.”

Draco pushed himself up into a sitting position, his grey eyes locked on her warm e/c ones, “Sorry, I just, didn’t expect you to come.”

“How are you feeling?” 

“I feel okay. Little sore but nothing I haven’t been through.” 

Y/n smiled sadly, “I knew a boy just like you, you know?”

“You did?” Draco asked, and she nodded, “I did.”

“Could you tell me about him?”

“Well, he was strong, smart, and closed off. His home life wasn’t too great either and was forced into being what his parents were too.” Draco looked eager for more, “Eventually, he realized that this wasn’t the life he wanted. He no longer cared about his parent's approval. He just wanted to be him, but by then, it was too late.”

“Too late?”

She nodded, “He was already in too late, so he did the only thing he thought of. Betraying his parents, his family. He was so caught up in what he was doing he didn’t realize what he was doing, and now, because of that, he’s no longer with us.”

“But you aren’t too late, Draco.” Y/n stressed, tightening her grip on his hand, “Let me save you. Let me help you.”

Tears ebbed at the corners of his eyes, “Please.”

Y/n took him in her arms and rubbed his back soothingly, “You aren’t alone. I’m here for you.”

It took months, but everything was over. It felt like time had stopped. Y/n could remember the terror standing outside of Hogwarts as the death eaters stood on the other side. Narcissa was calling for him - the boy who had no choice - and Draco was panicking as Lucius began calling his name. 

Draco swallowed and shook his head. 

It was the feeling of relief that brought Y/n solace. Draco took the step that Regulus took, and she would make sure he didn’t pay for it. The relief felt like a breath of fresh air now that the war was over. Y/n had stepped into the Great Hall panicking, hoping, praying that he was okay. At that moment she saw it. 

He was crouched in the corner. People were glaring at him all around. Draco saw. He saw the Weasleys crying over Fred. He saw Harry look empty, staring at Remus Lupin and Nymphadora. The way Lavender Brown’s parents sobbed over her dead body. He saw the way Dennis Creevey was yelling and screaming in pain at seeing his deceased older brother. Draco could remember how close they were. 

Nonetheless, he stood up and ran into her arms: his solace, home, and safe place. Draco couldn’t remember what it felt like to be held this tight. He dug his nose into her neck and just remembered to breathe. She pulled away to see a small smile playing on his lips. Y/n cupped his cheeks gently. 

“I’m so, so proud of you.” Y/n smiled, “I can't explain how proud I am of you. You did it.”

Draco smiled and leaned into her hands, “Thanks, mum.”

[waitimcomingtoo]

fine line - p.p

pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Synopsis: there’s a fine line between love and hate and you and Peter dance it on a regular basis

Series Masterlist and Regular Masterlist

When your dad told you he had recruited a boy your age to the Avengers, you felt a little flame of jealousy bubble inside you. Without any superpowers of your own, you were often left out of the heroic and dangerous missions the Avengers went on. Your dad did his best to include you by letting you help out in the lab and tag along on lowkey missions, but that all changed when Peter started coming around.

A lot of things changed when Peter started coming around.

The way he seemed to replace you, and so effortlessly at that, boiled into a deep resentment for the young hero. He was always there, occupying the spaces you once did, and you resented it. You resented him.

Just not as much as you resented the way he made your heart flutter when he looked at you.

~

“What are you guys doing?” You asked as you walked into the lab to see your dad. Peter was by his side, as he always was, making you roll your eyes. Peter smiled brightly at you as you sat down, and you gave him a tight lipped smile back.

“Hey, Princess.” Your dad greeted. “We’re adding back up back up jets in the butt of Rhodey’s suit in case the back up jets in his legs fail.”

“I call them the weapons of ass destruction.” Peter said gleefully as he held up the jets.

“Yeah, hilarious.” You said sarcastically and turned to your dad. “Um, daddy, I thought we were gonna do that.”

“Sorry sugar plum. I needed to get this done before the trip later and sticky fingers said I shouldn’t wake you.” Tony apologized to you and a familiar feeling of anger filled your tummy. This wasn’t the first time you’d found Peter doing something with your dad that you were originally supposed to do. It seemed like every plan you made, Peter weaseled his way in and took your place. You looked at Peter with narrowed eyes, to which he responded with a sympathetic smile.

“Did he now?” You said, just a little bitterly.

“Maybe you can help us next time. Did you sleep well?” Peter asked politely, and you just rolled your eyes.

“Did I sleep well? What are you, my Fitbit?” You snorted and looked away from him. Peter’s heart sank at yet another rejection from you, but he kept his mouth shut and continued working. Your eyes shifted back to him once he went back to his work, feeling a pang of guilt for being short with him.

“What trip are we going on later?” You directed your question only to your father, acting like Peter wasn’t there.

“Cap got a hit on where Bucky might be. We’re heading to Canada to check it out.” Your dad explained as he twisted a screwdriver.

“Okay. I’ll pack my stuff.” You got out of your chair and went to leave before you heard your dad sigh.

“Sorry Princess, but this is just gonna be an avengers thing.” He said with apologetic eyes. “We only have room in the jet for four and I promised Peter-“

“It’s fine.” You cut him off, not wanting to hear about Peter again. “I’ll just hang out with mom.”

“It’s really cold in Canada anyway. It’ll probably be a bad trip.” Peter offered to make you feel better.

“Yeah, thanks weather boy.” You teased and looked at your dad again. “Can we hang out tomorrow then?”

“Of course. Mall and a smoothie?” He asked, making you smile as he suggested your signature thing to do together.

“Mall and a smoothie.” You nodded, happy that he was finally making time for you. You rested your chin in your hands and watched them work, feeling slightly better now that you made plans with your dad that Peter couldn’t infiltrate.

~

You tripped over a cardboard box the next day, stumbling right into Peters arms as he caught you. You looked down and saw a bunch of boxes outside your old playroom, boxes with Peters handwriting on them.

“What is all this? You’re blocking the hallway.” You snipped at Peter as you stepped out of his arms.

“Sorry, Y/n. I’m almost done.” Peter apologized as he picked up another box. “Hey, I like your shirt.”

“Almost done with what?” You ignored his compliment, despite it making your face flush.

“Moving in. Mr. Stark gave me this room so I wouldn’t have to commute here everyday.” Peter explained. Your eyes widened up upon hearing this, not believing your dad would let Peter move in without asking you.

“You’re moving in?” You nearly yelled, making Peter clutch his box in fear that he did something wrong.

“Yeah.” Peter nodded. “Maybe we can hang out more now that-“

“Sorry, I’ll be right back.” You cut him off and rushed to the kitchen, finding your dad rummaging through the refrigerator.

“What are you doing?” You demanded.

“Making a smoothie. Want one?” He offered as he shut the refrigerator with his butt.

“No thank you.” You shook your head. “And I’m talking about Peter. Why did he tell me he’s moving in?”

“Oh, cause he is. Now, do I want straw-bana or kale-berry?” Your dad pondered as he tapped his chin.

“Why does he have to live here? He has a house.” You reminded him.

“He has an apartment smaller than the first dollhouse I bought you. Princess, he was basically living in a cardboard box and sleeping under newspapers.”

“This isn’t an dog pound, daddy. We can’t just take in strays.” You whined, wishing he could take your side for once.

“He’s not a stray. He’s my son.” Tony quipped as he booped your nose and crossed the kitchen. Your heart sank to your stomach at his words and you felt your face fall.

“No he…no he isn’t.” You sputtered in a weak voice.

“Cheer up, sour patch. Think of it this way, now you have a brother.” Tony shrugged and dropped some blueberries in the blender.

“I don’t want a brother. Our family is fine the way it is.” You insisted, feeling the jealousy come back in a wave when your dad called Peter his son.

“He’s a good kid, Princess.” Tony said in a tone that told you the conversation was over. “Give him a chance. He’ll surprise you. Hell, he surprised me.”

Before you could respond, Peter entered the kitchen with a happy smile.

“Hey Mr. Stark. Hi Y/n.” He waved at you and put some bowls in the cabinet.

“Yeah, hi Parker.” You said dismissively, wanting him to leave so you could finish talking to your dad.

“You ready?” Tony asked Peter as he poured the smoothie into two cups, handing one to Peter.

“Yep. I’ll see you in the theater.” Peter nodded as he clicked his glass against your dads.

“What are you guys doing?” You wondered, watching them interact with disgust.

“He’s got me hooked on this show about teenagers in a glee club. The writing is horrible, I love it.” Tony beamed as he took a sip form his cup.

“I thought we were gonna hang out today. You know, mall and a smoothie?” You reminded him, feeling a bubble of hurt that he didn’t remember.

“Oh, sorry buttercup.” Tony realized he forgot. “I promised Pete the treat I’d watch the show with him. Tomorrow?”

“Yeah, sure.” You nodded sadly as your dad cupped your chin and left the room.

“You could watch with us if you’d like. They sing a lot of the songs you like.” Peter extended an invitation to you when he saw your disappointment.

“Thanks for the sales pitch, but I’m good.” You mumbled at him and left the kitchen, missing the solemn look on Peters face as you went.

“She doesn’t like me.” Peter sighed, shaking his head as he looked down at his smoothie.

“No, she does not.” Tony laughed, cutting it short when Peter looked at him in dispare. “Oh, not funny. Don’t sweat it, kid. It took me a long time to like you too. She’ll come around.”

“Okay, good.” Peter nodded, content with the answer. “Wait, what?”

~

“FRIDAY, what’s my assignment?” You asked the screen outside the lab as you reported for your job the following day.

“Good morning, Y/n.” FRIDAY greeted. “Mr. Stark asks that you repair bullet holes in one of the suits.”

“Cool. Let me in.”

“Access granted.” FRIDAY chirped as the doors opened. You only got a few paces into the lab when you saw Peter sitting at a table, sighing in annoyance at the sight of him.

“Hello.” He said weakly, knowing you wouldn’t thrilled to see him.

“What are you doing in here?” You eyed him skeptically as you got some tools off a shelf.

“Not much at the moment.” Peter shrugged, trying to make a light hearted joke.

“Well you can’t stay. I have an assignment.” You told him, a little proudly at that. You were finally given a task after being idle for months.

“Actually, I have to stay.” Peter said, looking a little weary of you as you neared him.

“Why?”

“I am your assignment.” He grimaced, anticipating your reaction to be bad.

“You have bullet holes?” You folded your arms and eyed his body.

“Canadians aren’t as friendly as I thought.” Peter chuckled.

“Fine.” You rolled your eyes. “Where’s the suit?”

“Right here.” Peter pulled it out of his backpack. “Theres three of them. The holes are in the front. And the back. They sorta went through.”

“Went through?” Your eyes widened as you worried for him. “As in went through your body?”

“Canadians really aren’t as friendly as I thought.”

“You said that already.” You stated as you laid his suit out on the table.

“Sometimes jokes are funnier when you say them twice.” Peter explained, coming to stand by your side.

“I don’t need you to explain humor to me.” You grumbled as you began working on the holes.

“Feels like I do.” Peter muttered, adverting his eyes from you.

“Excuse me?” You snapped your head up to glare at him.

“Nothing.” He gave you an obviously fake smile. “Nothing at all.”

Doing your best to ignore him, you got back to your work. He was close enough that you could feel his breath in your neck, your elbows touching every-time you pulled on the thread.

“Is there a reason you’re hovering?” You said suddenly, losing your ability to focus with him that near.

“I just want to make sure you’re doing it correctly.” He shrugged, leaning down to check your work. Your jaw dropped a little, feeling offended that he didn’t have faith in your to do it correctly.

“So what, you think I can’t patch a bullet hole on my own?” You laughed shortly as you raised as eyebrow at him.

“Well I know the suit better than you do.” He said simply, taking pleasure in getting a rise out of you.

“I helped design it, Parker.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “I know it just as well.”

“Then you won’t mind me making sure of that.” Peter shot back, running his finger over the newly patched hole.

“Whatever.” You scoffed and went back to work. “Just because you’re my dads lab rat doesn’t mean you’re mine.”

“I didn’t say I was.” Peter leaned again, watching your work closely.

“And yet.” You looked up with a sarcastic smirk, your nose nearly touching his from how close he was. “Hovering.”

“Sorry.” Peter mumbled and took a step back.

“You said there were three holes. I only see two.” You realized as you held the suit up.

“That’s weird. I definitely got shot three times.” Peter tilted his head as he stared at it.

“Did you find three bullets?” You asked him, a rare moment of civility.

“No. Just two. Oh…” He trailed off when he realized where the third bullet was.

“Yeah. Oh.” You mocked him. “Take your shirt off.”

“What?” Peter furrowed his eyebrows at your request as you went to a different shelf in the lab.

“You can’t leave the bullet in there, you’ll get an infection.” You reminded him as you set medical supplies on the table. “Take your shirt off.”

Peter hesitantly pulled his shirt over his head once you turned around to disinfect the table. You turned around, needle in hand, and turned a deep red at the sight of him.

“Good.” You swallowed thickly. “Just leave it on the counter.”

“Are you trained to do this?” Peter worried as he folded his t shirt. You did your best to hold eye contact, but your eyes slipped every now and then.

“I’ve read about how to do it.” You said quietly, not trusting your voice to be steady.

“Have you ever done it before?” Peter wondered as he stared at the large needle.

“I’ve read about how to do it.” You repeated to avoid the question.

“See? You said the joke twice. That makes it funny.” He smiled smugly at you and you made a face.

“Shut up and get on the table.” You groaned and he complied, laying on his side to let you work. You rounded the table to work on his back where the exit wound was located.

“Oh good.” You commented as you rested a hand on his bare rib cage. “It’s right at the surface.”

“Okay. Try not to kill me while you’re back there.” Peter looked at you over his shoulder so you stuck your tongue out at him.

“I won’t.” You grumbled, hesitating a little as your stared at his wound. “Um, this is gonna hurt.”

You felt a moment of sympathy for him, knowing he was in for a lot of pain. His skin was hot, even under your surgical glove you could feel it. In a brief lack of judgment, you squeezed his arm to comfort him.

“I’m Spiderman. Nothing hurts - SON OF A BITCH.” Peter screamed as you pressed a hydrogen peroxide soaked gauze pad to his wound. You quickly took out the tweezer and fished out the bullet, all while Peter hissed in pain.

“Sorry sorry sorry.” You stammered and threw the bullet into a dish. “It’s out.”

“Oh my God. I feel like a pencil sharpener.” Peter whined as he rubbed his back near the area.

“Sit up. I’ll patch you up.” You said in a kinder tone then he was used to hearing.

“You don’t have to.” Peter looked at you as he sat up straight.

“Yes I do. You’re my assignment.” You shrugged, trying to portray that you couldn’t care less when in reality, you did. As much as he got under your skin, you didn’t want to see him hurt.

You poured more hydrogen peroxide on a gauze pad as you cleaned his wound, feeling his body retract at first contact.

“That’s cold.” He winced, twisting his body around to avoid the pad.

“It’s also gonna save your life.” You grumbled. “Hold still.”

“Ow.” Peter jolted when you applied numbing cream to the wounds. “Cold again.”

“Can you stop whining?” You yourself whines as you blew on his cuts.

