#there’s a birth certificate somewhere she’ll never see and never looks for.

[quietwingsinthesky]

millieverse john winchester has a small scar around his left ring finger because when she was three, she realized she wasn’t going back to her mom and she bit him. she cracked her tooth on his wedding ring. the first time sam and dean met her, she had a mouth full of blood. until she was seven, she only had half a tooth at the front of her smile, and after it fell out, her face never looked right to her again. at that age, she didn’t remember her mother’s name and never asked before john died.

[dulldoll-0]

Q in TikTok byCo_ahbi:

I have a question Dulldoll! If Motthaeus was still alive and managed to watch Weather grow up how would the timeline change?

Ans:

There are two variables, but I’m gonna note Mottheaus died trying to find a way out of the factory for Isabella and for Weather to not grow up in such a hostile environment.

Variable 1:

Mottheaus didn’t die because he didn’t try or gave up trying to find a way out of the factory, leading to him coming back home to Isabella and Weather and continued their life there.

Obviously, if Weather were to continue growing up isolated in the dorm, then she’ll have a bit of a problem at socialising, despite being a very smart cookie, the desire for her to get out of the dorm and see the outside world would grow more, and maybe even start to spite Isabella for isolating her for so long.

Walden might still be able to find her like he did, but just in her later years, because they’re both related by blood and Weather’s magic lure him to her, similar to how Isabella found her as a baby.

Mottheaus would probably try to pull a few strings to convince Walden to let her stay, either to be an experiment or to be a proper employee for the factory, like the backstory of my comic.

Variable 1.2:

Mottheaus convinces Isabella to let Weather free, and reassured her that everything will be okay and is under his control.

Eventually, Mottheaus would introduce Weather to Walden as his own-blood with proof, instead of just a person looking for a job for many reasons ( no birth certificate, no medical records, no college degree, notta! )

Both Variable 1 & 1.2– part 2:

Weather would end up being an employee for the factory thanks to her brains, and most possibly be Walden’s new assistant.

Walden, despite knowing Weather is his daughter and losing memories of Ophelia, would only treat her as if she was just another employee. ( I mean, bro doesn’t even know her so why would he care? 💀 )

But there’s also a big possibility is would still get attached to her very slowly, often acting strict and uncaring, but not overall neglectful and tries to be present in her life.

Variable 2:

Mottheaus did find a way out and escaped, Isabella and Weather being with him.

They’d lay low for a while and eventually time passes and they settle down somewhere, probably a small cottage house with just the three of them.

Mottheaus and Isabella would have a properly defined relationship and possibly get married.

Weather would be able to go to school and college like a normal kid.

And maybe Isabella would be able to reunite with Jack. All peaceful stuff.

Any Rainbow Factory employee finding them would be really low, but never zero. . . . crazy Walden might still be on the loose to look for some new colors.

[mxines]

“ Did you make this? ”

She had heard stories of people taking in a child who were less fortunate and gave them a second chance at having a second family. Was it from books ? Her memory had been foggy the last couple days due to a close combat encounter with a walker. Or, she imagined the entire thing as if she seen it somewhere. Give her a little more time and she would have remembered, but as quickly as that bit of information came and gone, she was on to the next thing.

The piece of paper Daryl held in his hand was scrap. The dents and crumbles were proof of that. Something like that, a dumb idea, should be shoveled into the trash, and here he was digging it up. “ why are you going through the trash ? “ Something so little, yet held so much value in her heart. A piece of paper that she had scribbled on with her information. The sad part about trying to fill out the blank spaces was looking back and seeing how much she didn’t know how herself. She’ll never know where she was born, never get to talk to her parents. That melancholy sorrow crept in silence.

Her crystals averted his, one glance and she’ll crack. Maybe, if she didn’t think about it, it wouldn’t hurt as bad. “ it’s nothing . . . really ! “ Her walls were already climbing, but this time her defense mechanism sprung into action. She snatched the paper from his hands, crushing it instantly into a small ball and stuffing it into her pocket to burn later, because obviously he doesn’t know what privacy means. A farce she plans on acting up until she dies, to let Daryl know that she figured out his last name and put it on his fake birth certificate.

[lovelybarnes]

dad- l. laufeyson

pairings: loki laufeyson x doctor!mom!reader, mentions of tony stark, natasha romanoff, steve rogers, oc, and thor odinson warnings: a child, y/n is a mom, dad!loki who is probably a little ooc but i hope that’s okay, y/n is a doctor but there’s no real detail, it’s just alluded to, mentions of an absent father, mentions of adoption about: requested! They’re dating and she has a toddler from a previous relationship that ended badly. Loki treats the baby like she’s his own and brings her to the compound once in a while to show off ‘his’ baby. The little one adores Loki and started calling him dada, making the soft side of him comes out. And also the very protective side. He eventually asks reader if he can officially adopt her to be the father figure. Since reader never put down the fathers name on the birth certificate, they put Loki’s down. a/n: thank you so much for requesting! i hope you liked this!!

tiny fingers splayed your cheeks wake you up, wet lips pressing continuously on your nose as familiar laughter rings in your ear. your nose scrunches, prying your eyes open to meet the mirror image of them in front of you. at the grin that splits daisy’s face, a smile sneaks up on your lips, too, “hey honey,” you say quietly, brushing away a strand of hair that falls in her eyes as your daughter’s warm hands hold your face.

“hi mama,” daisy replies, snuggling into your side, “pancake day,” she informs happily, a chubby finger reaching to trace the slope of your nose.

you tilt your head at her, raising an eyebrow, “really? who says?”

daisy doesn’t get a chance to reply, the crack to your door widening when loki steps through it, balancing a large plate stacked with pancakes and fruits in one hand. “loki!” daisy cheers, sitting up to reach for the food. you sit up, too, cocking your head at your boyfriend as you observe the platter.

“you made food?” you ask, eyes scanning the little cubes of cut-up strawberries and bananas before looking back up at him in pleasant surprise.

loki ducks his chin, “you were asleep. and today is pancake day. i simply could not disappoint daisy,” he explains, letting daisy take a piece of banana to shove in her mouth.

you gently run your fingers through her hair, a soft smile tugging at your lips, “hey, dais, let’s go eat at the table and watch some cartoons, hm?” at the sound of cartoons, she nods quickly, bouncing off of the bed to tug at loki to follow her, the god not making a peep when her grubby hands leave a smear of banana on his wrist. you watch as they head to the kitchen, listening when loki turns on the television and flips it to her favorite show without her needing to tell him. you take a second to remind yourself that the god in your house, sneaking homemade whipped cream--because store-bought whipped cream is not fit for her--to your daughter, is the same god who, not too long ago, physically recoiled at the mere mention of midgardians. you stand when you hear daisy’s voice calling you over when you take too long to follow, peeking around the corner to see loki cutting her chocolate chip pancakes into little squares. “any left for me?” you ask, your body burning hot when loki turns to look at you, a twinkle in his clear sea glass eyes.