“Can you be a little more gentle?” He retorted. “Just try to be nice to me for five minutes. It can’t be that hard.”

“I am nice to you.” You hissed as you started your sutures. “I sewed up your dumb suit and I’m cleaning your stupid cuts so you don’t get an infection in your dumb ass body. I am nice.”

“Said the joke twice.” Peter quipped, grinning at you over his shoulder to rub it in.

“Shut up.” You sneered. “Stop fidgeting.”

“You think I’m funny.” He said in a sing song voice. “That’s fine. I get it all the time.”

“Oh my God. Could you be anymore irritating?” You groaned as you put the last bandaid on his back. You walked around the table to patch the front, looking up at him shyly as his bare chest rose and fell.

“Easily.” He snickered. “Wanna see?”

“I’ve seen plenty, trust me.” You rolled your eyes, meaning more than one thing with your words. Peter smirked a little, able to heart your rapid heartbeat with his advanced hearing. You rested a hand in his shoulder as you cleaned his chest, the wounds in the front stinging less as they already began to heal. Peter watched you intently as you worked, admiring the way you bit your lip when you concentrated.

“You know, if you stopped acting like I was the devils spawn for a minute, you might actually like me. We’d get along.” He laughed softly, making you look up at him. Your eyes locked and for a moment, he saw kindness in them. It quickly retreated as your face hardened, looking down to avoid his gaze.”

“Thanks for the life advice but I think I’ll pass.” You replied sarcastically as you opened a bandage.

“Is there a reason you don’t like me?” Peter honestly wondered. “Is it something I did?”

“No.” You grumbled, feeling your face heat up in embarrassment. “Be quiet, I’m trying to concentrate.”

“Oh, I get it.” Peter nodded like he knew something you didn’t.

“You get what?” You took the bait, looked up at him in angry confusion.

“You like me.” Peter smirked, making your whole body ignite. Your face twisted in shock, followed by anger as you stumbled over the right words to say.

“What?” You sputtered. “What could possibly lead you to believe I like you?”

“That’s the most obvious answer.” Peter pretended to yawn, making you even angrier. “You’re mean to me because I you like me. Classic playground logic. It’s cute if you think about it.”

“I do not!” You stamped your foot, feeling frustrated that you couldn’t come up with a better argument. He had caught you red handed and you didn’t see a way out.

“Okay.” Peter’s voice was dripping with false innocence. “I believe you.”

“Listen Parker.” You growled, leaning your hands on either side him and gripping the table. “Let me make this clear, I do not, nor will I ever, like you. I don’t even tolerate you.” You shook your head slowly while holding his gaze. “I don’t want you here, okay? My life was a whole lot better before you came around and ruined it. If it were up to me, you’d be thrown out on your ass before lunch. I do not like you.”

“And yet,” Peter leaned forward, tilting his head a little, “your heartbeat says something entirely different. You know what they say, there’s a fine line between love and hate.”

“You’re all done.” You ripped off your gloves with a loud snap. “Put your shirt back on.”

Peter smirked as he tugged his shirt over his head, loving the angry flush he left on your face. You gave him one last glare before storming out of the lab, your footsteps echoing loudly as you went.

“See you later!” Peter called cheerfully, laughing when you let out an angry huff.

 To be continued…

@awesomebooklover17 @thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling @weirdr-artiest @serendipitous-amor @dummiesshort @foreverxholland @lavender-writer @captainmandeestudent17 @whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings @ultrunning @imyourliquor-youremypoison @theolwebshooter @andreasworlsboring101 @guksmyfav @waiting-to-be-myself @letsloveimagines @peterparkoure @a-villain-vying-for-attention @justcallmehitgirl @averyfosterthoughts @jackiehollanderr @tiny-friggin-human @mara-twins @iamaunicorn4704 @the-crazy-fanfictionist @maryjanee23 @geeksareunique @emmamarshmellow @jillanaholland @unbelievableholland @rebekkah4766 @flixndchill @sovereignparker  @thisisthebiplace @spideydobrik @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @caelestii-e @eridanuswave @itscaminow @fiantomartell @solarxmoonchild @where-art-thau-romeo @canyouevencauseicant @illwritetomorrow @thehappygrungelife @saysomethingspiderman @parkerboop @smilexcaptainx @hes-amarillo @quaksonhehe @kelieah @kickingn-ames @purefluffykiwi @seasidecrowbar @lovelessdagger @love-sick-blues @electraheart-3174 @lou-la-lou @unbelievableholland @yourtypicalhotmess @spideyanakin @horanxholland @thesuitelifeofafangirl @anapocalypseinmymind  @marshxx @heyheycharlatte @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie @tomshufflepuff @cookiemonstermusic258 @maybemona @young-romanoff @alexxcorona113 @spidey-reids-2003 @lethal-wisdom @xo-spidey @im-still-tryin-to-find-it @big-galaxy-chaos @pandaxnienke​ @spideydreamers​ @parkerpeter24​

[notkageyamasprincess]

embarrassing things about them | pt. iv

nekoma

genre/warnings: basically you should stop reading if you don’t want to see me slander your faves. crack!1! & like minimal fluff

kuroo tetsurō

genuinely believes he’s a really good singer but he’s really not

you went to a karaoke bar for your third date since you both loved singing

also karaoke bars are conveniently dim so 😳

he queued his song, took a deep breath, and opened his mouth. you were speechless

he sounded like ice jj fish if you were wondering

“kuroo... what the fuck”

“i know, i’m pretty good right?” “uhm no-”

kai nobuyuki

a guy who pays attention to his health

but a worrywart over small things

his search history is all stuff like “sharp pain in my right side what does this mean” “left foot numb in the middle of the night” “saw a tiny dark spot in corner of my vision am i going to be okay”

tummy hurts a bit too much for a bit too long

he just ends up scaring himself because he always ends up on those sketchy medical sites that tell him he has cancer or some kind of horrible illness

please reassure him 🥺

yaku morisuke

he was 14, felt fresh asf coming home bc! this boy! was single no more! nice!

but he didn’t know how to kiss and he really wanted to impress them

you bet he practiced kissing on his arm

alone in his room ofc. well, until his dad barged in

“hey son, could you-”

he whipped around and shamefully removed his lips from his forearm

his dad?? just?? quietly closed the door?

yamamoto taketora

he’s definitely a fanboy for those girl idol groups (like tōdō from jjk)

he somehow acquired a life sized cardboard cutout of his fave

he keeps her hidden away in his closet bc there’s no way he can leave her out in the open

it gave his mom a FRIGHT when she went in to clean his room omgomgomg

i feel like it warranted a family meeting 💀

kozume kenma

i hc that he probably gets his hair done at a salon (sksj omg can you imagine his cute lil butt sitting in the chair w the cape around him)

anyways his regular guy was on vacation and he desperately needed an appointment

so he decided to pick up a box of hair dye and tried to diy bad decision very bad

he didn’t really know what brand was good or what shade so he just randomly got the first blond colour from a really sus brand but he didn’t know that 😭

listen. he accidentally dyed his hair NEON YELLOW.

highlighter lookin’ ass

he didn’t know wtf to do next and school was hell the next day bc no hats allowed

fukunaga shōhei

so you know how he says little jokes to himself and laughs??

his classmates were like “oi fukunaga, how come you’re always laughing, what’s so funny?”

and shō was real excited to tell his jokes

NO ONE LAUGHED. NOT ONE SOUL. IT WAS AWKWARD. 😐

the only one rolling on the ground in tears was himself

(this is kinda sad i need to compensate bc i lob him)

but years down the line, you ended up sharing his weird humour so he knew you were the one <3

inuoka sō

he’s always hyper and cheerful and loves to help people out!!

so when he was walking in the streets and saw a girl with her hands full drop something, he had to go in there!

he went in there. quite literally. her skirt i mean.

when he crouched down to pick up what she dropped, his head caught onto the hem of her skirt and when he lifted his head back up......

it was an honest mistake!! baby boy would never!! really tragic how it happened really omg please he’s not a pervert please don’t call the cops he’s already so embarrassed

haiba lev

so we all know he’s really tall

and if you’ve ever been to japan, well, it’s not the friendliest place for lanky bean poles like him

especially doorways of trains/subways. doorways in general

bumps his head in front of people so much

sometimes really hard too how does he not get concussions???

sometimes gets a big bump on his forehead before he even arrives at school

is that why he’s such a dumb dumb?

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv

taglist: @sparkykatsuki

[yumeka36]

Paws on my heart

I don’t often feel the need to write personal posts like this, but the time comes every now and then. Today I had to euthanize my sweet kitty Taro. We got him a little over two years ago from a lady who rescues cats. From what she told us, he’d been abandoned after his elderly owner passed away and he was practically starved to death (he may have also been abused by the owner’s son who supposedly threw out all her cats). We didn’t know how long he’d last due to his age (he seemed to be about fifteen years old when we got him) but we decided to try and give him the best life possible in what little time he had left….and for two years, he flourished. After we treated him early on for a bad ear infection (he was deaf, not sure if the infection caused it), he had as much energy as a senior cat could have. He would jump up and down from the bed and the chair, yowl at the outside cats through the screen door, get plenty of lap-sitting time, played in cardboard boxes (his favorite), and he’d even occasionally run around the house with random spurts of energy. He would always get excited when I came home from work and would meow at me, demanding I sit in the chair so he could lay in my lap. He was also very well behaved and never hissed, scratched, or bit. He would let me trim his nails, brush his fur, and clean his ears (he actually enjoyed the latter two). Since he was deaf, I found that I could point to things or wave to him and he would follow. He was a big time rubber too and would rub his head all over my head, hand, shoulder, the corner of the table, whatever he could get a hold of. He would do other silly things too like lay on my back when I’d lie on my stomach on my bed, open the kitchen cabinets for no apparent reason, and explore my room closet whenever I’d open it.

Everything was fine with him until just a couple weeks ago when he got sick very suddenly. His hind legs had always been a little weak but it never stopped him from doing normal activities. We figured it was due to his old age and the fact that he was so malnourished before we adopted him. But all of a sudden, in just a few days’ time, his legs got weaker and weaker, to the point where he couldn’t even walk. He started eating less and less and would only drink a little milk and cat food gravy if we held it right under his mouth (since he couldn’t walk to his bowls). I wish I knew why he suddenly declined so fast…he doesn’t go outside so did he have an accident and hurt himself in the house and we didn’t know about it? Or did underlying ailments from before we adopted him suddenly catch up with him? After the vet examined him on Tuesday, we found out that he had severe back pain that carried into his legs. His options were limited due to his age so she gave him a steroid shot, fluids, and prescribed pain and anti-inflammatory medicine. I started getting hopeful that he’d feel better and live a bit longer with all this treatment. But unfortunately my hopes were immediately dashed when he showed no improvement. Even after a few doses of the medicine and shot, he was still in pain and couldn’t walk, and he stopped eating and drinking completely. He just spent all day laying in his cat bed and would only leave to painfully hobble over to the litter box if he could make it, or would just pee on the floor if he couldn’t. It was horrible watching him attempt to poop only to fail and then collapse a few seconds later because it was too exhausting to hold himself up. Even when we tried to pick him up, if he wasn’t in the right position he would cry out in pain. It was so sad seeing him look longingly at food or the bed, being so confused about why he couldn’t do the things he used to. Since he was so old, we couldn’t put him through surgeries, hospital stays, and major testing. Although he still seemed alert and slightly enjoyed pets and belly rubs, he was slowly starving to death and couldn’t move without pain…his quality of life was no good, so we had to make the decision to euthanize him.

I’ve had lots of loving cats put down in my life. I’m trying to understand why this one is making me especially sad. I think it’s because for all of my other cats, I had them for a much longer length of time, and also, I had many other cats at the same time, so even when one passed away there were others left to fill the void. The only exception was Toki, the cat we had before Taro, but the difference with her was that we had her for a long sixteen years, and her decline was much slower. Not only did we have Taro for a short two years and three months, but his decline came out of nowhere; for the whole time we had him it was like he was getting younger each day, and then aged rapidly in just a couple weeks. And also, he was more “my” cat. Toki loved both of us but favored my mom a bit more, while Taro favored me. The loving looks he would give me, the constant meowing to try and communicate with me despite being deaf, the boisterous purring as I’d pet him on my lap, having him by my side as I conquered my favorite video games (and when I had emotional outbursts while playing, the way he’d look at me like I was crazy)…these will be terribly missed. Plus he enjoyed my collecting hobby and was always curious about new merch I bought, especially my Frozen stuff and Pokemon plushies.

This past week has been awful – I’ve felt like I’ve been attending a funeral every day. It was hard holding back bouts of tears at work, and will be hard next week knowing that I won’t have his love to look forward to when I come home each day. This heavy sorrow has got me thinking deeply about how this one cat’s life, one tiny little life among the billions of animal and human lives that come and go throughout this big, wide world, has made such an emotional impact on me. It was so short in the scheme of things, but brought me so much love and joy, and now so much sadness. I guess that’s what makes life so painful but so wonderful. And like many other great joys and great sorrows we experience in life, once it’s over it all starts to feel like a dream when enough time goes by, and the intensity of both the happiness and the pain will fade. So I know the grief I’m feeling now will fade in time, but I’ll try my best to hang onto the joy and keep in mind that there are tons of loving cats out there waiting to become part of my life in the years to come. When I eventually have to lose them too, I know I’ll experience this pain again, but having a few weeks of sadness in exchange for the years of love and joy they give is still a very good deal.

*Crossposted from my main blog, Yume Dimension*

[theladyofdeath]

Perfect

12 Days of Christmas in July {day 5}.

Chaol + Yrene

Written alongside my soulmate, @throne-of-ashes-and-beauty

Chaol was miserable.

He was in the middle of a thousand people, all of whom wanted the same toy as they did. He and Yrene had left right after breakfast and gotten to the mall as soon as it opened...only to be met alongside hundreds of other needy parents.

“Is this necessary?” He mumbled under his breath, unsure if his wife could even hear him.

Yrene’s eyes quickly snapped to his. “This is our first Christmas as a family. It’s going to be perfect.”

He fought the urge to roll his eyes, knowing that would only get him in deeper shit.

“Taylon isn’t even one yet, do you really think he’s going to remember whether or not we got him the-.”

Yrene looked over at him again and he shut right up.

She leaned in and whispered, “The woman behind us brought a map — a map, Chaol! This is clearly not her first time doing this. The family in front of us? They have a list of coordinates. We are severely outmatched here and if these people smell our fear, they’re going to eat us alive!”

Chaol just shook his head, suppressing his laughter. When Yrene put her heart and mind into something, it was all or nothing. It was one of the many reasons why he had fallen in love with her.

“Alright, as you wish,” he said, and Yrene grinned in satisfaction. 

The doors were about to open and the crowd began to hum with excitement. They were going to go in, get what Yrene wanted, and get the hell out of there as soon as possible.

Except for the toy that Yrene wanted to get for Taylon? Every other set of parents was there to get it, too.

“What happens if we get separated?” Chaol joked.

As Yrene pursed her lips, he could see that she was taking his question seriously. “Probably should meet up at the restrooms or something.”

“Baby,” he chuckled, holding her hand in his. “Calm down. It’s Black Friday shopping, not a war zone.”

He had no idea how wrong he was…

The doors of the mall were unlocked and Yrene grabbed Chaol’s hand to drag him through the chaos. People were bumping into him every other second, and he felt horrible for all the toes he ended up stepping on. 

The mall was already fully decorated for the Christmas holiday even though twenty-four hours had not yet passed since they’d eaten their thanksgiving dinner.

Chaol instantly felt sorry for all the poor souls that had to work at the mall on Black Friday. 

Front and center was the animatronic teddy bear that was the “hot toy” of the year. He had to admit, it was pretty cute — until it started talking to you.

Regardless, this was the must have toy and his darling wife had made it clear that they must have it.

There were close to 500 boxes piled up in a pyramid and Chaol let out a breath of relief. This wouldn’t be so bad. They could grab the bear, hit the register and be back home before Taylon even woke up.

And then, in the blink of an eye, the pyramid was gone.

“Shit!” Yrene called and her hand was ripped from his as she ran towards the crowd of people gathered around the display.

Chaol watched, half in horror half in awe, as Yrene hurried toward the pile, reaching for a box. Perhaps he should have been the one to go in, but she was quicker, smaller, and far more adamant. If it were up to Chaol, they would’ve gone shopping the week before Christmas to get toys that didn’t cost nearly a hundred dollars.

Yrene was lost among the sea of parents, so Chaol made his move, weaving in and out of the crowd. He finally spotted her pulling and tugging on a box.

Except she wasn’t the only one pulling and tugging. A woman with blonde hair, nearly the same size as Yrene, was tugging on the other end.

“I don’t give a shit if you had it first, I need this toy!” the blonde woman yelled.

Chaol quickly moved in as Yrene was losing her grip. He stepped closer and winked at the blonde woman. “Need some help, ma’am?”

“Please,” she said, sighing. “I have to have this. It’s a collectible.”

His hands closed around the box and both he and the woman pulled the box from Yrene’s hands.

With ease, he took the box from her and it was then in his own hands and under his arm. “She did have it first. Happy shopping,” he said, walking away.

With a smirk and a vulgar gesture, Yrene followed him.

They hurried to the registers and, to further Chaol’s dismay, the line was forever long. It wrapped around the edge of the store and by the time they found the end, Chaol was wishing it was manly and socially acceptable to publicly throw a hissy fit.

Yrene, however, was beaming. She had gotten what she had come for, and Chaol decided that was all that mattered.

Yrene and Taylon were all that mattered. If they were happy, Chaol was too...shopping mall chaos and all.

_____

“Is he asleep?” 

Chaol nodded, joining her beneath the lit Christmas tree. He pressed a kiss to Yrene’s forehead before grabbing the tape to help her wrap Taylon’s gifts. It was Christmas Eve, and although there was no way their infant would remember his first Christmas, they did all the traditions.

They made sugar cookies in different holiday shapes, decorating them with icing and sprinkles. They put them on the coffee table with a tall glass of milk, ready for Santa. And to please his reindeer, they also put out a few carrots.

“Do you think he’s going to like it?”

Chaol looked up at Yrene. She was touching an ornament, painted with Taylon’s handprint.

“Like what, love?” He asked, finishing the wrapping on one present and stacking it on top of another. For being less than a year old, he was definitely going to have more presents than some adults.

“His presents,” she said, looking around. “The tree and the decorations. Christmas as a whole.”

He moved the box he had just set in front of him to the side and grabbed Yrene’s wrist, tugging slightly.

“Come here,” he breathed.

She climbed on top of his lap, straddling his waist. 

“He’s going to love it,” Chaol smiled, pressing his lips to hers. “Promise.”

She wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, just holding him. He ran a soothing hand up and down her back.

“Keep doing that and you’re going to put me to sleep,” she said, drowsily.

“That’s the plan, baby,” he laughed.

“What?” She asked, sitting back and looking at him. “No, there’s too much to do and -.”

“And I can handle it,” he said, finishing her sentence and kissing her. “You’ve already done enough. Go to bed, my love.”

After some more persuasion from Chaol, including a few promises regarding his arrival in bed, Yrene relented and pressed a kiss to her husband’s lips before heading up the stairs.

Not long after Chaol followed, stopping in to check on Taylon, who was sound asleep in his crib.

The next morning, Chaol fulfilled one of his promises to Yrene, and when he went to wake up their son, his hair was noticeably more messy. Good thing there was no one but a baby to judge him.

Yrene was still laying in bed when Chaol came back with Taylon, babbling and bouncing in his father’s arms.

“There’s my handsome baby boy,” she crooned, sitting up. Chaol handed him to her and she kissed all over his face. “Merry Christmas, my sweet boy. Merry Christmas.”

He squealed in delight from the attention.

The snow had already begun to fall, the hot chocolate already steaming and sitting on the kitchen counter.

“We have to go see if Santa came,” Yrene said, smile wide and she talked to her little man. “Yes we do.”

Chaol watched them walk down the staircase in front of him, admiring his wife who was wearing one of his old teeshirts. Taylon went wide eyed when he saw the colorful display of wrapped boxes in front of the lit up Christmas tree. The minute Yrene set him on the rug, he was crawling toward them all.

“Looks like Santa ate all the cookies,” Yrene mused.

Chaol cleared his throat. “Yes, and he thought they were delicious.”

“And the carrots?” She asked, raising an eyebrow and glancing at the plate. All four baby carrots remained.

Chaol ducked his head and went to intercept a curious Taylon as he reached to put a Christmas light in his mouth. “Reindeers weren’t hungry. Let’s open presents!”

Yrene only laughed as she sat down on the floor and took Taylon from Chaol.

One by one, Chaol removed the wrapping paper he so meticulously put on the night before. But each time Taylon’s eyes lit up or his squeal of delight filled the house, he knew it was completely worth the little sleep he got.

When there was only one present left, Yrene said, “Let me open this one for him.”

Chaol rolled his eyes, knowing full well which present was left. He slid the package across the floor and took his son from her outstretched hands.

Yrene helped Taylon opened the gift, the bear in which they had waited hours for and wrestled away from another mom.

Once it was opened, Taylor hit the bear’s nose a few times before crawling off Chaol’s lap and picking up a cardboard book about dinosaurs. 

Yrene blinked, staring at the bear with her mouth hanging open. Chaol had to fight the laughter that was bubbling up in his throat.

“He…” Yrene hesitated. “Taylon, look at this bear! It talks! It sings! You can name it whatever you want! See the bear?”

Taylon was babbling to himself, hitting his new book against a plush soccer ball he’d also gotten.

Chaol, unable to stop himself, burst out laughing, ending up on his back and clutching his side.

“I can’t believe this,” Yrene said, lip slightly pouting. “I punched an old man for this thing and he doesn’t even care about it.”

Chaol blinked, sitting up. “You did what now?”

She sighed. “Okay, so I didn’t punch him, but I did aggressively shove him. But regardless, he doesn’t even care! He’s more concerned with trying to make dinosaurs play soccer!” She watched him, Chaol keeping an eye on her, and he watched as her face softened. “But he’s happy. He’s happy and that’s all that matters.”

It was moments like these that Chaol couldn’t believe how lucky he was, how amazing his life really ended up.

Taylon let out a sweet, high pitched giggle as the ball rolled away toward Chaol, who picked it up with a smile and rolled it back to his son. 

“I think he’s having a great Christmas, babe,” Chaol said, smiling at his wife. 

Yrene’s grin widened as she leaned over and kissed her husband, then her son. “He is. So am I. It’s perfect.”

“You don’t want one more gift?” Chaol asked with a smile.

“Didn’t you already give me one this morning?” Yrene was blushing, but Chaol could see a glint in her eye.

Chaol laughed, shaking his head. “Not exactly what I meant, but nice to know where your heads still at this morning.” He stood, turning to walk in the kitchen.

She called after him, “Still thinking about where your head was earlier.”

He threw his head back and laughed, retrieving the small silver box from under the cabinet.

“I’m reminded every day of the many reasons that I love you,” he said, keeping his hand behind his back as he walked back into the living room. “And one of those reasons is your humor.”

“And some others?” Yrene asked, crawling into his lap as he sat down.

“Your beauty,” he said, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “You’re the most brilliant person that I know.” He kissed the other cheek. “You’re the best mother to our son.” A kiss to her nose. “And you’ve got a fine ass.”

“Chaol!” Yrene laughed, swatting at his chest.

He leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. He lifted his hand to reveal the box. “Merry Christmas, baby.”

Yrene’s eyes went wide. She sat up and straddled his waist. “Baby, we said no gifts this year.”

He smirked. “Yeah, I’ve never been good at following directions.”

It wasn’t wrapped, the filigree along the top of the antique silver box decoration enough. Yrene skimmed her thumb along the lid, before opening it.

“Chaol,” she breathed. “It’s beautiful.”

It was. The sapphire in the middle of the Art Deco style ring was sparkling, shining in the colorful lights of the tree.

She slipped it onto her finger, her eyes lined with silver as she admired it. “Thank you so much.”

His lips pressed against her forehead, then her nose, and her lips.

Taylon quickly crawled over and tried to grab the ring, causing Yrene to fall into a fit of giggles.

This was it, their first Christmas as a family of three.

All Yrene wanted was for it to be perfect, for it to be a day that they would remember for the rest of their lives. And it was just that.

Perfect. 

[lovelyirony]

Ironwidow fake dating and cousin Sharon matchmaking

Nat and Tony have been friends since seventh grade, when Tony made fun of her drawing and in retaliation, Nat stuck a pencil in his thigh. 

He grinned at her after sneakily getting a tissue from the front desk. 

“You’re pretty good, Nat.” 

“My name is Natasha.” 

“Not to me, it’s not.” 

So it becomes Nat and Tony. Tony and Nat. They do everything together, from attend the eighth grade pool parties and hate all of them to the freshman orientation in high school where they make fun of the senior leaders and sneak into the admissions office to make sure they have at least one class together. (And then change the schedule when they don’t.) 

Tony has been in love with Natasha Romanoff since the first eighth grade pool party, when she showed up in a full wet suit because she didn’t like the way that their classmate Ivan liked her. 

But, he hasn’t done anything about it. Why is that, everyone asks? Just ask her out! 

Well, Tony has a special talent that is medically known as “anxiety,” but he also has common sense. 

Natasha Romanoff is beautiful. She has gorgeous red hair, eyes that know everything about you before you even think they do, a wicked sense of humor, and a sense of self that is beyond anything Tony’s ever encountered. 

Tony stays up until three a.m., doesn’t give a shit about his appearance so he is frequently rushing to school with the worst bed hair imaginable, and also wears possibly the most out-of-style clothing ever. 

Like right now. A pair of jeans that’s too short and he cuffed only on one leg, a shirt that’s advertising some college Howard made him visit, and he’s pretty sure that the plaid he layered it with has a coffee stain down the back. 

He’s proven right when Sharon wrinkles her nose. 

“Dude, you seriously haven’t done laundry since two weeks ago, have you?” 

“Do I smell bad? Do I?” 

She leans in. 

“No, just like old coffee. So regular. We’ll see when Nat comes. Or you could confess your love to have her not roast your choice of apparel.” 

Tony scowls, adjusting his backpack. 

“Do you have another topic, or are you just that boring?” 

“I could also tell you about World War One,” Sharon adds. “I just read about it in one of those stupid textbooks I have to carry around. Did you know that the French are actually the worst at war?” 

“Yes, everyone knows that. I think they know that too.” 

Nat’s already at her locker. She looks gorgeous with her jean jacket, the new patches sewn on. 

“Looking cute,” Sharon says appreciatively. “Do you think you’re gonna get dress-coded for the ‘fuck men’ patch?” 

“Not if they want me to write an article on how the club fund got cut but the football team got another new field within four years,” Nat says. 

“Still a good article,” Tony says. “If you could still get into a college without a reputation ruined. You know how much schools care about sports.” 

“More than education at times!” Sharon cheers. 

Nat snorts, bringing Tony into a hug. 

“Nice to see you, dude. Ready for history?” 

“Not in the slightest. We’re probably talking about government procedure again while our teacher waxes poetic about the justice system. I think I might try to change the FDA’s home screen again.” 

“You know, they might catch on after the fourth time of you inserting random YouTube videos to different links.” 

“It’s the Federal Department of Agriculture, I highly doubt they care,” Tony says, rolling his eyes. “Besides, I’ve already proven that I’m probably better with technology than the government itself.” 

This was true; Tony had hacked into the official website of the White House with shitty hotel Wi-Fi and half his sanity. (It was flu season, he’d had way too much Ny-Quil.) 

School passes by with little incident, all things considered. A classic Monday, with the only real excitement being an announcement of no school the following Monday for a staff meeting. 

It isn’t until Tony gets home to find both of his parents home and in the same room, waiting for him, that he starts to panic. 

“Is this an intervention?” Tony asks. “Did I do something bad?” 

“Not yet,” Howard says. “Although I wouldn’t be surprised.” 

“Dear,” Maria reprimands. “No, there’s an event that we want you to attend.” 

“Want or need?” Tony asks. “I was supposed to hang out with my friend Bruce to work on his genetics lab.” 

“I’m sure the lab can wait,” Howard scoffs. “You’re in high school, for god’s sake.” 

“Bruce is doing lab work for Culver,” Tony says. “He got early acceptance, so he’s doing a weird deal so he gets college credit and a year off early.” 

“Impressive, dear,” mom says, smiling. “But this event is something that you can’t miss.” 

It’s a goddamn family reunion. Maria’s side, but still. At least Peggy and Sharon would come. 

Family reunions on the Carter/Carbonell side are…interesting. A lot of loud people, aunts that couldn’t stop cooking, and at least one uncle that would say something marginally horrible and cause a rift for at least six hours where everything was tense. 

Sharon had to take this advantage carefully. 

So she got her own email into the family chain of them–a mistake by all accounts, but one that should be committed sooner rather than later–and tells the family that Tony is bringing his girlfriend, Natasha. 

They both love each other, she knows that much. Tony looks at Nat like he could give her anything in the world, and Nat looks at him with so much vulnerability that she always says she doesn’t have. 

They’ve liked each other for a while now. Sharon wishes that it wasn’t at her family reunion that she was doing this, but it was either that or a dance for high school, and that’s far too much work. 

Tony, understandably, is stressed. 

“Does she even know she’s going?!” Tony yells. “Holy shit Sharon, she’s going to meet like eighty of us!” 

“Yeah,” Sharon says. “She just doesn’t know that she’s supposed to be your girlfriend.” 

“Sharon.” 

“Yes?” 

“Run.” 

Sharon squeals as she skids out of the room, Tony chasing after her. He’s not really going to do anything about it, but he still has to text Nat. 

i am. so sorry 

lmao it’s fine. sharon just said i’m going to the reunion. why? 

funny story…

fuck what’d she do 

she emailed everyone that i was bringing you as a girlfriend. and i’m not really going to spend the whole weekend correcting it. 

gotcha. operation: fake dating commence! 

thank you nat. seriously love you 

Nat reads the message, but doesn’t respond. Of course Sharon would pull something like this. She knew that Nat liked her cousin, probably since they were kids. 