“good morning, darling,” he greets, his lips kissing your cheek when you come closer to him, an arm wrapping around your waist. “pancake?” he offers, showing you a plate with two perfectly shaped pancakes, whipped cream piled high just the way you liked it and berries surrounding it in the way you always tried to do but were never able to. you pecked his lips, smiling against him when you heard your daughter protest loudly.

“what are we watching today?” you ask her, fingers taming the mess of bedhead that sits atop her head. she turns to the television after shoving pancake into her mouth, pointing at the image, “clifford,” she says simply. you sit next to her, exhaling, “that’s a good one.” daisy nods, “i want a dog,” she states after a second, “like clifford.”

you glance at loki, “finding a big red dog is going to be a little hard, sweetie--”

“i’m sure there’s one in asgard, if not, there must be one somewhere else,” loki shrugs, squinting at the show, “i’ll find one. worry not.”

you shake your head, chuckling, “maybe a normal-sized dog, daisy.” daisy pouts but nods.

the sounds from the television are the only ones for a few moments until you speak up, “oh, i completely forgot, i have to go meet with some big shot hospital reps for almost the whole day today, do you mind taking care of daisy?” you ask loki, an apologetic look on your face.

“of course not, she can accompany me to the compound today,” loki reasons, not missing the excited look that crosses daisy’s face.

you brighten, “that’s a great idea!” you turn to your daughter, who has smeared red on her cheek and a strawberry in her fingers, you huff a laugh, wiping it away with one of your fingers, “what do you think, dais? wanna go visit the other avengers with loki?”

she nods immediately, hurrying to swallow the fruit in her mouth before turning to loki, “can i wear your cape again?” she asks enthusiastically, patting wildly at your arm, “loki lets me use his cape!”

your eyebrow raises as you look at loki, “does he, now? i thought no one could even touch it?” you tease, appreciating the pale blush that takes over the snow of his cheeks as he shrugs, clearing his throat.

“there are always exceptions to rules,” he states.

-

“i love you,” you say, pressing a kiss into daisy’s hair, she parrots the phrase back to you, leaning further into loki’s arms when you pull away. “i love you,” you continue, kissing loki’s lips, “thank you again,” you whisper, feeling him chuckle against you.

“it is my pleasure,” loki assures before kissing you again. you pull away after a second, smacking your lips on daisy’s forehead as another goodbye.

“i’ll be back later, have fun, okay?” you request before finally walking out the door to head to work. you don’t see daisy’s pout as she lays her head on loki’s shoulder, balling her hand in his shirt. a soft smile tugs at loki’s lips, looking down at her to ask her if she’d like to go to the compound now.

a little while after she nods at his, he finds himself clicking her seatbelt in, making sure she’s safe in her booster seat before he begins to drive. he knows he could easily go there with a flick of his hand, but the travel makes daisy nervous, and, besides, she prefers to ride in the car with him, singing along to the playlist of the songs loki found himself liking in midgard.

daisy squeals when loki pulls into the driveway of the compound, jumping out of the car when he unbuckles her to hurry loki up. she pulls at his pant leg, growing more excited by the minute when she sees the red white and blue of steve’s shield flying behind the compound. “i do not understand why you like that thing so much. so boring,” loki grumbles, grabbing her hand and opening the door.

“ah, there she is!” thor’s voice booms nearly the minute loki and daisy step in, daisy’s grin grows wide, looking back at loki before running to thor. “uncle!” she squeals, oblivious to the way loki freezes when she says the simple word. thor carries her in his arms, holding her up like simba.

“my favorite niece! i brought the hammer for you today!” thor exclaims, sitting her down on one of his arms before holding his other hand out. loki looks to the side, realizing his brother is calling for the hammer with his daughter in his arms, quickly stepping over to him to take her away just as said hammer flies into his open hand. he twirls it, before handing it to daisy in loki’s arms, still keeping a hold on it as she wraps her small fingers around the hammer.

“brother…” loki hisses quietly, refusing to upset the little girl in his arms but wanting nothing more than to knock some common sense into his brother. “i would like to remind you to not do that while daisy is near you.”

daisy barely looks up at her name, too entranced with the intricate carvings in the hammer, “oh, she’ll be fine,” thor shrugs, clapping loki hard on the back, “i am very careful, brother.”

loki purses his lips, “yes, i remember how careful you are.”

“hey! reindeer games and little grey!” tony cheers from around the corner, natasha catching his words from the kitchen and heading for loki. loki can spot the captain in the hallway. “haven’t seen you in a while, kid,” tony tells daisy, ruffling up her hair, “thought you ditched us.”

loki rolls his eyes, concentrating on daisy, who reaches for the electric blue in tony’s chest, murmuring “pretty.”

“isn’t it?” tony brags, tapping a nail on his arc reactor, “built it myself. you want one?” daisy agrees enthusiastically, but loki makes sure to send tony a glare that tells him if he even dares. loki will finish the job in new york.

“how’s the doc?” natasha asks, coming cilently from the kitchen with a bag in her hand.

“y/n is good, she’s at the hospital right now.”

“hey, dais,” natasha starts, her green eyes sparkling, “you remember the toys you wanted from the mall last time we went?” daisy nods. natasha holds up the bag in her arms, “you wanna go see what’s in the bag?”

daisy’s eyes go wide, and she turns to loki, “can i dad? please?”

loki chokes down the uncharactersitic lump in his throat so he can nod, putting daisy down so she can grab natasha’s hand. when they’re out of hearing range, steve raises an eyebrow at loki, “‘dad’? that’s a big one.”

“yes,” loki clear his throat, “she had never called me that before.”

the other men exchange looks, before thor claps loki on the back with a beamng grin, “congratulations.” loki has never felt luckier.

-

it’s a few hours later, when you’re back at home, exhausted and sprawled on the couch next to loki with daisy sleeping on your and loki’s lap. “how was your day?” you ask quietly so you don’t disturb daisy.

“as excellent as a day with the avengers can be. i took daisy to the compound, everyone adored her, natasha spoiled her…” loki trails off, the clear cut reminder of the events of that day bright and new in his mind, “she called me dad,” loki finishes, allowing himself to look into the deep nooks and crannie of his brain that urges him to tell you what he’s been thinking about for far too long. there’s a second of silence.

“she’s never said to you that before,” you finally say softly. loki shakes his head, “she’s slipped up before, though. sometimes she calls you papa when she talks about you.” loki turns to you, searching your features for a lie he won’t find. “you are her father, loki. you’re way more of a father than her biological dad ever has been. you’re her dad, she loves you.” there’s more silence, the question you’re implying hanging in the air, waiting to be grasped and asked.

“would you adopt her?--” you grasp.

“i would like to adopt daisy--” he grasps.

you stare at each other before quiet laughter bubbles from your mouth, a nod tilting your chin, “you know, i never put her biological father’s name in her birth certificate.”

“we could go tomorrow,” loki offers, admiring the beaming smile that brightens your tired face.