And now she had to pretend to be his girlfriend, something she actually wanted very much to do. 

She gets a text from Sharon. 

Please don’t wear your jean jacket with all the patches. It’s very cool, but you will start a fight in my family and win. But then you aren’t allowed to come back :( 

Natasha sends her back the middle finger, but then promises not to bring it.

This brings up the subject; what do you wear to a family reunion? 

- 

Tony’s fidgeting in the car as he goes to pick up Nat. His mother was very surprised. 

“You got your father’s distinct habit of not shutting your mouth,” she says with a chuckle. “But I do suppose the gazes say it all. Every Carbonell man looks like he’s in love before he says it, so–” 

“Mama, not now!” Tony hisses. Natasha’s making her way to the car, backpack slung around her shoulder and an elegant handbag in the crook of her arm. 

“Hey Ms. Carbonell,” Natasha says. “How are you?” 

“Doing good, better now that I get to have you with us,” she teases. “Anthony over here never told me that he was going to have you on as a special guest.” Natasha sends a raised eyebrow over to Tony. 

“Oh?” 

“I forgot,” Tony lied smoothly. “You know how I get in the labs. Just completely forget everything I’m supposed to remember.” 

The conversation is easy after that: just a few little anecdotes that Nat and Tony have gone over last night over the phone. They had confessed that they liked each other a year ago, had kept it extremely low-key since both didn’t want to fuss with it, and that was that. 

“How come Sharon knew but I didn’t?” Mom pouts. 

“She’s an imp,” Tony answers. “An imp who doesn’t know how to keep business to herself.” 

Their family fills up a small inn out of the way, and Tony sighs as he sees three of his aunts already conspiring at the bar. 

“Be prepared for a barrage of questions.” 

“Roger that.” 

Natasha is whisked away by the ladies with a few compliments to the cute flats she’s wearing and her favorite type of perfume. Tony gets led over to Sharon, who is playing darts with Trip and their kind-of-but-not-really-cousin, Ricardo. 

“What have I missed out on?” Trip asks, grinning. “Heard some girl was crazy enough to come and date you. She’s a looker, Tony.” 

“Thanks,” Tony says. “But yes, crazy enough to date me. Sharon knows how crazy it is, I practically get the same gene from her.” 

Sharon rolls her eyes, landing another bullseye. Ricardo curses. 

“How do you always manage to do this?” 

“Practice for this exact moment,” Sharon says with a grin. “Go get me a drink. One of the good ones.” 

“You seriously get him to do your bidding every single time,” Tony says with a laugh. Trip excuses him to see Uncle Erik, leaving Sharon and Tony alone. 

“So. You liking your new status of boyfriend?” 

“You seriously need to stop meddling,” Tony scowls. “Just because I like her doesn’t mean she should be in on this.” 

“She doesn’t mind,” Sharon scoffs. “Besides, I think Aunt Angie is going to tell her about the cardboard incident.” 

“Oh my god–” 

Natasha saunters over, grinning devilishly. 

“So. Naked and a cardboard box for modesty? Why am I not surprised at the innovation, Tony?” 

“Dammit,” Tony swears. “I’m going to learn something embarrassing about you. I’ll ask Clint.” 

“Like he’ll tell.” 

The reunion goes about as well as expected. Uncle Daniel finally spills the beans and says that his son who couldn’t make it was going to bring his girlfriend that no one likes, but they canceled at the last minute. 

“They’re horrible,” Tony says. “I’m serious. They’re the kind of people that take advantage of old people.” 

“Gross.” 

They gravitate closer to each other. While Natasha doesn’t have a problem with this, it’s bittersweet. Every time Tony casually puts his arm around her and tells another story about how they snuck into the office to match schedules and his family coos and says it’s so cute, and Sharon smiles at them. 

It stings, to be this close and yet knowing that it isn’t at all real. 

Tony lies awake at night. Becuase this is nice. All of his family loves Nat, so does he, and it seems…possible almost. To have her this close, smiling at him like she has. 

So it’s not a good idea, but he goes to her room at three a.m. She’s still awake. 

“Why are you still awake?” 

“Watching funny videos. Why are you awake?” 

“That’s why I’m here. Follow me.” 

They go into the courtyard. It feels…nice outside. Tony’s wringing his hands. 

“What’s got you so nervous?” Natasha asks. “And why at three in the morning?” 

“I think this is literally the only way I could do it,” Tony says. “Only time my family shuts up.” 

“Go for it then,” Natasha says. “You have until four, when your baby cousin wakes up. Lorenzo?” 

“Got it,” Tony says, smiling. “Um, well, I–” 

“What?” 

“Oh fuck,” Tony curses. “Listen, I’m just going to say it. I’m just going to say it.” 

“You’ve said that twice.” 

“Iloveyou.” 

“What?” 

“I…I love you,” Tony says, sighing. “I’ve loved you I think since eighth grade, and I’m now telling you because I don’t think I can just go on with life without telling you. I also realize that you’re stuck at the family reunion until this is over, so now I realize I’ve put stress on you and I’m sorry, I can fake my death if you really want me to, so–” 

Natasha envelops him in a hug. She kisses his cheek, looking at him in the dim light of the lanterns. 

“You absolute fool. I love you too.” 

It’s the first of many “I love you’s.” 

Sharon takes credit for the relationship, and Tony and Nat let her. She’s also the maid of honor and meets her future wife, Maria. 

Tony and Natasha don’t go to the same college, but compete against each other in the trivia clubs that both schools have, and so they spend other time together. Natasha shows him her favorite tea shop downtown, and Tony shows her all of the hideaway spots he uses for studies. 

(And to hide her away from Rhodey, who will tell her anything and everything that’s embarrassing about Tony.) 

Right after college, Tony and Nat move into an apartment. 

About a year later, Natasha holds out a gold ring for him to put on, asks if they really have to get married in a fancy church, and watches as Tony tears up and hugs her. 

“I told you!” Sharon crows when they reveal the rings. “I told you that you would get married!” 

“Okay loser,” Natasha says. “Then you’re the maid-of-honor. Congrats on throwing my bachelorette party.” 

“I’m making us go paint-balling.” 

Tony rolls his eyes, but looks at his now-fiancee. 

Things will be good. Aren’t they always? 

[kariachi]

Okay y’all, second episode for the day.

Cosplay Day

Oh, look, a Kelly Turnbull episode. That bodes very well.

‘Cos-Con Cosplay Con’ the fuck

Costume-Cosplaying Convention Costume Contest

These announcers need to take a vacation or something

Ben, sweetie, the fuck is that costume? Is a cardboard box with Christmas lights.

And he gets voted off instantly

...how is the Forever Dipshit a popular source of inspiration? How do they even know about him, did he go about his day-to-day life in that outfit? Attend board meetings? PR events? Did he got to the annual bbq in full plate?

...they know about him because Kevin put up a fucking video including him on his youtube channel way back when.

Also the video has FD asking Kevin to reroute ionization readouts, so he at least knew my son had a brain in his skull.

Ben no. Ben no reentering competitions as an alien

Gwen, sticking around the competition to see how horribly this plan goes whiel Max fucks off to look at the rest of the event

Vendor losing her shit that Max dares to be at the event without knowing a damn thing about anything. Meanwhile he’s proudly there in support of his grandchildren.

...the FD mask at her table disappeared. This certainly bodes well

One each ‘Enrique Mendoza’ is walking around in a FD mask and I am Suspicious, mostly because we’ve seen a suspicious silhouette a few times and this seems too convenient

There is a dude at this convention dressed like a hotdog who brought his baby dressed as a bottle of mustard

A skittish fucker, ain’t he? Max corners him trying to give him his badge and he’s going all fight or flight

Also dude’s got the helmet and the cape but not the rest to the armor set and that just seems like a half-assed job. I mean at least wear something other than jeans. Or a shirt with longer sleeves. Something.

And security is after the dude because he knocked Max into their favorite hotdog stand. Seems plausible.

Hmmmmm

Oh gods Enrique’s photo is just of the most saccharine young man

.........okay the helmet is a facehugger. Never thought I’d be so concerned in my life over an article of clothing

Also it’s moved on from Enrique to one of the guards

Max picked up on that shit quick.

The Forever Dipshit is an article of clothing what the flying fuck

Still belongs in the fucking Pit

Forever Dipshit is still a moron. Thinking he can intimidate Max into just letting him walk passed

Max beats Forever Dipshit: Security Guard Edition, the facehugger decides it must move on

And it’s taken over a kid, this should be fun

Okay but this seems to be mechanical so may I suggest catching it and handing it off to Kevin ‘Tech Nerd’ Levin? If anyone would enjoy using it for scrap...

Is, is Ben just repeatedly turning into different aliens every time he gets voted off?

Ben, questioning whether Forever Dipshit could be back, given he fell into a time portal. Gwen, pointing out that so did Kevin and he’s back running around. Ben: “Shh, we don’t talk about that”

Ben. Ben pls listen to your family for once in your life. Or at least give up on the contest, for fuck’s sake

I beat if Kevin were here we wouldn’t be having this problem. If Kevin were here that thing would be a toaster by now

Forever Dipshit: Sports Announcer Edition is a go and Ben still ain’t winning this contest

Using this form to get people to leave the con under the guise of a security announcement

FD judging Ben’s look

Ben: wtf weren’t you halfway athletic before?

This helmet is just not doing good on the ‘selecting host bodies’ thing

FD: “Do you have any idea how long it take to optimize one of these horrible meatbags?”

Goddamnit Max, your timing is awful

FD trying to steal Max

...in his defense, FD, he wasn’t the one who threw you into a time void. That was Kevin. Although I guess it’s easier to start shit with Ben, given he’s got loved ones and also Kevin would take you from robotic facehugger to household appliance within 20 minutes if he didn’t use Bootleg.

He is holding Max hostage. He’ll give him back as long as Ben lets him fuck off without a fight

Threatening to throw himself off the building, Max and all, if Ben doesn’t comply

“I’d like to say it was a pleasure doing business, but you’re a horrible little monster, and I loathe you.” Damn, FD, tell us how you really feel.

Gwen to the rescue, saving Max who then catches FD in a fishbowl. Though I am curious at to what he was going to say to Ben before she showed up.

“So what do we do with him now?“ Well, you have Kevin’s number, hand him over and watch the magic happen. Possibly literally.

Don’t call Phil! Phil ain’t shit and I’m still half convinced he’s part of this whole debacle!

...the man was at the convention in a full Forever Dipshit outfit. I’m not even surprised, just aggravated.

And he wants interviews for his research while he’s handling FD

And Phil wins the contest

7/10, was gonna be 9/10 but the end there was just, a waste. Hopefully they don’t just drop this. If they do it’ll be up there with how they wasted Mike.

[marvelhead17]

Miracle (Original Female Character x Cable Fic)

Chapter 7

Summary: “How did you fix it?” he asked. “Ask Ellen the Teenage Warhead,” Wade shrugged as he stood up, “As for baby Hitler he ended up having a diaper change, funny story I was actually going to call Cable since he was so keen on killing Russel, I thought this would be like taking candy from a baby, if that means replacing it with a bullet that is,”

  Warnings to cover the whole fic: Graphic depictions of violence, use of weapons, mild to strong language, mentions of rape, mentions of pregnancy and miscarriage, referenced torture and psychological abuse/manipulation, nightmares and night terrors, sexual humour, sexual content.

Word count: 1.3k 

“Escaped? From jail?”

“More like a Prisoner of War camp, that’s part of why I haven’t been sleeping, the nightmares,” she looked away from him.

“You’re not the only one having nightmares,” he admitted, the teddy bear stared her down in the corner of her eye; she reached for it and handed it to him.

“You should take this back, give it to your daughter when you see her again,” he held it and stared at it.

“If I see her again,” he cleared his throat, “I used the last of my fuel, might be stuck here for the rest of my days if I don’t find a way to fix the problem,”

“Oh, right,” she paused, “Thanks for going back to save Wade, I honestly don’t know what I would have done if he was really gone for good.”

                        “Don’t mention it,” he stood up with the bear in his hand, “Come on, let’s get some breakfast in before Wade’s arms heal, it’d be nice to have a peaceful meal for once.”

“I’ll be down in a minute,” he nodded and left, she turned to search her room for her phone.

Oh that’s right it must still be downstairs.

She put on a light jacket before making her way downstairs to stop dead in her tracks as she saw Wade sitting on the couch with her phone in his already healed hands.

“What the shit do you think you’re doing Wade?” she ran to take back her phone, he dodged and chuckled.

“Nothing illegal, well if this were Amsterdam I mean,”

She whacked him on the head with a pillow which made him drop the phone in surprise and then she picked it up, “OH GOD! WADE!” before dropping it to the floor again, Nathan crooked his brow from his seat at the breakfast nook.

“It’s just porn Hayden c’mon, I’m sure you’ve seen porn,”

“That’s a gross violation of someone else’s property.” Nathan said before taking a swig from a protein shake he had made.

She picked up the phone again slowly and frowned, turning the device in her hands, “Why is it sticky- OH YOU DIDN’T!” she glared at him. “Phone sex doesn’t mean having sex with the phone Wade!” she threw the phone at his head. “Keep it, that’s disgusting, I need to wash my hands with bleach now.” She grabbed the bleach from the kitchen cupboard and began scrubbing her hands furiously, Nathan shook his head at Wade.

“Well I’ve learned something new today, how about you kids?” Wade beamed as he picked the phone up and pocketed it.

“You’re disgusting.” Nathan remarked as he took another sip of his shake.

“If you think that’s disgusting, what will you think if I told you that I once used your protein shake bottle as a makeshift flesh-light,” he said, “Boy was that a good night.” He sighed happily.

Nathan choked and spat the liquid food that was in his mouth all over the counter, Wade bent over clutching his stomach with laughter, Nathan glared at him and his cyborg eye glowed brightly.

“Turns out Hell is real, and I’ve brought it here for you!” he clapped his hands, “Stay in school kids,” Wade added seriously in the direction of an empty space.

“If, God forbid, if God exists, he allowed a son of a bitch like you to live so long as you have Wade Wilson, I should have left your sorry ass to die.” Nathan growled.

“Why yes I do exist, as witnessed by the handiwork you two have personally experienced,”

Hayden dried her hands off and shook her head at Wade. “I’m revoking your status as Honorary Brother, you’ve gone too far with the,” she shivered, “-flesh-light.”

“What? No fair! That’s not even the worst of what I could have done!” he whined.

“Did you wash the bottle after you abused it like you did?” she asked already knowing what the answer may be.

“Does water count?”

“Jesus.” Nathan threw the bottle into the bin and his face was in full contempt for Wade.

“Wade water doesn’t- you know what never mind that- I stand by my decision and you can’t change my mind,” she said before leaving the room.

Nathan left so that he could wash out his mouth and mentally bleach out the images of Wade and his protein shake bottle in his mind.

                       After getting her music transferred to a brand new phone courtesy of Negasonic, Hayden sat happily on the couch and listen to her music, Nathan was sitting and reading a ‘Guns and Ammo’ magazine on the opposite facing couch after he had thoroughly (for a good thirty minutes of gargling and using a full bottle of mouth wash) cleaned his mouth of ‘Wade’.

The silence was anything but uncomfortable, in fact both were content with each other’s company, cue Wade Wilson entering the room carrying a large and fully loaded cardboard box before dumping it loudly onto the centre coffee table startling the two of them.

“What are you up to now asshole?” Cable sighed.

“Well that’s rude Mr Potty-mouth considering I come bearing gifts!” he announced eagerly. “Heh, come.” Nathan shook his head.

Hayden removed her earphones and sat to attention, “What’s all this?”

“Gifts!” he grinned.

“I don’t trust him,” Nathan spoke.

“Neither do I,” she agreed.

“Aw come on you guys! I’m not always bad,” he started to dig through the box, “Here, I’ll prove it-”

“Wade I see what you’re doing, and whatever you think you have in there to sweeten me up is not going to work, do you understand?” Hayden said.

“But I got you a box load of your favourite chocolates!” Wade panicked and showed her the box before putting it next to her, he kneeled next to her, “I got you microwave popcorn, the extra butter kind that you love!” he looked genuinely upset.

“That doesn’t matter Wade, you can still be my friend but you’ve lost your title as ‘Honorary Brother’ for good. What you did to Cable was absolutely indecent, and it’s embarrassing for me to try and cover for your behaviour, especially when it gets to this level,” she crossed her arms which only made Wade lower his head.

“I guess I’ll just give these and go,” he said before he pulled out a smaller box and handed it to Nathan who eyed it suspiciously, “Just take it Arnold,” Wade rolled his eyes.

Nathan slowly opened the box and pulled one of the items out, “A new set of protein shake bottles?”

“Yes to replace the one that I- let’s say horribly ruined and leave it at that shall we?” he clapped his hands together.

“Why?”

“Because I’m nice!” he pretended to sound offended. “Oh and I almost forgot,” he grabbed a container and handed it to Nathan glumly. “A month’s supply of protein powder to go with it.”

“Wow, that’s- actually decent of you Wade,” Nathan looked at the two gifts before him.

“And I’m sorry,” he said in a mock Canadian accent before coughing after seeing Hayden’s expression, “I mean, I apologise for my actions, they were wrong and disgusting. I hope you enjoy your new role that Haydes is probably going to hand to you now-”

“Wade,” Hayden wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him tightly before letting him go, “You’re an idiot, you think I was really going to remove your title?” Nathan frowned.

“You- you weren’t?” he sounded hopeful and his eyes lit up.

“No, I would never replace you, you damn moron,” she shoved his shoulder playfully before laughing, “I just wanted you to apologise to Nathan for being a major prick, I knew you’d replace his stuff if you thought you lost your title.” She smirked.

“You scheming little-” he smiled, “You’re definitely my sister.” He ruffled her hair and they both grinned.

Nathan wasn’t quite over what Wade had done, given he drank from something Wade contaminated with his DNA, but he was glad that at least he would have Hayden nearby to control Wade’s wild tendencies, hopefully for a long time.

________________________________________________________________

>> Chapter 8 <<

[becauseiwontwriteabook]

“Our little secret” - Sweet Pea x Andrews!reader part two

Part One, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five

The next time I met Sweet Pea was about a week later. Surprisingly enough, I hadn’t run into him at school, but when I took a bus to the Southside. The bus stopped right outside the automobile shop where my dad had sent me. I stepped inside and was surprised with the sight of Sweet Pea behind the desk.

“Well, well, what a surprise,” he smirked and walked around the desk to approach me. “Y/N Andrews.”

I didn’t really know what to say, so I just went with the reason why I was even there to begin with.

“Um- yeah, I’m here to pick up some parts, if you have them?” I held up a note that my dad had written. Sweet Pea took the note and gazed down at it.

“A 1970 Chevelle SS?”

“Yeah, my dad and I are restoring one together. We’ll actually need a lot more parts later on, but we’re taking it one step at the time. It’s in horrible condition.”

“That’s cool, is that like a family thing?” His question surprised me and I smiled slightly.

“Kind of, it’s been like a father-son thing, but you know Archie, he’s been a bit distant, so I thought I’d cheer my old man up by going to Junkyard Steve with him.”

Sweet Pea nodded, and gave me one of those intense looks again. But this time it felt kinda good. Like I was being seen by someone other than Jughead for the first time in a while.

“Well, you’re lucky. We got a partnership with a company who deals with original parts if that’s your thing.”

“Yeah, that’d be good.”

“I’ll check out back if we have these parts at the moment, if not I’ll have them ordered within three days.”

“Perfect.”

Sweet Pea made a gesture for me to follow him through the backdoor and so I did. We came into a bigger room that was rigged with systematically placed shelves. Sweet Pea approached a computer and searched for the items in the store’s database.

“Just your luck,” he grinned and collected a paper from the printer next to the computer. “It seems like we have all of them.” He started collecting cardboard boxes from the different shelves. At some point he stopped though and looked up at the high shelf. Despite his height, the box was still way out of reach.

“I think I need a ladder.”

I chuckled. “That must be a first.”

He didn’t reply, he just smirked at me. That damned grin. 

He found a wooden ladder near the door where we came in and I narrowed my eyes as I saw it. It seemed fragile, as though it’d break at the slightest touch.

“This should do the trick,” he said as he lined up the ladder.

“You’re not serious, are you?” He turned expectantly to me. “That thing is going to break beneath you.”

“You’ve got a better idea?” He cocked an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” I spoke, and he smirked. “I climb it, and if I fall, you catch me.”

He looked as though he considered it.

“Okay, that seems like a better plan than the other way around.”

I chuckled. “Yeah, I honestly don’t think I have the strength to catch you Sweet Pea.”

I began to climb the ladder, and was very aware of how Sweet Pea had discarded the cardboard boxes on the floor and was now steadying the ladder by keeping his hands on either side of my body. I just continued to climb and snatched the package off of the shelf, but as soon as I got it, I felt my foot slide off of the wooden step.

I looked down on Sweet Pea underneath me. My head was lingering centimeters above his.

“Oh god, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I think so.” He put his hand to his head and massaged it for a second. Without thinking, I placed my hand over his.

“Oh god, you’re not.” He gazed up at me, and I was suddenly very aware of how I practically laid on top of him. “Shit, sorry.” I was about to get off from him, when he grabbed my thighs, keeping me in the position of his lower stomach. I felt a burning sensation within me. “Sweet Pea, what are you doing?”

“Come on,” he smirked. “This is a promising position.” He raised an eyebrow, and I would’ve done the same, if I knew I could. His eyes were teasing me, his mouth – tempting me.

“Are you serious, SP?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“You do not want to get with me.”

“Why?”

“Come on, my life is nothing but drama because of my brother, you don’t want to get caught up in that.”

“I couldn’t care less about your brother,” SP replied, moving his hand further up her thigh and placed it on her exposed waist.

“I can be a distraction, get your head off of things, I don’t have to be involved with your family.” He started to trace circles on my skin. “How does that sound to you?”

I didn’t really know what to say, or understand what he meant, what he offered. But I did know that SP looked hot as fuck beneath me, and that I would allow myself to be selfish, for once.

I placed my hand against his neck and lowered my body again. SP was already gazing at my lips, and before I could decide whether or not I’d initiate the kiss, SP had already done it.

I had never been so relaxed in months, kissing SP felt like pure relief for my mind. For once, I didn’t think, and my body, instead of my head, tensed.

“You so needed this,” SP managed to say in between the kisses.

“Shut up,” I replied and felt him smirk against my lips as we continued to make out.

Out of nowhere though, the door that separated the backroom from the rest of the store opened and we quickly pulled away from each other.

“Jesus Christ, SP,” the guy said, it was one of his coworkers. I got off him and we both stood up.

“Shit, sorry!” SP said and picked up the packages from the floor.

“Warn me next time, will ya?”

SP snorted and took my hand to lead me out front to the cash register.

“Anything else I can do for you?” He asked, as he scanned the packages for me.

“Um, yeah actually.” He looked up at me. “Do you know when the next bus drives to the Northside.”

He grinned. “I’ll drive you home.”

[scouthearted]

spaces in your togetherness - a streetcrows fic

Six.

The world did not exist, and neither did Odette Rowel.

Everything, including her body and soul, was in a state of dreamlike horror, a state she was intrinsically familiar with. She never did remember any of her dreams but the nightmares, and those played out so normally except for the little twists in the world around her, little details that made the last vestiges of her personality cringe. The photographs that sat in their frames around the parlor were ones that she or Ethan never would have picked, for one; the two of them in tutus as they danced through part of Swan Lake as children, Ethan fake smiling during a family vacation as their father’s hand clutched his shoulder too tightly, and that horrible picture of their first day of college… the very picture that convinced Ethan to shave his long hair off. He never let it grow back. It looked better short, anyway.

Around her, people mumbled condolences. Odette decided not to respond. No, decided was wrong. She couldn’t have responded if she wanted to. She only had one sentence anymore, it seemed, and that sentence had been silenced by the only person she thought would understand.

Four.

“He’s not dead! I am going to find him. Don’t act like he’s dead!”

Oliver Rowel ignored her, continuing his phone conversation. “Roses. Twenty dozen of them. Black.”

“Father! He’s not dead!”

“Yes. I understand.” Odette momentarily softened until she realized this was to the person on the other end of the line. Her eyes, usually focused and steady, seemed to dart around. She was looking for… for Ethan. She could always count on Ethan to mock their father behind his back, until Odette had to try not to laugh, until she felt better.

But he wasn’t here.

Two.

“It’s not here,” Ethan laughed as he watched Odette overturn every little corner of his little apartment. “What do I need with a comb?”

“If this is one of your tricks, I swear to Grimen...” she said, half-snapping at him.

“Have you asked Mallory?”

“What would she do with it? She has combs of her own. I think, and her hair is so different than mine that it wouldn’t do her any good.”

Ethan adjusted, sitting cross-legged on his bed. Odette recognized it as his “sibling talk” position, honed between them after years of secret sharing in their shared bedrooms and dormitories. “Maybe it’s a girlfriend thing.”

“Or maybe you took it because you want to do your eyebrows.”

“With a comb?”

Odette shrugged. “I don’t know how you manage to keep them so perfect.”

“Actor vanity.”

“My comb.”

“Tweezers.”

Odette had to laugh at that, just a little. “Fine. I suppose I’ll believe you.” The grudging tone of her voice was her own little act… she never would choose theatre for a living, but she always had been able to give convincing performances anyway. “Well, then, I have business to attend to. I’ll be off.”

“Yeah, yeah. Love you too, Odie,” Ethan said with an eye roll and a smile.

She didn’t say it back. It would ruin the moment.

It would, later, break her heart.

Three.

“Breaking news, another disappearance in a streak that police and media alike are calling the Aberration Spree Killings. Twenty year old theatre student Ethan Rowel, son of the Dean of Students at…”

Quieter.

Her Gift responded to her will, and the newscaster seemed to fade away. It was wrong. This wasn’t something to keep quiet. Everyone should know this. Everyone should feel how awful she felt. Like a switch, the realization made the volume reduction reverse, until the voice was normal volume, then loud, then terrible, then ear shattering, then-

the television exploded. As glass flew towards her, Odette sat, unflinching. The crescendo was always her favorite part of her gift.

Ethan had been the opposite. He had always preferred the softer decrescendos, when the volume was low and the world and the heavens were just the two of them.

Seven.

Odette fell onto her childhood bed feeling worse than she had at the reception, the viewing, the not-funeral. Whatever her father had chosen to brand it as when he decided Ethan was never coming home.

The room was pleasant like a room in a dollhouse, or a picture book. A child might dream of living in it, with its candy floss pink walls and curled iron bed frames. The carpet was plush and white, stains masked by Gifted housekeepers over the years. They must have never stopped cleaning the nursery, as there was no expected layer of dust. Odette’s three story dollhouse in one corner was pristine. Ethan’s little wooden stage with the tiny red velvet curtains looked as though it had been recently waxed. It felt as though any moment, two tiny and tired identical twins would enter, throwing their ballet duffle bags on the floor (they’d be yelled at for it the next morning) and collapsing to the beds. If only. Odette would scoop little Ethan up and never let him go.

She looked up. In the center of the room, as though straddling the invisible line that divided Odette’s half from Ethan’s half, was a plaque with a quote.

“You were born together, and together you shall be forevermore but let there be spaces in your togetherness. And let the winds of the heavens dance between you.”

Their mother had picked it out before she died. Ethan and Odette had always liked that quote. They liked the dancing imagery, when they took ballet together as children, and the rest when they got older and learned what the quote really talked about.

Had they ever known? A space in their togetherness, once upon a time, had meant going on study abroad trips in different semesters. Not this. Not this.

Don’t dance through the heavens yet. You aren’t dead.

Five.

“Listen to me, Father, he’s not dead.”

Oliver Rowel never listened.

One.

Ethan picked his name with the gusto of a five year old. He played with Danger, with Rowan, and with the names of a hundred stars. He toyed with Siegfried and Benno and even Tchaikovsky, to match Odette’s name.

It took a while before he had the final idea. “Ethan Oliver.”

“Ethan Oliver?”

Ethan grinned. “Yeah, it’s Dad’s name, but flipped. Oliver Ethan Rowel… Ethan Oliver Rowel.”

“I never would guess you would want to be connected to Father.”

“Well…” Ethan shrugged. “We don’t always get along, sure.” An understatement if Odette had ever heard one. “But he’s still my dad. Maybe this will make him happy.”

“But does it make you happy?”

“Yeah, I think so. Ethan’s a good name. I think it fits me.”

Odette looked at her brother, a once-identical face, now so different than hers, like she was looking into a what might have been. She looked at his piercings, his clear eyes that were stuck between contacts instead of glasses, and his ever present smirk.

She thought about her initials, OER, Odette Elizabeth Rowel. They were once his initials too. Ethan Oliver Rowel, EOR, was close, but not the same. It was a space between them, two separate people who remained linked.

“I think it fits too,” she said.

Eight.

Ethan kept clothes at Oliver Rowel’s house, same as Odette did. Oliver, however, never liked Ethan’s clothes. Ethan’s wardrobe was thirty three percent leather jackets and metal band shirts, thirty three percent athletic wear for his active classes, and thirty three percent hoodies and comfy jeans. Casual, not befitting someone of their social standing, so Oliver liked to say. So while Odette had a dresser in their childhood bedroom, full of nice blouses and skirts for emergency stayovers, Ethan hid his clothes in the attic, among their mother’s things.

The cardboard box labeled Tonya Rowel smelled like attic musk and lavender and leather. It sat opened… Ethan stopped taping it back up when he realized Oliver never looked up there. Odette rarely did either, barely enough for it to be familiar to her.

Inside was a mixture of photographs of their mother, a lovely woman who seemed to bring her own light to wherever she was, and soft hoodies. They smelled like Ethan’s detergent. Odette tried, and failed, to blink back tears. For a moment, she crouched on the attic floor, her nose buried in her brother’s clothing, her heart recognizing him even as her mind knew he wasn’t there.

It was so confusing, something had to give.

And give it did. Dazed, dreaming, dissociating, she put on his hoodie and went to see Mallory.

Nine.

“Don’t worry. I’m not really crying. It’s just sort of happening right now.”