“we should,” you agree, staring at loki for a few more moments before connecting your lips, looking down at daisy and brushing away some strands from her face when you pull away. you nod, meeting loki’s eyes again, “tomorrow.”

[from-a-reckless-writer]

some rojascorp mayhaps??

Once upon time, Andrea Rojas would've been the first person she would call about this. Ask her if it would really be a good idea to drop everything and just leave. In her mind's eye, she can already see what Andrea would've said. She would say, yes. And most possibly even tell Lena she'd drop everything too and fly right along with her.

You jump. I jump.

She was sure of it. After all, they did it once before.

So, really it wasn't a surprise when she opens the door and sees Andrea on the doorstep.

"Andrea." The door opens wider and Lena lets her in. "What are you doing here?"

Even though based on the unreadable expression on her face, Lena already has an inkling.

"I overheard my emp-" she clears her throat, waits for Lena to turn and face her. "I overheard Nia and Kara today," Andrea speaks slowly, "You're going to Ireland."

Lena merely raises a questioning brow.

"I-" Andrea fidgets and that's the first time Lena sees that there is something in her hands. A folded piece of paper, it looks like.

Andrea catches her eyes, and says, almost a whisper, "I have something to confess."

Lena inhales deep, crosses her arms.

"Well, let's hear it then."

Andrea takes a step forward, debates putting a hand on Lena but settles for fidgeting with the paper again.

Now upon closer inspection, Lena notices its yellow color, an old parchment and if the inky bleeds are any indication, Lena's suspects it to be some old letter.

This rattles the heart in her chest, for reasons she would not dare name.

Andrea starts to speak again and Lena tears her gaze away from the letter.

"I-I've been investigating Lex," Andrea tells her.

"Seems like that's what everybody is doing these days, or so I heard." Lena's stalling she knows, but who wouldn't? Andrea's serious yet sincere gaze is terrifying. It has been so long since that's been directed at her, and Lena does not want to fall victim again.

Andrea ignores her, continues on, her voice now more sure, most likely the effect of noting Lena's reaction. Andrea knows all too well what she can do after all.

"And in order to do that," she explains, "I had to infiltrate the Luthor Mansion."

As Acrata, Lena adds in her head. She remains as stoic as possible and what Andrea does next almost knocks her.

"Lena," she says, "I really think we should sit down for this."

The rattling has now become pure chaos inside her.

Lena says nothing in response, just turns around again for Andrea to follow. She guides her to the enormous couch. She crosses her legs and Andrea does the same next to her. Lena pointedly avoiding the thing in Andrea's hands.

"So?" Lena prods.

Andrea inhales, swallows, "I went to Lionel's study."

The room springs clear in Lena's mind.

The rows of books; the smell of cigar and grease when Lionel brings his projects home; Lex's diploma framed and hung, Lena's report card pinned next to it. A single family picture. The stiffest Lena has ever felt for the camera.

"And I- I found something."

Lena snaps back to the present.

"It's from your mother."

Andrea looks regal in the open moonlight of her apartment, and God, she thinks, it truly would never be over, would it?

"N-not Lillian." Why Andrea felt the need to clarify that, she wouldn't know. When she's the first person Lena had confided to about how Lillian was never a mother to her.

"A letter," Lena states, her voice is quiet and calm, the opposite of the tempest deep inside.

"Yes," she confirms, "here." Andrea starts to hand her the letter-

"Can you please-" she blurts out suddenly, Andrea halting mid-way.

"Can you please hold my hand? While I-" she inhales deep, "While I read it? Please?"

Andrea only nods, reaches for Lena's hand, wraps around it tightly.

It's the anchor Lena needs, but she would never admit that. It looks like she doesn't need to though. Andrea already knows she's afraid of drowning.

Lena takes the paper gently, afraid that it will crumple the dust the moment her fingers touch it.

The paper is old and yellow. The ink blurred at some parts, drops of something Lena suspects to be alcohol, marring the words. He imagines Lionel reading it for the first time in his study. Did he feel the same churning in his stomach as Lena did now? Was he too drunk to even read it?

God, Lena so badly wishes she was drunk right now.

Andrea squeezes her hand and drags her back.

The writing isn't anything like hers. Each word in capital letters, which should've made it look a bit robotic and too uniform, yet to Lena's eyes it looks elegant. As if the hand that had written took great care in laying down the words.

She reads the first line.

"To my dearest Lionel,

I am sending this directly to the mansion, I apologize in advance. I tried calling. But your assistant, I have to commend her--she gets creative with those excuses--never fails to inform me that you're unavailable. I've also tried your various emails, to no avail. And well, this is my last resort.

All this to say, I know when I'm not wanted anymore. But I do just need to send you this one last letter. If you don't want me in your life anymore, well, who am I to stop you? You're Lionel Luthor.

But I do think you might want to know about your daughter, our daughter. Lionel, we never did make any good decisions together, but I think, our daughter, she's the one good thing to ever come out of this mess.

She's turning two on the 24th. She's perhaps the best thing that could have happened to my life. She's a menace, she started walking early and I've babyproofed the house yet I'm still afraid she'd knock her head somewhere. She's a babbler, and a smart one at that. She's going to do great things, Lionel. I just know it. I'm so proud of her already. She has your eyes. Always green. Always bright. I miss you, I'm not going to lie. Yet, when I hear her laugh, it doesn't hurt so much anymore.

Her name is Lena, in case you've already forgotten. Don't worry, her birth certificate doesn't say Luthor. Lena Kieran, I've decided, would be the safest for her. She will be untraceable. Nobody will manage to link her to you.

Then why name her Lena at all? If she'll never be a Luthor, right? Naming her with an L seems a bit sentimental, I admit. A selfish part of me, I think, is still hoping for you to come back. To see you hold Lena for the first time, matching eyes lighting up. Maybe give her your name.

Someday.

She's the love of my life, Lionel. I would do anything for her. I keep wondering if you would do the same if you met her. If you will ever meet her. I'm afraid, you know? I'm terrified of the day she'll come asking for you. I'm terrified that even though I love her fiercely, it would never be enough. Will my love ever be enough? It never was for you.

But well, I never was one to dwell on sad things, so I'm afraid I have to end it here, Lena will wake soon. And how such a small thing can make so much noise, I don't know.

Goodbye, my love.

If you ever have a change of heart, you know where to find us.

Yours..."

And that was it, Lena realizes, that was the end. It wasn't signed. She turns the paper over frantically, searching for any clue, anything, any sign.

A signature, a name, an initial.

Nothing. There's nothing.

"Where's the- there's no-"

She doesn't realize she's sobbing till Andrea's tearing the paper away from her hands and pulling her close; doesn't realize she's hyperventilating till Andrea's squeezing her tight, tight, tight.

"Lena, you have to breathe. Lena, breathe."

She lets herself be carried away by Andrea, heaving gasps coming out of her lungs.

She's the love of my life.

I would do anything for her.

She'll never be a Luthor.