Whatever was left of Odette Rowel tried to make Mallory feel better. Hard when her own cheeks were streaked with tears that poured down her face, when her glasses were salt-stained and dirty. Mallory, still, looked more distraught than Odette felt. Odette had to comfort her girlfriend. That’s what girlfriends did, and anyway...

Mallory is all you have left.

Mallory, beautiful Mallory, brilliant Mallory, bold Mallory… she looked at a loss. A part of Odette wanted to laugh, but it came out a choke.

For once, she’s not together. She doesn’t know what to do. Isn’t that funny?

Her green eyes seemed to flash, and there it was. Mallory the wonderful was back, and somehow, Odette resented it down in the bare vestiges of personality she held. “Do you want to talk about him?” she asked, as if talking about him would bring him back.

“Let’s not… Mallory, let’s just go home for today, okay?”

She stared, then nodded.

When they got home, Odette locked herself in the bathroom with a pair of scissors. She didn’t come out until her hair was short. It was messy. Any other day, she would hate it, but Ethan would have loved it. She looked in the mirror and smiled.

Ten.

“You were born together, and together you shall be forevermore but let there be spaces in your togetherness. And let the winds of the heavens dance between you.”

“This is a space in our togetherness.”

“Ethan Rowel is not dead.”

“I will find him.”

“I will do anything to find him.”

“I will do anything to find him, even if it costs me everything.”

“I will do anything to find him, and I have nothing else to lose.”

Eleven.

As she slumped into Raccoon’s arms, bleeding, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in Raccoon’s goggles. Short hair, a hoodie on, a genuine smile on her face for once. She looked like Ethan, as much as she could while still being herself. They always… they said twins… were like this… even as different as we are… we’re identical, Ethan, aren’t we?

“Bluejay! Blue...jay…?”

She laughed. “Looks like I overdid it a little bit…”

It was with the strength of an actor that she pulled herself up. She patted Raccoon, idly said some things (she wasn’t sure what. Focus hadn’t gotten easier, and dissociation was her normal), and walked away.

Ethan, I look like you. I don’t act like you, but I look like you. Would you be proud? No, I know the answer. Just trust your older sister, okay? This is a space in our togetherness.

Together we shall be forevermore.

[classic-rock-roller]

1. Bonham’s not feeling right one morning when you’re getting ready for work, and she tells you she’s staying home. “I should be okay by tonight though, so don’t cancel our plans with Kevin and Randy.” You head out for work, and when you get done at about 4, you go up to check on her. She’s not in her room, and when you walk down the hallway you see the light on and the bathroom door hanging halfway open. You go over to knock on the door and see her lying on the floor, and the toilet bowl is full of blood. How do you respond?

I think I know what it is because I know my mom deals with this thing all the time. I don’t want to leave it in there so I grab a cardboard box and place whats in the toilet in it before helping her into the car to get her to the hospital and then calling Randy and Kevin on the way there.  

2. Your single with Kevin continues to grow in popularity even after it hits number one. None of you expected this, and Kevin comes to yours and Bonham’s house one day ecstatic. “We’re nominated for a Grammy!” How do you respond?

“Oh my god, Seriously! That’s great!” 

3. Your band is making a video, and you’re starting it with each member jumping forward through breaking glass. The rigs for everyone’s glass have worked so far, Bonham’s going next and you’re going last. You’re excited until Bonham’s rig malfunctions and she gets a faceful of broken glass. She goes off to get it fixed and the producer tells you, “Alright, your turn.” What do you do?

I’m a little nervous but I do it quickly and then go check on Bonham. 

4. You’re finally done with the tour with GNR and everyone is asked individually how it went. Everyone is fairly civil, but in his interview, Axl says, “It was fine overall, but I hate that singer, she can go fuck herself.” Bonham and Kevin are pissed and are talking about going after him. What do you do?

“You guys are not going after him. I haven’t had my interview yet and if they ask me about him I’m going to be civil. He wants a reaction. He’s not going to get one.” 

5. Bonham’s been staying with you and Kevin ever since Randy died because she’s afraid of what she’s capable of doing. You get home one day and hear yelling from the kitchen. You walk in and Bonham says to Kevin, “I can’t believe you! I held you in my arms and cried with you! How could you?” What did he do, how does he respond, and what happens once they see you?

He decided to get QR back together with Rudy and a new Drummer and Guitarist. “I don’t mean to be insensitive or an ass or anything but Rudy and I both want to to do this and we’re dedicating one song on the first album to Randy.” They’ both stop when they see me and then they’d both go, “Well what do you think of this brilliant/stupid idea?” 

6. You and Bonham have been speculating that Randy’s going to ask her to marry him, and he asks her one night to dress nice, they’re going on a date. You both squeal like sorority girls once she hangs up the phone, and you help her get ready. She leaves excitedly, and you go to Kevin’s to keep up the excitement. After about three hours you both head back to your house to hear the news, and you find Bonham on the couch in a ball by herself. What happened and what do you and Kevin do?

“He...he told me he had to break up with me because he’s going on tour with Ozzy.” “Oh, sweetheart.” I’d go over to her and hug her. “Do you want me to punch him? I’ll punch him.” Kevin goes before joining in hugging her. 

7. Your band just released a new album, and it sounds drastically different than your previous work. It’s doing well, and the producer of a children’s show approaches you to ask if they can use one of your songs as the opening theme. You tell them that you’ll have to ask your band before confirming. What do you tell your band and how do they react?

I tell the band and we’re all kind of surprised but say sure they can use it. We’re not exactly “child-friendly.” 

8. You and Bonham have great chemistry onstage, and everyone knows it. You get a call one day asking if you two want to guest star on a crime show, appearing as yourselves. What do you two do?

Of course, we go, we act horribly but who would say no to being on tv? 

9. You get a letter in the mail one day, and it’s from Axl. You’re with Kevin, Randy and Bonham, so you ask if you should open it. Bonham got one too, and she’s just opened it. It poofed in her face and she’s now covered in glitter. She looks at the letter and reads it, “Ship your enemies glitter, Love Axl.’ If yours is anything like mine, don’t open it.” She shakes her head and a blizzard of glitter falls from her hair. How do you , Kevin, and Randy respond?

Me: “Well, I won’t do it that way,” I go outside with a knife and carefully pry it open before bringing it back in. “Nope, mine says in big bold letters, “Die you fucker, die, die, die. He’s going a little overboard.”

Kevin: “I swear I’m going to kill him when I see him again. He better watch out.”

Randy: “He must really hate you. That’s unsettling and scary.”

Bonham: “He’s crazy and I’m with Kevin on this.” 

10. You watch Kevin and Randy jam at the bar with the two gentlemen and the sax player until it’s closing time for the bar. The gentlemen are very pleased as they tear down their gear, they’re complimenting Kevin on his singing skills, and you see the sax player go up to Randy. “You were phenomenal! I’ve never met someone as good as you anywhere!” Kevin comes up to you and says, “Look at them, it’s great. Let’s go bug ‘em” What does Randy say to the compliment, and what do you, Kevin, and the sax player say?

Randy: “Thank you, but I think there are plenty of other guitarists who are much better than me.”

Kevin: “Just take the compliment from the cute girl Randy.” 

Sax player: “But you are phenomenal.” 

Me: “Randy you are a phenomenal player. It’s true.” 

11. You, Kevin, Randy and Bonham walk into a restaurant for dinner one night and see the staff getting ready to sing for someone because it’s their birthday. Kevin says, “Awesome, let’s go sing with them.” You all do, and when the song finishes, Randy says, “Happy birthday, dude.” The table and staff turn around, surprised, and one of the guys at the table says, “No way, those are the guys from Quiet Riot! And the chicks from War Angel! Epic!” What happens next and how do you respond?

The birthday guy oddly enough just bought a QR record and a War Angel one and asks us to sign them for him. We sign them and wish him a happy birthday again. 

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

1) Nikki and your singer have become super close again since doing the Crüe collab album. They’re always hanging out and have their heads together whispering about stuff. You and Kevin still don’t trust Nikki though and feel he’s going to try something. What do you and Kevin say to your singer?

2) You, Kevin, and Randy come over to your singer’s parents’ house and when she opens the door she says, “Sorry, it might be super crazy. My sister is having about ten teenage girls over for a sleepover tonight. We can go out somewhere if you’d like.” How do you, Kevin, and Randy respond? 

3) After taking your singer’s sister home, you go back to the tour bus. The day after your singer gets a call from her mom that he sister is missing. Your singer is pissed because she knows that her sister sneaked out to go with Axl. You track them down to a hotel and your singer grabs her sister before ripping Axl a new one for taking advantage of her. How do you, Axl, and your singer’s sister respond?

4) Kevin is really jealous of how close your singer and Nikki are. One day, Nikki gets a little too close for Kevin’s liking and Kevin ends up punching him which starts an all-out brawl. How do you, your singer, Mick, Tommy, Vince, and your band react?

5)  You come over to your singer and Kevin’s house to make smores with the four kids. Once you arrive and the four kids are roasting marshmallows, Will comes up for his graham cracker and asks, “Where’s the chocolate?” Your singer looks to Mal and Kevin, “Well two people ate about twenty chocolate bars in two days.” How do you, Kevin, and Mal react? 

6) Your singer somehow got tickets for you, Randy, and Kevin to see and meet AC/DC. After the show, you go backstage and your singer gushes to Brian Johnson, “You guys were great. You sounded amazing.” Kevin then comes up and says, “It sounded like you smoked two whole packs and gargled marbles before going on.” How do Brian, you, Randy, and your singer respond?

7) You and your singer are in an interview and the interviewer asks if your singer went to school. She responds, “Yes, I have my bachelors in Early Childhood and Special Education.” You can see the interviewer’s surprise and he says, “You can teach? How do the parents feel about having a foul-mouthed rockstar teaching their kids?” How do you and your singer respond?

8) You and your band are at a huge benefit concert and Van Halen is one of the acts there. Randy and Kevin are also there because QR is performing as well. Your singer is talking with Eddie while you are talking to Randy and Kevin. Kevin keeps looking at them and goes, “I’m going to go over there.” Eventually, he does and drapes himself all over your singer. How does your singer react and what do you and Randy say to Kevin when he comes back?

9) You and your singer are walking with your kids. You’re walking through a park and she has her newborn son Eddie in a stroller. While walking past a group of old ladies, you hear one whisper, “I feel bad for those kids. Their moms have too many tattoos.” How do you and your singer respond?

10) Your singer and Kevin have a cat that she named Nikki Jr. (after the one you and her had at your apartment) and this annoys Kevin to no end, so he hates the cat. You go over to their house one day to find newborn Eddie laying on the couch with the cat curled up with him. Your singer asks Kevin to check and see if Eddie needs a diaper change and when Kevin goes to pick Eddie up, Nikki hisses and swats at him. How do you, your singer, and Kevin respond?

11) You’ve just had your son and your singer has been helping you so Randy hasn’t really held your son all that much. One day he picks him up and holds him arm's length away, “How am I supposed to hold him again?” How do you and your singer respond?  

12) Your singer thinks it’d be a great idea to have the kids fingerpaint father’s day cards. You set up the paint and place all four kids at the table with newspapers spread out. You and your singer are in the kitchen getting lunch together and soon your singer looks into the dining room and whispers, “Oh my fucking god.” You follow her into the dining room to find Four-year-old Eddie and three-year-old Jeremy both painting on the walls. What do you and your singer do?

@osbournebemydaddy  your move Bonham, love, 

[matthillica]

Pandemic - Day 355

This week marks 1 year since Covid was declared a Pandemic in the US.

As things began to shut down and the world changed before our eyes last March, I picked up this blog again thinking it would be interesting to document. At the time, although we hadn't told anyone yet, my wife was three months pregnant with our second child. My daughter was about to turn two. What better way, I thought, to show my kids what Covid was like than to document the pandemic's course as we muddled our way through daily uncertainty.

What I hadn't counted on was the duration and depth of the pandemic. I figured we'd be locked down in quarantine for three months, tops… maybe six if things were handled poorly. 

As the novelty of Covid and prepping pantries and Covid memes began to wear off, we learned more about how Covid is actually transmitted. That meant aspects of our lives went back to normal while other abnormal aspects became second nature. Fear subsided, somewhat. I no longer stressed as much about grocery store trips. We still wear masks everywhere, but aren't afraid of Covid lurking behind every corner. For the most part, we understand that by taking a few simple steps, we can protect ourselves and our family from this disease.

Then in May came George Floyd, which took a world already turned on its head and lit a fire underneath it. A summer of protests against police brutality followed, then the politicization of masks, racial tension, and the most heated election cycle in my memory, all capped off by a coup attempt… the year we found ourselves living through became about so much more than just a pandemic.

The overwhelming was soon mired in disinformation and propaganda and the overwhelming-ness of it all became too overwhelming to even care about documenting, even for posterity.

I quit updating. Who gave a shit anyway? Certainly not me. I had bigger fish to fry than documenting the slow motion train wreck. I shared pics from my Instagram when I felt like it. I helped my Mom move from Kansas to Atlanta and then we packed up and moved to a new house ourselves. This was a welcome distraction from the horrible world, but Covid never really leaves your consciousness. It's always there, especially in weird, unexpected moments. This guy is trying to talk to me and he's getting too close but I don't want to offend him. I just filled up with gas and I'm all out of hand sanitizer, so I drive home reminding myself not to touch my face for the entire 15 minute ride. Mom wants to go to the salon, but I’m worried about exposure because my wife and her father are both high risk and I’m afraid to offend her by saying something. You're always thinking about it. How could you not? Covid is always there, always forcing you to adjust your life and habits around it.

With over 500,000 dead at this point in the US alone, the story of our little pandemic lives seemed so miniscule and, quite frankly, blessed. Sure, we'd lost income due to my unemployment, but our family managed to stay healthy (so far) and happy and together. We had it so much better than so many.

But then I have days like today where small things just rip me apart.

I got my car stuck in the mud in our backyard trying to unload a toolbox in our basement the other day and now I can't get it out of the goddamn grass. It's now sat there for three days while I waited for the ground to dry out so I could try again. I decided this morning to try and get it out by laying a cardboard path of old moving boxes. It was a massive failure that only succeeded in creating more muddy ruts, my car even more stuck now than it was this morning.

I sat in my driver's seat this morning… yelling at my stupid tires and two-wheel-drive, pounding on the steering wheel; the weight of all these little thoughts and worries crashing in around me. My daughter's entire second year was spent inside a fucking house. My son is already getting his first teeth and has only met six people. My hands have been cracked and bleeding for 12 months from constant hand washing. I haven't had a haircut in a year. I haven't seen some of my closest friends in over a year. I have a niece in Las Vegas who I was supposed to meet in March 2020 when she was four months old… now she's walking and talking. My friend lost her uncle and father to Covid in the same month. My other friend has been suffering with Covid for almost two months. My brother caught Covid in September shadowing home inspections to become a certified inspector because MGM’s shows were all closed. I haven't seen my father in a year and he’s 71 and lives by himself. The last time we were together (a year ago this week) he helped me buy a handgun for protection. Political division, social unrest, and America's tenuous grip on democracy. What kind of world did I just bring children into? Are we gonna make it?

I know there is light, but there are days when it still feels pretty damn dark.

And I guess that's where I'm at, mentally speaking. Exhausted. Sad. Grateful. So incredibly grateful. Even when the exhaustion takes over and guts me, I remind myself to be grateful. I'm grateful that the pandemic hasn't been worse for us as it has for so many others. I'm grateful that I've been able to cobble together an income off freelance work. I'm grateful that my kids are happy and healthy, not to mention too young to remember any of this shit once it's over. I’m grateful that I've learned to cook. I'm grateful that my wife and I still love each other. I'm grateful for family who have helped us navigate being working parents without daycare. I'm grateful that my parents and my wife's parents have been vaccinated. I'm grateful that now an end is in sight. When that end will be for us, I'm still not sure, but at least we know it's coming. And for that, I am grateful.

Now we brace for a return to "normalcy", whatever that means… and however long it takes. A regular topic of conversation in my house is what the first restaurant we eat inside will be. Or what vacation we'll take first. These all still feel very aspirational to me, but at least we're aspiring, I guess. In my mind, I'm ready to burst out of my unfinished basement office and folding table desk to tackle the world again. I'm ready to dive into another marketing department somewhere, go see a concert in the front row, take my kid to the aquarium so she can see the fish she only remembers from pictures. In my mind, I'm ready for all of these things and telling myself that attitude is everything.

But in my heart I know that it will probably be a long time before I can eat comfortably at a restaurant again, stand next to a stranger on a train, or sit in an airplane with other passengers without it doing a number on my head. In my heart I know that the first time I experience live music again, go to a museum, watch my child take in the majesty of a real shark, or feel the hug of a friend I've only seen over Zoom for 12+ months, I will be reduced to a puddle. And that's OK. I expect there are many, many others who feel exactly the same way and will be going through the same thing.

Still, if there's one thing the last year has taught me, it's that the abyss of the unknown is crossable and I'm ready to cross it, for better or for worse.  

[falling-pages]

Tough Kids: Short Story

This story is about two characters, pseudo-siblings, who run a con to get to California. They finally have a heart-to-heart about their past, futures, and the impact they have had on each other while also getting on each others’ nerves.

Below is the link to read it in another tab, in case you don’t like reading it in a text box. Read, reblog, share, like, and comment!

*My story and characters. All rights reserved*

“That’s no way for you to live. I have to think about you, about your future. You’re my family now, too.” “Don’t worry about me. I’m with you, for whatever happens.”

https://writer.zohopublic.com/writer/published/f0tjsc4cf6bad9dd7441e8b35a5b1d1542f40

Moonlight washes over his hair, shrouding him in an angelic light so ironic God would chuckle. He didn’t hear me coming, or if he did, he gave no indication. But as I walked closer to him, the moonlight blanket began to fade until it was just a thin mist around his gaunt frame. I kicked a pebble and he slightly turned his head; the shadows did nothing to hide the worry lines on his forehead and the bags under his eyes. Suddenly, the light wasn’t so angelic. It was ghostly and cold.             He doesn’t deserve ghostly and cold. He deserves warm firelight and a mother’s kiss while he sleeps. And a meal, for God’s sake. He looks like he hasn’t eaten in days.             “Aren’t you cold out here?” I ask, touching his pointed shoulder.             He flinches under my touch, but he plays it off as a shrug. “Not really.”             “Come back inside, Mark,” I say. “The fire is going, and I’ll make you some tea if you can’t fall asleep.”             “I’m just scared they’re gonna find out,” he says, eager to change the subject. He reaches up to scratch his eyebrow, his hand practically glowing white. “Cons like this never last. Someone is going to figure us out, and then what?”             “That’s a problem for another day, kid.” I lean my forearms on the ledge of the porch balcony. “Don’t worry about that.”             Mark mirrors my posture, looking out over the parking lot of the motel. “I can’t lose this, Pipes. You’re like a sister to me.”             “Well, that is the gimmick we’re using.” I reach over and ruffle his hair. “Even though we look nothing alike.”                    “Yeah, yeah, I got mom’s eyes and dad’s nose and you got dad’s hair and mom’s face or whatever.” He recites our fake genetic history without any hesitation, rolling his eyes. “I don’t see how people fall for it.”             “Don’t question it,” I say. “The more convincing we are, the more money we make. Besides, we can always say we’re half-siblings or that you’re adopted.”             “Hey! Why am I the adopted one?”             “Because I'm the one who literally found you in a dumpster."             He swats at me and frowns. His face is rough and hard, his cheekbones so sharp. I need to be a better sister, better provider—             A gust of wind blows through, and Mark shakes. I take off my scarf and offer it to him. “Sure you’re not cold?”             He hesitates, then shakes his head. “I’ve had worse before you met me. Nothing beats New Years in the Bronx, I swear. Cardboard boxes don’t do jack.”             I roll my eyes and loop the scarf around his neck anyways. “But you’re not on the streets anymore,” I plead. “You’re in Richmond, in a motel with a lit fireplace and a bed and blankets. Please come inside.”             He stands his ground, and I lose my patience. I reach and grab him by the ear and march back to our room. Despite his protests, I’m determined.            After unlocking the door, we go inside, and I shove him onto his bed. “What was that for?” he yells, rubbing his ear.             I draw the curtains and warm up the tea kettle. After I complained a couple of times to the concierge about having coffee but no tea, they sent some tea bags free of charge. Sometimes it pays to be pushy. Now we’ll have supplies while we’re on the road.             “You are not caching a cold on my watch,”I say, rummaging through the bags.                “Why not?” On cue, he sneezes. “It would help sell the act.”               I pause. That is true, but there are too many variables. “You would sneeze on a potential Good Samaritan and scare him off.” I rummage through the tea choices, frowning at the lack of actually good options. “How do you feel about chamomile?”             “Whatever.” Mark winces as he unwraps my scarf. In an instant, I’m at his side unpacking the first aid kit. His movement cracks his chapped knuckles, the slight bit of blood still unsightly. He catches my gaze and snickers. “This is your fault, you know. You wouldn’t let me use your lotion.”             “Hey.” I dab at the wound with a cotton ball. “If you wanna smell like peony and lavender, be my guest.” He wrinkles his nose, and I smirk. “Want me to get you some manly lotion next time we hit the store?”             “Please. Get some scents like football or war or denial.”             Smiling, I hold up the bloody cotton ball and dab some ointment on his skin. “Can you wrap them, or do you need me to?”                          He rolls his eyes hard enough to see stars. “Scratch what I said. You’re not a sister to me, you’re definitely like a mom.”             “You bet I am, kid. Now, is that a yes or a no?”             “No!” He snatches the bandages from me. “I’m sixteen, Piper. I can put a Band-Aid on my hand.”             I raise my hands in surrender. “Okay, kid, just making sure.”             He peels the bandage. “I’m not a kid.”             “You act like it sometimes.”             “Hey!” This time he laughs, and my heart warms up. Any time he laughs is rare. I want to treasure it. Hopefully I can get him to laugh a little more and smile a little brighter. “You can’t call me a kid, you’re just nineteen!”             “Which makes me a legal adult, which means I can adopt you.” I smack my lips as I put on lip balm. “So unless you want to be calling me mom for the rest of your life, I suggest you start respecting your elders, son.”             Mark opens his mouth, shuts it, and opens it again. “You’re so annoying.”             The kettle whistles, and I grab two mugs to pour the tea. “You know I’m doing this for the best, right? You’re my family now, too.”             With a brief smile, he joins me on the couch. “I know.”             We sip in silence for a little bit, enjoying the heat and each other’s company. When we first met seven months ago, I had no idea that the soaked, shivering orphan hiding in a Philadelphia dumpster would end up meaning the world to me. He has helped me deal with my issues, and I’ve hoped I’ve helped him with his. Back then, he could barely stand and shrunk from every outstretched hand. Now, he’s tapping my foot with his own, one of his concentrating quirks. It took him awhile to allow me to touch him, but I don’t blame him a bit after what he went through. Progress is progress. Every time he lets me hug him, however briefly, my spirits soar.             My eyes drift over his figure, swallowed up by the sweatshirt. He’s so thin, so underdeveloped. We might be the same height, but he’s so scrawny I’m afraid the wind is going to pick him up and carry him away.             I set my jaw. I will not let that happen. I’m going to protect him.             “What are you thinking about, Pipes?”             “Hmm?”I look up over the rim of my mug and see Mark staring at me, eyebrows raised. His large brown eyes shine like a thousand stars in the firelight. Those eyes have seen too much at such a young age. He’s too young. He should be playing Fortnite and dating and studying for school, not aching from beatings and running from the law.             “I said, what are you thinking about?”             I set my mug down and draw my knees up to my chest. “Wondering why they put fireplaces in rooms that cost thirty bucks a night,” I laugh. “I mean, this whole joint could go ‘poof’ in a second if there were any of the unscrupulous types here.”             Mark squints at me. “Piper. We literally just stole a laptop and five hundred dollars.” He traces the outline of his mug. “Plus, we con people out of money by saying we’re siblings trying to get to California to escape from our abusive dad. We have fake I.D.s! We are the unscrupulous type!”             Okay, he’s got me there. “Well, part of that is true. We are going to California, and you are escaping your abusive dad.”             After a beat, he slurps his tea and asks me, “What happens when we get to California? What do we do there?”             A lot of ideas go through my head, but I dismiss them. “There are a couple of programs for at-risk youth for you, and some job trainings for me, but I don’t know,” I admit. “I just thought I would be hopping trains and pickpocketing for the rest of my life. Then I met you.” I nudge him with my foot. “And that’s no way for you to live. I can’t think about myself anymore, you’re here, and I have to think about your future and what’s best for you.”             “Pssh.” He blows air out of his mouth. “I already dropped out of school before I met you. Now I have a criminal record. We can worry about the future when it comes. For right now, let’s focus on scamming people and getting food.”             “And not dying in this sketchy motel.”             He smiles and puts his hand on top of mine. “Don’t worry about my future. I’m with you for whatever happens.”             It’s so touching that I almost cry. The silence is thick. His eyes are bright. My heart is full.             Then he sneezes and ruins the Hallmark moment.             “See!”I shout, pointing my finger. “You’re gonna get a cold! I told you!”             Mark slowly opens his eyes, looking high as hell. “I feel like I lost part of my soul in that sneeze,” he whispers.             I laugh. “Finish your tea, and then let’s get you to bed, tiger.”             “But this is disgusting!” he says, eyes clear. “I can’t finish this!”             “Take it like a shot,” I shrug. I get up, wiping my hands on my pants. “I gotta pee. Be finished when I get out.”             “But it’s hot!” he whines.             “Liquor burns worse. Drink up.”             When I get out of the bathroom, he is leaning against the kitchen sink, arms crossed and pouting. I swear sometimes it feels like I’m raising a four-year-old instead of a teenager.             “That was horrible,” he spits out, his face all screwed up.             “It’s for your own good. You’re welcome!”             “Stop being so peppy at my misery!”             “Sorry, kid.” I walk to him and ruffle his hair. “It’s better than you getting a cold. We can’t afford any accidents; people here are stingier than I thought.”             He wipes his nose. Just as I was about to comment on the price of laundry, too, he pulls me into a hug and nestles his face into my neck, squeezing my shoulders. I return it immediately. He rarely returns affection, much less initiates it, so something must be eating him. I pull back and gently touch the back of his head. “What’s wrong?”             A few tears fall down his cheeks, and he swats them away. “Nothing’s wrong, it’s just…everything is okay. For once.”             I tilt my head. “What?”             He clears his throat. “Look, you know I had a pretty shitty childhood. After Mom left Dad, everything just fell apart. I mean, I guess it did. I don’t remember her at all. But then he would just tell me all the time that I was worthless, I was a burden, he wished I had never been born, stuff like that.” I steady him against the counter as he starts to shake. “Then when I got older, he…” When he stops, my mind flashes to the scars on his back at the beach. “But right before I ran away, he told me that no one would ever love me.”             In that moment, my heart splits into a thousand pieces. He spills out everything he had kept locked inside for those seven months, finally ready to release.             “Oh, Mark.” I pull him to me, lightly massaging his shoulders. “I’m so sorry.”             His voice is thick and strained. “And I believed him,” he whispers, flexing his fingers into fists on my back. “I mean, I was one of thousands of runaway kids in New York. I did what I could to survive, but I honestly didn’t care if I died or not.” My hold on him tightens. I gently run a hand through his hair, not wanting to trigger his aversion. “But just when I really thought I would always be on my own, you found me, Piper.” He pulls back and looks at me in the face, his eyes red. “You took a chance on me and you took care of me. You gave me attention and food and love and a family. You showed me that I am worthy of love.” His trance breaks, and he snaps out of the mood. “Oh God, I’m crying. Why the hell am I crying?”             I choke out a laugh, now that I’m in tears too. “Let it out.”             Batting at his tears with the heels of his palms, he steals a glance at me. “I made you cry? Oh God, I made you cry. I’m sorry.”             “Hey!” I grab his hands away from his face. “It’s okay. Finish the story.”             “You’ve shown me that you care for me,” he continues. “I don’t know why, because I’m an asshole sometimes, but you still care about me.”             I take the moment to loop my arm around his neck, leading him to the bed. He only gets very emotional when he’s very tired, and in the state he’s in, he’ll pass out any minute. “Yeah, well, that’s true,” I say. “But you’re my asshole, and I’m not going to let something bad happen to you.”             We reach the bed. I look up and see his eyes nearly shut, and he starts to sway. “Come on, tiger, get some rest.” I pull back the sheets and help him in. Poor kid collapses immediately. I don’t blame him. We’ve had a rough few days.             As I walk away, I feel his hand latch on to mine. I turn and he smiles contentedly, so adorable and happy. I want him to stay that way. That’s my job.             “Piper?”             “Mhmm?”             His smile expands, and he looks like a little cherub. “Even though you’re not my mom, thanks for taking care of me. You’re a lot better than my old man.”             I lean down and brush his hair out of his face. “I care about you. You’re never a burden to me.”             “Goodnight…Pi…”             I gaze down at him as he drifts off. “Goodnight, tiger.”             Once I’m sure he’s asleep, I wash the mugs, put out the fire, and pull the envelope out of my pocket. We only made fifty bucks today, barely enough to cover the rent for the room and laundry tonight. We need to make more to get food, and then we’ll probably skip town. Southerners aren’t as hospitable as I thought.             While I think, I watch Mark’s shallow breathing. He is definitely going to get sick at the worst possible time. We can hardly afford medicine, much less a clinic visit. If he gets sick, there’s no way I’m letting him on the job with me. Even though the sibling act rakes in more cash, he needs to rest.             Oh, well. We’ll figure it out. We’ve weathered worse.             I put the money back and climb onto the couch, shivering as I try to relax. The fireplace would be really nice, but I’m not going to risk it burning out when I’m sleeping three feet away.             The cushions are lumpy, but I manage to doze off, only hearing the quiet pant of Mark’s snores. I guess I shouldn’t worry about him. Nothing’s worse than New Years in the Bronx, apparently. Besides, he’s a tough kid. I am too. And maybe, as long as we stay together, these two tough kids can turn out alright.