I'm terrified-

"Lena, Lena," somebody's calling her.

"Lena, you have to look at me. Look at me."

Her eyes focus and Andrea is there, soft and strong and here.

Lena's fully in her lap, one arm wrapped around her, one hand cupping her face.

"Lena, Lena," she keeps saying her name, her palm warm on Lena's cheek, and all Lena can do is nod. Tears are still streaming down her face and if she opens her mouth, she's afraid of what will come out.

So, she nods. She nods and she tries to breathe, tries to follow Andrea's counting.

Her breathing settle, and she can feel the whoosh of relief from Andrea.

"There we go, just breathe, just breathe," she coos, running her fingers through Lena's hair.

"I'm sorry," Andrea tells her, "God, Lena. I'm so sorry, I should not have sprung it on you like that. I'm so stupid. So, so stupid. I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

She says sorry over and over. pressing it to Lena's hair, to Lena's forehead, anywhere within reach.

"T-there's no signature," Lena manages to say, she feels Andrea tense beneath her. "No name. I don't know why- I don't know why I can't remember her name."

Her lips move against Andrea's exposed collarbone, and she wonders if that's the reason something is drumming loud beneath the skin Lena's pressed to.

"She couldn't sign it, I think."

"I think so, too," Andrea agrees quietly.

She was the other woman, of course, she couldn't sign it. It was already an act of bravery to send it to a place where Lillian Luthor resides. Signing it would've meant more than danger.

"You were a kid," Andrea whispers, "You were a kid, Lena. It's okay if you don't remember."

But it's not. Because, because her mother loved her so much and Lena can't even remember her name.

"She said, I wasn't going to be a Luthor, in the letter, she said."

And that, that must mean something, right? That must mean that everyone else is wrong, she's not just a Luthor. She wasn't supposed to be one anyway.

Kieran.

"I'm so sorry, Lena," Andrea says again and Lena's unsure what she's still apologizing for.

"Kieran, Andrea. Kieran. I don't think that's supposed to be my middle name." She pulls away from her place on Andrea's chest to look at her.

She turns around, reaches for the letter discarded on the table. Her hands doesn't tremble much this time.

"Look, there, see," she points at the line, "She said, Lena Kieran. I think, I think that's a surname."

A clue.

A thread to pull on.

A part of her that connects them together.

Andrea stares at her silently, "I think you might be right."

Lena's mind is going a mile a minute now, she would have to research. She would need Brainy's help, a database, she needs access to a database, lists of orphanages, records that Lillian might have hidden about her.

"Lena," Andrea calls, "Slow down."

"I- I wasn't-" A blush rises to her cheeks, "I wasn't doing anything."

"Yes, you were. I can hear you thinking."

She doesn't answer, just slumps back into Andrea again, buries her red face out of sight.

"I'll help you," Andrea murmurs, "I'll help you. You don't have to do it alone. Not anymore."

"Okay," she says, dares to kiss at Andrea's jaw. "Thank you," she breathes against her skin.

There's so much to unpack, so much to do, so much to say.

But it can wait, it can wait.

"You jump, I jump."

[obx-adventures]

The Fall

Summary: Grace just moved from Figure Eight to the Cut. She never expected to run into her old friend, Kiara, and discover she lives next door to JJ Maybank.

Catch up here: Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3

——

Chapter 4

“Dude, what the hell just happened?” John B asks when he and Pope find JJ still rooted to the spot where Grace left him. JJ has been trying to decide whether or not to follow her. He knows she’ll be pissed but he also knows that she shouldn’t be walking home alone when she’s as drunk as she is.

“Fuck it. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” JJ runs in the direction that Grace left as Pope and John B call out for him.

JJ finds Grace sitting on a makeshift flower box about 10 minutes later. She had stopped walking before getting to their block, JJ’s voice echoing in her head. At the sound of his footsteps, she jumps and tries to gather her stuff to run.

“Whoa whoa whoa, it’s just me.” Grace sags in relief when she recognizes JJ’s voice. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I know you told me not to follow you but –”

He was cut off by Grace throwing herself into him and wrapping her arms around his torso. He follows her lead and holds her tightly as she starts to cry.

“I’m so sorry, JJ.” He shushes her as he rubs her back. “No, I was so horrible to you.”

“Don’t worry about it. I bring that out in people.” Grace chuckles a little into his chest and he closes his eyes in relief. “But you got to tell me what that was all about, sweetheart. I’ve been worried about you since I picked you up from work and then that thing you said about being no one’s responsibility. What happened?”

“JJ… can we talk about this tomorrow?” JJ pulls back a little to look at her face and can see how exhausted she looks. He’s seen the same look in the mirror after bad days with his dad. She’s holding on by a thread.

“Sure, sweetheart. Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

“No!” JJ’s stunned by her emphatic answer. “I can’t go home.”

“Your mom probably isn’t awake, you won’t get in trouble.” JJ forgot this is the first time that Grace has been drunk. But from what he saw yesterday, he doubts Amanda Porter will be aware enough to realize her daughter is just as drunk as her.

“It’s not that. I just… please. Please can we go somewhere else?” Now JJ understands this is a whole different issue. He’s pretty sure it has something to do with her dad but decides not to push it.

“Well we’re pretty far from the Chateau already, do you think you can walk for another 30 minutes?”

“No…” Grace chews on her lip and sways a little. JJ is positive he’s never seen someone so cute. He places his hands on her shoulders to steady her, trying to remember that she needs a friend right now, not a guy that can only think about how adorable she looks.

“Then your house it is.”

“What about yours?” JJ’s eyes widen in surprise at Grace’s suggestion.

“You would rather face my abusive, alcoholic father than your sleeping mom?”

“JJ…”

“What if I stayed with you and ran interference so you don’t see her?” Grace freezes up at the suggestion and can’t help thinking about how she fell asleep with his hand stroking her cheek. She giggles at the thought and her cheeks flush in embarrassment.

“Yea, I guess that would be ok.” She continues to giggle as she turns away from him to walk home.

“What’s so funny?” JJ caught the pink tinge in her cheeks before she turned around and is desperate to know what caused it.

Grace decided not to answer as she stumbled ahead of him. After almost tripping a few more times, JJ steps in front of her and crouches a bit so she can jump on his back. When she hesitates for a second, he looks back at her and winks. She giggles again and awkwardly jumps up for a piggy back ride.

When they get to her house, she tries to unlock her door but can’t steady herself enough to get the key in the lock. JJ takes over and leads her inside. Despite being drunk, her first instinct is to check on her mom.

Grace finds Amanda passed out with another empty bottle of alcohol next to her. JJ waits outside her mom’s room, watching her closely. As Grace’s knees buckle and a sob escapes her, JJ swoops in to pick her up and carry her to her room. He sits on her bed and holds her against his chest, rocking slowly and running his fingers through her hair.

“What happened, sweetheart?” he asks after she finally settles down.

“She lied to me for my whole life. They both did. He finally told me the truth today. But he doesn’t want me. And she’s a mess. And I feel so fucking alone.”

“What did they lie about?”

“He’s not... he’s... not... my...” Grace tries time to calm her sobs enough to talk but JJ understands. He soothes her and tells her she doesn’t need to say anything else.

“I’m so sorry, Grace.” He can’t imagine how much it hurt her to find out Paul isn’t her real father. For a moment, he isn’t sure what else to say but then he remembers their conversation in the kitchen the night before. “I know it feels like it but you aren’t alone. Remember? We can take care of each other. Ok?”

Grace gives him a watery smile and nods a little at him. She reaches her hand out and brushes his hair off his forehead. Instead of pulling her hand back, she leaves it on his cheek and is surprised when he leans into it. They stay like that for what feels like an eternity, just staring into each other’s eyes.

JJ’s phone beeps, causing them both to jump a little. Grace awkwardly moves off his lap and runs into the bathroom to clean herself up. After washing her face and brushing her teeth, she decides she can’t put off going back into her room. When she does, she finds him in the same spot as before.

“Hi...” Grace isn’t sure what else to say after whatever it was that just happened between them.

“Uh, Kie was just checking to make sure you’re ok...” Grace giggles at JJ’s awkwardness. At least she isn’t the only one thrown off kilter. “Uh, we should... umm, we should get some sleep.”

Grace nods at JJ but doesn’t move from her spot leaning against the door. She’s trying to decide what to do next. She’s never been a risk taker but she’s also never felt this way about someone. As if her body is acting on it’s own accord, she moves to stand in front of JJ. He looks perplexed and nervous, two words Grace never thought she would associate with him. She gently runs one hand through his hair and places the other on his opposite cheek.

“What are you doing?” JJ’s voice is barely a whisper.

“Something I’ve wanted to do for the past 3 weeks...”

JJ stares into Grace’s eyes as he reaches up to move her hands away from his face and hair.

“Grace, you’re drunk... I think we should just lay down and get some sleep.” He releases her hands and fights to ignore the pain and embarrassment written all over her face as he stands up to walk past her.

When he gets to the bathroom, he curses himself as he splashes cold water on his face. What the hell was that? If Kie hadn’t texted him, he’s sure he would have kissed Grace. And he wanted to now when she stood in front of him. But he was able to remind himself while she was in the bathroom that she’s drunk and reeling from finding out about her dad. He knows he’s an asshole but not a big enough asshole to take advantage of her while she’s in this state. JJ pulls himself together and goes back into Grace’s room.

He finds Grace curled up into a ball on the same side of the bed she was last night. He can see her body shaking and is sure she’s crying again. But he doesn’t know what to do now.

After getting into bed, he reaches over to touch her shoulder but she flinches away from him. Fuck, did he just totally screw everything up between them?

“Do you want me to go?”

Grace shakes her head no but refuses to turn around to face him. JJ understands this is the best he can hope for. He falls asleep thinking about how he will make things right between them tomorrow.

——

Grace wakes up with a horrendous headache. She rolls over to see JJ still asleep beside her. As she looks at his peaceful face, she cringes at the memory of his rejection last night. How could she be so stupid? Why would JJ Maybank be interested in her?

She slowly gets out of bed, trying desperately not to wake him up. As she stands under the hot water in the shower, she tries to piece together what happened last night. She’s a little impressed with herself for punching Rafe but can’t believe how she acted with JJ. He probably thinks she’s pathetic. Grace is jolted out of her self-pity when she hears the door open.

“Sorry, Grace, I just really need to pee.” Grace’s whole body stiffens in rage at the sound of her mom’s voice.

“Get out!”

“I’m sorry to burst in like this but you’ve been in here for 40 minutes and I couldn’t hold it anymore.”

Grace grinds her teeth in frustration. She needs to talk to her mom but she wants to be able to see her face when she asks her for the truth. Amanda leaves the bathroom and Grace quickly finishes her shower. When she gets back to her room, JJ is still snoring. She decides to deal with one emotionally painful situation at a time and leaves him asleep to go find her mom.

“Mom, we need to talk.” Amanda is making coffee in the kitchen so Grace sits at the table to wait for her.

“Ok, what’s up?” Amanda is certain that Grace wants to talk about her drinking. She knows it’s gotten bad and Grace has had to take care of her a lot lately.

“I saw dad yesterday.” Amanda can see how angry Grace is and is worried about where this conversation is going.

“Oh? How did that go?”

“Not great, mom. He told me he’s not my biological father.” Amanda flinches at Grace’s words and that’s enough confirmation for Grace. “Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“I didn’t want to hurt you, sweetie.” Amanda reaches over to take Grace’s hand and is hurt when Grace pulls her hands away. “Plus, it doesn’t really change anything. Paul knew I was pregnant before we got married. He knew he wasn’t your father but he still signed your birth certificate. Legally, that makes him your dad. My lawyer says-”

“Shut up!” Grace yells. “I don’t give a shit about the legal crap! And it changes everything! The man I consider my dad doesn’t want anything to do with me! And he never has. All these years, I thought I had done something wrong. That it was my fault that he never spent time with me. All my life, I’ve felt like I wasn’t good enough, that I didn’t deserve his or anyone else’s love.”

“Oh sweetie, no-”

“Stop, I don’t want to hear anything you have to say. You’re just as bad as he is. I knew I had to talk to you right away this morning because you won’t be sober much longer. You’ve been drunk by noon every day since we moved here. I had to get a job to pay our rent and buy groceries so we don’t starve. I’ve always been more of the adult in our relationship but now I can’t count on you at all. And... and I can’t trust you anymore.”

“Grace, that’s not fair.” Amanda knows that everything her daughter said is true but it doesn’t make it any less painful.

Grace storms into her room, too disgusted with her mother and too hurt to talk anymore. After slamming her door, she sinks to the ground and cries into her hands. She doesn’t hear JJ walk over to her over the sound of her own sobs. When he touches her shoulder, she jumps but quickly grabs onto him like a lifeline. He sits down with her and pulls her against his chest, thankful that she’s accepting his comfort.

Twenty minutes later, Grace’s tears have dried and her breathing has returned to normal. She looks up at JJ and is reminded of what happened between them last night. She sits up and releases him.

“Thank you, JJ. And... and I want to apologize... I was really drunk last night. I didn’t... I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I hope it doesn’t change... I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. I should have explained-” Grace cuts him off before he can go on.

“You don’t need to explain. I get it.” Grace stands up and puts as much distance as she can between them, desperately trying to avoid hearing how someone else important to her doesn’t want her. “Kiara will be here any minute. I think my mom is back in her room so you should go now before she sees you.”

JJ stares at Grace but she stubbornly avoids looking at him. After a minute of awkward silence, JJ walks towards her and stops in the doorway, trying to get her to meet his gaze. Grace finally looks him in the eyes but before he can talk, he hears Kiara honk to let Grace know she’s there. As they walk outside, he stops her before she gets in the car.

“Can I walk you home after work?”