[rainygalaxynerd]

Brave New World - Chapter 59

Warnings: Canon typical violence. Severe injuries. Cliff hanger.

Summary: It’s D-day, and Team Slay Dick are ready. They have plenty of tricks up their sleeves so it should be easy. Right?

A/N: No one answered my question about whether or not I should post this before I know when I’ll be able to post the next chapter so now I’ll post it anyway. I’ve had it up to here (stretching hand as far as it goes and jumping as high as I can) with moving and I need virtual interaction. Feed me feedback, please.

This is part of a chapter story. Link to mobile friendly master list here.

Tagging: @jencharlan @jotink78 @kbrand0 @twenty-onepages @winchesterprincessbride @vibou25 @deandoesthingstome @littlegreenplasticsoldier @mrsjohnsmith @fangirling-instead-of-working

Sam cut through their argument, his voice doing the weird echo thing. “We have to go. If she wants to come, let her come.”

Dean clenched his fists and jaws and swallowed against the horde of swear words threatening to escape his mouth.

Cas placed a gentle hand on Dean’s shoulder, a silent calming gesture as they filed out to the parking lot. “If Sam says she should come, it will be alright.”

Chapter 59 - End Game

Dean glanced in the rear view mirror and scowled at Caitlin in the backseat. She stuck her tongue out at him. For the next few miles he kept his eyes on the road. Another glance, another scowl, an arched eyebrow and a lopsided smirk before Caitlin stuck her tongue out again.

Cas watched the interaction with fascination. “Is there something wrong with your tongue? Do you require help?”

Caitlin snorted. “Why don’t you ask Dean if he needs an iron to smooth out his forehead?”

Cas’ reply was cut short by the sound of Caitlin’s phone.

DICK PICKS FROM SPACE ARRIVED. EN ROUTE TO SUGAR LAND. -C&G.

“Roman took the bait, he’s headed to SucroCorp,” Caitlin told Cas, loud enough for Dean to hear her. Then she showed Sam the screen and he gave her a thumbs up.

Ten minutes later, the Impala pulled to a stop in the emergency track inside a long, curved tunnel.

Hands shaking, Caitlin texted Charlie back: WE’RE HERE. -C&CO

Less than a minute later another message ticked in. CAM CONTROLLED. CRASH IN 10…

Caitlin closed her eyes and swallowed, Dean’s stricken expression when they had showed him the fake video, fresh in her mind.

“Where did you get that?”

“Oh my gosh, was this really your car? We found some photos on a website with car wreck pictures and then manip’ed them into this.”

“That’s baby, alright.”

“Holy shit. How did you survive?”

Dean had turned his back and stomped out of the room.

Sam had come over and sighed at the sight of the wrecked Impala on the screen. “I was driving when the truck hit us out of nowhere. Dad had a bullet in his leg, Dean was barely breathing as it was. They told us, at the hospital, he wouldn’t make it. Dad wouldn’t hear of it. One minute my brother’s dying and I’m screaming at my Dad to fix things, to do better. The next minute, Dean’s okay and Dad’s dead.” Sam had shaken his head. “Did a hell of a number on Dean.”

Now, the cameras in the tunnel stored Charlie and Garcia’s manufactured footage real-time. Within the next few minutes, a traceable 911 call from the scene would alert authorities and three ambulances and a police car would be dispatched to the scene. They would be redirected elsewhere through scrambled radio communications before arriving.

Dean picked the lock to the dusty storage room for “CREW ONLY” and soon both ends of the tunnel were blocked by yellow and black striped barriers and signs saying “BLOCKED” and “ACCIDENT.”

Sam set up a bunch of flashing blue lights, so the reflections of what would seem like a bunch of emergency vehicles were visible when entering the tunnel.

Caitlin and Cas spread caltrops across a fifty yard section just ahead of the bend.

Sam and Dean set up a row of cardboard boxes containing crystallized borax and C4, working quickly and efficiently.

Caitlin’s phone startled them all. NEAT TRICK. DICK 1 STILL SUGARBOUND, DICK 2 COMING UR WAY, 3 CARS, 7 GOONS.

“Fuck,” Dean spat. “Why didn’t we think of that? How do we know we get the right Dick?”

Sam read the text and Dean’s expression. “Because the real Roman will be the one coming here. Trust me.”

Dean patted Sam’s shoulder and nodded. As he walked away he muttered to himself: “I fucking hope you’re right.”

Caitlin and Cas dragged a four gallon tank of borax over to the storage room and Dean figured out how to connect it to the sprinkler system.

They armed themselves with shotguns, extra shells and a machete each and nodded at each other in silence.

Dean handed Caitlin the detonator for the C4, his hand shaking bad enough that he almost dropped it. She caught it and he grabbed her wrists. “There’s an emergency exit inside the storage room. If things go south, you leave, promise?”

Caitlin frowned, the idea of leaving her friends behind and running from man eating monsters on her own every bit as horrible as staying in the killzone.

“I need you to live, please?” Dean’s grip on her tightened.

“Okay,” she said, shaking her head. As he let go of her, she reached out and stopped him. “But Dean, don’t make me do that. Don’t let things go south, okay?”

Dean leaned down and brushed his lips over hers. “Okay,” he said hoarsely.

They took their positions, Caitlin in the store room, Sam and Dean by the fake emergency lights, Cas invisible somewhere in between.

They waited.

XOXOX

Charlie and Garcia watched their screens rigidly, whatever cameras they could access along Roman’s route to ensure that nothing unforeseen happened, keeping an eye on the Winchesters standing in the tunnel, faces grim, guns ready.

A knock on the motel door startled them both, Garcia letting out a squeak.

Morgan pulled his gun and went to stand behind the door. “Who’s there,” he yelled.

“Me. What the hell are you two doing here?” Hotchner’s annoyance went through the door with perfect clarity.

Morgan put his gun away and opened the door. “Sorry, man. We’re working this ca…”

Someone kicked the door hard from the other side and it banged into Morgan’s left cheek bone. His teeth bit down hard on his tongue at the impact, flooding his mouth with the metallic, stale taste of his own blood. He shot out his arm to stop anyone from entering the room. Too warm, too strong fingers wrapped around his wrist and snapped it like a twig. Morgan yelled and pulled against from the iron grip around his wrist. The pressure simply increased.

Hotchner stepped into the room, keeping Morgan’s wrist in a grid lock, a cruel sneer on his lips. He aimed a gun at Charlie and Garcia.

Garcia stared at her friend and coworker with wide eyes. “Hotch, what are you doing?”

“That isn’t Hotch,” Morgan gasped, failing to loosen the fingers around his wrist with his other hand.

The Leviathan impersonating Hotchner moved the gun from Garcia to Charlie. “Don’t even think about it.”

Pouting, Charlie drew her hand away from the bottle of soap on the table.

“Shouldn’t they have been here by now?” Dean waved a hand in front of Sam’s face and repeated himself.

Sam shrugged. “Depends. They could have detoured for backup but I guess the girls would have told us.”

Just then, the sound of cars sounded down the other end of the tunnel.

“Woah, here they come,” Dean warned Sam.

With a nod, Sam turned to face the incoming threat.

The sound of popping tires never came. Instead, the cars slowed before entering the caltrop zone.

“Something’s gone wrong,” Dean muttered, exchanging a dark glance with Sam.

“Sam and Dean Winchester!”

There was no mistaking Dick Roman’s smooth, arrogant tone.

“I know you’re waiting around the bend, ready to fire everything you’ve got at us. Before you do, you should know that we have your friends at the King’s Rest Motel. They’re alive and relatively unharmed. If you cooperate with us, they might stay that way.”

“You’re bluffing!” Dean’s shoulders slumped in defeat, despite the defiant words. Of course, they weren’t bluffing.

“You’re welcome to come closer and watch the livefeed. So far that just means the real time video recording but if you don’t comply, it might become more literal than that.” The words carried an audible smirk.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean muttered and shrugged at Sam.

Together they walked forward, feet scraping the asphalt to avoid stepping on their own useless caltrops.

Three black continentals blocked the road, eight men waiting in front of them. Roman stood his ground in the middle, the closest goon to his right holding a laptop turned to face Sam and Dean. It showed the unmistakable images of Morgan, Charlie, and Garcia tied up in Sam’s room.

“What do you want,” said Sam, arms crossed in front of him, back straight enough to make him tower over everyone.

“What you stole, of course. Your guarantee that you’ll stop fighting us. In other words, the tablet and your lives.”

Dean scoffed. “You’ll eat our friends as soon as we’re gone anyway. No reason for us not to fight you right now.”

“With what?” Roman smiled. “You rigged the sprinklers to drench us in borax?” He reached behind him and brought an umbrella up. “You can’t harm us.”

“Yeah?” Dean mimicked Sam’s crossed arms. “What are you gonna do? Shoot us?” He winced at his own words as they left his mouth.

Roman laughed. “What a novel idea.” Seven guns left their holsters and aimed at the brothers as their wielders clicked the safeties off.

Sam’s eyes widened and he turned to Dean. “Dude! What did you just say?”

Dean threw his arms out: “Duck and cover.” He pushed Sam hard, back toward the line of explosives.

Caitlin listened from her hidden position. Things had gone south. When Dean yelled duck, she hit the switch and turned on the sprinklers, crossing her fingers that it would buy him and Sam a little time.

The Leviathans had the others. Her heart thumped against her chest. They might die.

Cas. Castiel. You can save them. You’re the only one who can.

Roman cursed as the sprinklers came on, bullets flying everywhere, his sizzling underlings firing blind. He held out the umbrella, allowing at least one of them to aim.

“Cease fire and take cover! No, not you, you idiot,” he hissed at the flustered dimwit at his side. As soon as everyone was protected he pointed ahead where the Winchesters had just disappeared out of sight. “Let’s do it right this time.”

Roman brought out his own gun as they advanced across the treacherous ground. The completely borax-free caltrops were a nuisance, nothing more, and they soon had the Winchesters back in their sight.

The tallest were limping. leaning on his brother. Roman took aim and fired a two deliberate shots. He watched with satisfaction as the two of them went down in a heap.

“Seriously?” Leviathan Hotch gave Morgan an incredulous stare. “You two do nothing but flirt outrageously day in and day out and you’ve never done the dirty? Not even that weird biting each other’s lips thing you humans find so entertaining?” He looked between Morgan and Garcia, momentarily stunned into silence. “You should’ve gotten it out of your system. Then maybe you’d spend more time working and less time frustrating everyone with your oh-so-clever banter.” A roll of the eyes made it clear how clever the Leviathan thought their banter was.

Morgan met Garcia’s eyes and she gave him a small nod. His lips curled up as he leaned his head back to sneer at their captor. “I thought your kind were an ancient race, akin to a natural disaster on a cosmic scale. And yet, here you are spewing the same ignorant, barely concealed misogyny humans with below average intelligence tends to hide their insecurities behind. What are you afraid of?”

The Leviathan narrowed its eyes [Hotch’s eyes, dammit] at him. With a huff it turned to Charlie. “I’m surprised you‘re still here, little turncoat. Don’t you think your new friends here know about all the crimes you’ve committed? Don’t you think they’re just waiting for the right moment to snap a set of handcuffs around your wrists?”

Charlie shifted in her seat. “Plenty of nice jobs for me in the White Collar division. I was never really a black-hat. More of a grey-ish kinda pink hat.”

The Leviathan smiled, teeth showing. “You’ve been planning to get caught, haven’t you? Hoping to get access to their old-fashioned paper archives to find out who fucked up the case against your parents’ killer?” It chuckled. “You’re delusional. Accidents happen. You just don’t want to carry the guilt alone.”

Charlie’s face was white as a sheet except for two red spots high on her cheeks. She kept her lips pressed together, hands clenched in their bonds.

Garcia nudged Charlie’s leg with her knee, her ankle protesting against the rope. She caught Charlie’s attention and smiled, shifted her eyes to the Leviathan and back before rolling her eyes vigorously.

Charlie’s breath hitched on an aborted giggle. Her head snapped back when the Leviathan backhanded her.

“Do you think this is a joke? Do you find your situation funny?” Another slap hit her other cheek. “What do you think is gonna happen when my boss gets the Word? You’ll get to mosey on out of here, no harm, no foul?”

Charlie spat a mixture of spit and blood on the floor, breathing hard. She swallowed and met the Leviathan’s eyes dead on. “I think we’ll be dead before the sun sets no matter what and I’m not gonna waste my last hours crying about my past to satisfy your sick sense of humor.” Her eyes widened and the corners of her mouth quirked upward. She focused on Garcia. “That sounded totally badass, didn’t it? We’re going to die trying to save the world and I’m mouthing off to the bad guys. Penny, we’re HEROES.”

Garcia scoffed. “Martyrs, more like it. But, your enthusiasm is admirable.”

Charlie’s face fell.

Castiel materialized behind the Leviathan and swung his machete in a wide arc. The severed head slid off its neck and rolled across the floor.

Charlie stared at the gorish spectacle, mouth hanging open. “Dude! Telefrag!”

Cas caught the monster’s head by the hair and carried it to the bathtub.

The head opened its mouth. “Think you’re a hero now, Castiel? Do all your friends know what you’ve been up to? We remember. Changing sides now won’t wash you clean, nothing will.”

Cas glared at the thing as he let go and turned the tap, cold water trickling into the tub. “My Father disagrees.”

The head rolled its eyes. “You’d think I failed psychological warfare 101,” it sighed.

Cas tilted his head, confused. He shrugged and paused. A small smile grazed his lips. “Why don’t you get clean?” Cas threw a bar of soap into the water and left. It only took half a minute for the water to rise high enough to drown the agonized screams.

Cas loosened the first knot on the ropes tying Morgan’s hands behind his back. There was a strange pull inside him, growing. The world tilted sideways, his surroundings blurring and fading. The carpet was scratchy against his cheek and smelled like onions. He blinked furiously as another Leviathan stepped through the door.

“Hello old friend. You look unwell. I guess the sigils I just activated are working.” The Leviathan kicked Cas hard in the stomach. “No flying, no powers.” It bent down and easily trapped Cas’ hands behind his back. “The combination of the inverted Solomon’s key keeping you here and the extensive angel warding might turn out to be deadly,” it said, tying a rope around Cas’ wrists.

Pain lashed through Sam’s left side when he hit the ground, twisting to spare Dean’s suddenly limp body as much as possible.

Dean stayed silent, heavy and motionless as he landed halfway on Sam.

“Dean? Dean? Where are you hurt? Dean!”

Sam padded down Dean’s back, feeling the warm, sticky wet blood. He shifted, gently rolling Dean off him.

Dean’s eyes were open, brimming with terror and pain. His mouth worked furiously but Sam couldn’t hear a single sound. Dean’s lips had a bluish tinge that seemed to worsen quickly.

Sam put a shaking hand to Dean’s back, following his spine up, up. There. Slightly to the left but still on point, just below the base of Dean’s skull. The entry wound. Dean was paralyzed from the neck down

Sam slowly maneuvered Dean onto his wounded back side. “Dean, the bullet hit your spine. You’re not breathing right now, so I’m gonna do it for you, okay? Cas will fix you in sec, so hang in there, Dee.”