“Uh, no. I’ll ask Kiara for a ride.”

“Please, I want to talk about this.” Grace looks down at her hands and JJ can practically hear her thinking through excuses. He gently turns her face to look at him and holds eye contact. “Please.”

Grace nods and quickly gets into Kiara’s car before he can say anything else. Kiara is staring at JJ through the passenger window, clearly confused about their exchange. He walks away quickly before Kiara has a chance to say anything to make this more awkward.

“Shit...” Grace cringes at the tone in Kiara’s voice. “What the hell was that?”

Ch 5

Taglist: @agirlwholovescoffee @alexa-playafricabytoto @mendesmaybank @teamnick @laurenyee09 @prejudic3 @teaheeee @shy-1234 @rudyismymanperiod @teaparadiso @rudy-pankow

[vansmaybeonthewall]

Another One?

Masterlist

requests are open 

i did promise something to my fellow Misha’s and it has been fulfilled  

(don’t judge the choices I make, no God can tame me)

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“So get this. Lake Cachuma, California. Three men found dead with their ears blown out. All three found at the same place, at the edge of a dock leading into the water.”

“And this is our thing how?”

“Well, they weren’t taking some lovely vacation Dean. All three were found in their suits with a little note spilling their secret infidelities.”

“That’ll do it. Do we have a lead?”

“Yeah, Cassandra Peters. Senior at Santa Barbara High School, her dad was the most recent victim.”

“I hope you packed your bikini Sammy, California here we come.”

A Few Hours Later...

Yeah, it wasn’t sunny and warm as Dean Winchester expected. Cloudy skies and a light breeze greeted Sam and Dean as they arrived at the Peters household. Thunder rumbled in the distance, signifying a coming storm. 

“Still ready for that swim Dean?”

“Oh shut up.”

“I don’t think you’ll need sunscreen anymore, I know how much you hate it.”

“Sam-

“Um, can I help you?”

The argument came to a halt when a young girl opened the door.

“Cassandra Peters?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you mind if we talk to you about-”

“My dad’s death? So does everyone else, so how are you any different?”

Sam and Dean were left speechless. Sure there were people who were defensive after a family death, but a teenage girl? Usually, day old mascara streaks could be seen with red, teary eyes. But Cassandra Peters? Her face was void of any emotion with dull eyes. 

“We know what it’s like,” Dean started, “to lose someone.”

“Yeah well, do you know what it’s like to learn that that person wasn’t someone you knew?”

“We understand if you don’t want to talk about it, nobody does, but sometimes it’s easier to tell someone how you actually feel.” Sam hoped that was enough to get the girl talking. 

She looked slightly guilty, I mean, they looked like nice guys. 

“Look, I’m sorry. A friend of mine taught me to stop the tears with being an asshole. I don’t see how it works or how she does it, but I guess it’s a coping mechanism. Not for me I suppose.”

“Believe us when we say we understand.”

“Well, seeing as you’re still here, ask away.”

“Okay, was there anything strange that occurred around the time your dad died?”

“Well besides the weather, I don’t think so. Like the two before, a rain storm hit without warning. The streets flooded, you could barely see in front of you.”

“What about your dad? Did he seem strange to you?”

“Yeah, maybe two days before he seemed nervous, scared. He kept saying someone was following him. Some girl in a white dress.”

“Did he say what she looked like?”

“You see, that’s the strange part. He said he saw Y/N, which is weird because she was with me or in rehearsal. And there is no way Y/N would skip rehearsal.”

“Do you know where we can find Y/N?”

“She should be at rehearsal now actually. She’s not in trouble is she?”

“No, we just need to check up on her, have a little chat.”

“She’s at the high school, but be careful, she really doesn’t like being interrogated about her parents or any family related subject. She gave me the tip of being an asshole instead of being depressed, still not seeing how that works.”

“Can we ask why?”

“Her step-dad was the first victim.”

“Right. Well, if you think of anything, give us a call. Even the smallest thing can help.”

Dean handed her the famous “business” card, which made Cassandra do a double-take. 

“Sam and Dean Winchester? As in Y/N Winchester?”

“Sorry?”

“Y/N Winchester, that’s who I’m talking about. You have the same name. Now come to think of it, you guys kind of look alike.”

Cassandra pulls a picture from her phone.

“This is Y/N.”

Sam and Dean share a look, one between shock and nervousness.

“Would you, uh, would you mind telling us about her?” Dean asked, afraid to know the truth. 

“I don’t see why not, this is some TV shit. But you should probably come in, the rain won’t be getting any better.”

The Peters household was quiet and empty. Even with all the lights on, the house was dark. What captured the brother’s attention was the pictures of Cassandra and Y/N. 

“So what do you wanna know?”

“Anything really.”

“Okay. Y/N Marie Winchester, where to start. Born June 25, 1989, she’s a Cancer. Tall, like you two. She has the kindest eyes, when she looks at her it’s like she can see into your soul. She acts tough at first, but once she lets you in she’s one of the funniest people you’ve ever known. Oh, absolutely hates dresses, her favorite things to wear are flannels and her leather jacket. God that leather jacket, she never takes that thing off. She loves to sing, always has. She doesn’t like to get close to people, it’s like she’s afraid they’ll get hurt or that maybe she’ll have to leave them behind.”

Sam smiled softly and Dean held a thoughtful look, Could there really be another Winchester?

“Wait, she has your smile. And she has that same look when taking a test. Do you really not know if you’re related?”

“No, no Y/N Winchester has came up.”

“Well, I’ll take you to her. One, I’d love for Y/N to have her family. Two, I need a source of happiness and this family reunion will do it.”

“Lead the way.”

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“Okay, one more run through ‘World Burn’ and that’s a wrap. Y/N you ready?”

“Always.”

“Alright, from the top!”

Approx. a minute or two later, idk time 

As the trio made their way to the theatre, Cassandra could hear the chorus. 

“Come on! We’re gonna miss the best part.”

Lucky for them, they made it before the big note. 

“Gotta love a woman in power. Wait here, I’ll bring her to you.” Cassandra jogs towards Y/N as she jumped offstage. Greeting her with a hug, she explains her predicament. 

“A sister,” Dean started, “we might have a sister?”

“With the world we live in, I don’t find it impossible Dean.”

“But why would Dad-”

“Sam, Dean, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Sam and Dean. Winchester.”

“Okay, I get that, but that doesn’t automatically make us related Cass.”

“Stop being hard-headed. Why don’t you guys talk it out? I’ll meet up with Jessie. See you later jerk.” With that, Cassandra took a U-turn towards another student.

“Bitch.” Y/N called after her. She turned towards the two giants, making a face at their surprised ones. “What?”

“Nothing, do you mind if we talk to you outside?”

“I don’t see why not.”

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“Holy shit! Is that a 1967 Chevy Impala? Please tell me it’s yours, I’ll tell you all my life secrets if it is.”

“Uh, yeah, it is.” Dean stuttered. The information the brothers were learning kept hitting them in the face. Is she really a Winchester?

“Yes! Let us congregate at this lunch table and I’ll spill my tragic life story.”

“So, you sing?”

“Yeah, best thing that’s ever happened to me. Everyone says I took it from my mom, but who knows, not me that’s for sure. Me and Cass are also in a band, which reminds me, I have to be somewhere in two hours, so if we could do this a little fast that would be great thanks.”

Dean, unlike Sam, wanted to get straight to the point. Why ease into the subject when it is so painfully obvious she’s a Winchester?

“What do you know about your dad?”

“Not much really, I just know he took off before I was born. I lived with my mother until I was about 5. Then my quote unquote “dad” came back into my life and my mother disappeared. Stayed with him for about a year, met a lot of strange people, and I was finally dropped off with some random couple here. Terrible parenting, but here I am alive and well I guess. But he did leave me some sort of book, more of a copy.”

Both brothers were intrigued in her life story. A strange life, a Winchester life. Y/N pulled the book out of her backpack, but when she did her shirt allowed the top of the anti-possession tattoo to peak out. Everything was pointing towards the fact that the three were related, but we can’t have any stones left unturned can we?

“Did that book say anything about your dad? A name, a picture maybe?” Sam was anxious.

“There was a letter when the book was first given to me with the initials J.W. but that’s it. I don’t think he wants to be found.” A solemn look crossed her face. “Well, that was fun, but I have to go.”

“Wait-”

“Look, you guys seem nice and it would be cool if we were related somehow, but I have a place to be. You’re welcome to come by though. I’ll give you my number, and maybe we could talk tomorrow. I should have more time seeing that it is Saturday tomorrow. It was nice meeting you Sam and Dean. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

As she walked away, Sam and Dean formed a plan. First, kill whatever monster terrorizing the town, then find out who the hell Y/N Winchester was.

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

So close, but apparently so far. Upon looking in the journal, Sam and Dean found  a new monster, a siren. And though the monster seemed to be a siren, something wasn’t right. The bleeding ears made no sense. No siren case had bleeding ears. However, banshee cases dealt with bleeding ears, but no bodies near water. There was only one answer.

Break time. 

Y/N had sent Dean a message about the bar her band would be at, so the brothers decided to find out as much as they could about the girl before heading there.

“Dean, there’s nothing in the journal and I’ve read through it twice, what else are we missing?”

“Missing...missing...missing! Sammy, you’ve outdone yourself.” Dean reached into his pocket and pulled the stolen letter.

“Dean!”

“What! It slipped out of her journal.” Bitchface. “Okay, maybe I slipped it out of her journal, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that we can compare Dad’s handwriting with the letter. And then you can hack into hospital records to find her birth certificate.”

“I am not hacking into the hospital records.”

“Oh c’mon Sammy, don’t you want to know who she is?”

“Of course I do, but I don’t want to get arrested while doing it.”

“Whatever, just give me the journal.”

Dean was only going to skim over the handwriting before something caught his eye. Information that wasn’t shared lay on the paper. The J.W was obvious on the bottom, but what caught his eyes were his name, Sam’s name, and an unfamiliar one. 

“That little bitch.”

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It took too long, it took too long, it took too long For you to call back And normally, I would just forget that Except for the fact it was my birthday My fuckin' birthday

Sam and Dean entered the bar, a bar that apparently allowed teenagers in, and spotted Y/N on the small stage. They could see why she needed to leave, not only to get them off her tail, but for all the other students partying their asses off.

We got along, we got along, we got along Until you did that Now all I want is just my stuff back Do you get that? Let me repeat that I want my shit back  

“So what’s the plan?”

“One we have to get her away from everyone else. Two, we can’t let her out of our sight. Remember what Cassandra said, the weather aligns with a body being found the next day. And since we don’t know the next victim, we have to hold Y/N hostage somehow.” 

“Where do we take her? She’s not going to abandon her friends Dean.”

“I don’t know, tell her we found something about Dad or her mom. Technically, we’re not lying, so don’t feel bad about it.” 

“Yeah, yeah alright.”

The two parted ways, searching for inconspicuous exits while watching Y/N. Though, it didn’t take long before Y/N spotted Sam. 

“Hey Sam, glad you made it. Where’s Dean?”

“He’s around here somewhere. Look, I needed to talk to you about your dad. We think we found something.”

“Now?”

“Yeah, I mean, if you can.”

“Now’s not really a good time. We can’t pick this up tomorrow?”

“It’s ki-” “Sammy!”

“Oh hey Y/N, mind if we talk to you for a second?”

“I can’t leave-”

“Yeah, but we really need to talk to you.” Dean had a smug smirk holding up the letter. 

“Fine.” 

Outside...

“So Y/N, you got anything important to tell us?”

“Nothing you don’t already know Dean.”

“Wrong answer.”

“Dean-”

“No Sammy, she needs to start telling the truth before someone gets hurt. Like little Cassie’s dad or Jessie’s dad.” 

“What do you want from me Dean?”

“You see, we were here on a case, but I bet you already knew that. Three people were killed, your step-dad, Matthew Jacobs, and Holt Peters, but you already knew that. All three said they saw a girl in white, and what do you know, it was you. We thought we solved the case, but nothing fit the banshee or siren profile. Imagine my surprise when I find my name along with Sam’s and a little gift. Athena Drea, some hybrid between a banshee and a siren. Fits the profile doesn’t it? Oh but that’s not all, Dad knew her, dear old John Winchester knew your mommy. And I’m betting that she disappeared because her time was up. What I don’t understand is your name? Why were you blessed with some form of mom’s name? What is so special about Y/N Marie Winchester?”

Angry tears streamed down Y/n’s face.

“Congratulations Dean Winchester. You figured me out.”

“Y/N-”

“No, it’s fine Sam, he’s right. What’s so special about me? The fact that I have no parents? That I have my mother’s powers? That I’m related to you? Nothing good comes with being me. There’s always a catch. Those people I killed? They tried to kill me first. Those lies about cheating, made them up. Yes it’s sick and twisted, but I’m still alive right? I’m lucky? I tried to protect you from knowing me, from being related to me. Why do you think I never reached out to you? Everyone around me gets hurt. My friends don’t know me like they think they do, I killed their dad! There is nothing special about me, and god if there is, I’d really like to know. Because all I know is that I’m a screw up with no family. So forgive me for running and lying.”

She tried to leave, but an arm on her shoulder prevented her from doing so. 

“You two should go, leave before something else happens. There’s no monster to kill, but I’d gladly let you kill me. That wouldn’t be the worst thing that’s happened to me.”

“Y/N.”

She shrugged his hand off and started to run.

“Y/N!”

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“You were right, I should have never gotten attached.”

It was dark, the only source of light came from the moon. The sounds of the lake calmed Y/N from the harsh argument. 

“People got hurt.”

The quiet brought her peace.

“Some were innocent. Cass and Jessie, they didn’t deserve their family to fall apart.”

It took Sam and Dean quite a while to find Y/N. 

“I met them. Sam and Dean, they seem nice, but I screwed up mum. I lied and I don’t think they like me much anymore. It was nice to know that I had family out there. I know dad told me in the letter, but I didn’t think we would meet. You know how it goes, hunters and monsters don’t mix.”

Sneaking behind her wasn’t easy.

“I don’t understand mum. I don’t know what to do anymore. I can’t stay here anymore. I’ll have to leave and I won’t have anybody anymore.”

“You have us.”

She whipped around to find her brothers awkwardly standing there. 

“What do you two bozos want?”

Sam took the initiative, “We want you to come with us.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re family,” Dean surprisingly said, “and family means no one gets left behind.”

With that, the three had a slightly awkward, yet welcomed group hug,

Hours later.....

Everything was sorted. Y/N was leaving with Sam and Dean, and it was exciting. No more school, Sam sort of disapproved on that. A constant road trip with her family. Although, they would encounter many obstacles in their journey. 

Only one thing was left in Y/N’s mind. She sat in the backseat of the Impala and couldn’t resist it any longer.

“Hey Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you just Lilo & Stitch me back there?” Sam laughed and Y/N started to giggle.

“Shut up.” But he looked out his window with a smile.

She really was a Winchester.

[lovelyirony]

Athena had one (1) intellectual conversation with Maria stark and then handed her baby Tony.

You see now I’m going to write this. 

Maria Carbonell, in some universes, meets a man named Howard Stark. In these universes she falls for his quick wit, his dastardly charm, and the distinct ability to have her believe that he will change back to both of those former traits after marriage. 

But in this one, she is young, running away from a boss who tried a bit too much and she whacked him over the head with a clipboard, and runs into a woman in a very nice suit. 

“What are you running from?” she asks, silvery-gray eyes piercing into her. 

“A man with different ideas,” Maria breathes. “Mind hiding me in your office for a little bit?” 

Athena sees this woman, who is obviously whip-smart, extremely beautiful, and has a good head on her. 

Maria smiles sheepishly at her. 

“I’m Maria. Thanks for saving me. Mind if I treat you to coffee?” 

This turns into a coffee shop visit that lasts four hours, not even the goddess can dismiss the incredulous gazes of the baristas, who stare as the two women wildly exchange hands, draw diagrams on shitty napkins with beautiful pens. 

Athena admires how Maria curves her letters, how easily fluent she is in Italian, Spanish, and French. 

“How did you study so much?” Athena asks. 

They don’t fall in bed together. Oh Maria kisses the absolute hell out of her when she’s at her apartment door, messes up the collar of her shirt and stains red lipstick down the white front, but there’s nothing else. 

Athena has a bit of a thing for the brain. 

Her child (or as Hermes and Apollo like to tease, “brainchild”) arrives, a newborn wrapped in a blanket. Left at Maria’s doorstep, a quick explanation from Athena. 

She watches as Maria blinks, announces “oh holy son of a--” and then really, really stares at this small baby boy. 

“Well, you cannot possibly stay anywhere else,” Maria says. “Only problem is how I’m going to explain how I got to be in possession of a baby.” 

In Maria’s mailbox is a birth certificate, other proper paperwork, and a businesscard from a place called Camp Half-Blood. 

Maria doesn’t see Athena again. She thinks she sees her in the streets and wants to chase her down to explain just why the hell she has a kid. Not that she’s complaining--Tony’s a helluva smart kid. 

His name is Tony. He starts walking and talking early, able to understand concepts that most don’t get until their graduate years of college. Maria teaches him everything she can, at least in the books department. 

It gets trickier when he’s in school. She knows there’s danger. There was a note about monsters. 

“It most likely won’t be a problem,” the note said, in the blocky letters of an architect. Maria has kept the letter, holding it like a guide at nights when she’s not sure what she’ll do. 

The problem isn’t monsters. It’s other kids. Tony isn’t afraid to tell someone exactly what he thinks, and it...doesn’t always translate well. Teachers have Maria in for a conference and pull out their hair when Maria asks as many questions as her son, and most of the meetings end in “well...just...go, tell Tony not to talk in class.” 

Maria treats her boy to ice cream and tries desperately to comfort him when he says he doesn’t have friends. 

Tony knows his mom knows something. Knows it in the way there’s an old paper at the top of the fridge that he’s not allowed to see, knows it in the way that Mom wouldn’t ever let him know who his other mother is. 

“When you’re older,” she says, wringing her hands. “Wanna go get groceries with me, Antonio?” Then he will say yes. 

It’s not until he’s eleven that anything serious happens. But there’s a new substitute teacher in town, and everyone has said she’s been the teacher all along. 

“No, you haven’t been,” Tony says. “You got here a week ago.” 

“Smart boy,” the teacher purrs, taking off her ugly, long leather jacket. Her face has too many wrinkles in it, and the eyes...there’s something about it. “Too smart.” 

Tony is chased by his fifth grade teacher, and races all the way to his mother’s work. 

“Get in the car,” Maria orders, grabbing her eyes. She yells to her boss that there’s a family emergency, so sorry, but she really has to go.” 

They narrowly miss a leathery bat wing to the windshield, and Maria runs over the monster and frantically repeats “Delphos Strawberry Fields” to herself over and over. 

“Where are we going?” Tony asks. “Mom? Mama?” 

“Don’t worry, somewhere safe,” Maria murmurs. “Watch for it, Tony.” 

The monster follows them, and the car weaves in and around lanes of traffic, and they seem to lose her for a moment as they head deeper into a forest. 

There’s a sign. Tony can read it. Which is odd, because usually it takes him way longer to see what something actually says. 

“Your mom...she was different,” Maria answers. 

“What, she was in a cult?” 

“Not...exactly. You remember how I have all of those Greek mythology books? How I’ve been publishing papers on modern effects?” 

“Yes.” 

“Tony, they exist. Your mom is one of them.” 

“Which one?” 

“Goddess of wisdom and strategy, crafts. Don’t say her name. Names have power.” 

She cannot cross the barrier, not until an older teen jogs up, learns her name, and grants her entrance. 

Maria keeps a tight grip on her son. She didn’t learn a lot about this side of the world, about any of it. Athena had made sure of that. 

It’s when they say who has to be Chiron that the adrenaline is almost wearing off and Maria sags into herself a little bit. 

“Chiron, good to meet you. This is Anthony, son of--” 

A sign bursts forth. An owl perched in an olive tree. 

“I see,” Chiron answers. 

Tony has questions. A lot of them. 

“You sure he’s not Hephaestus?” Chiron asks Maria when he’s taken to go see his cabin, learn about this place and see if he wants to stay for the summers. 

“I’m quite sure,” Maria says tightly. “I was left a note from her explaining why I was in charge of a child, where to take him for protection when he was older, and little else.” 

“Sounds like the gods,” Chiron mutters. “Are you worried?” 

“Now that I’m here? No. For the outside world? Yes. I can’t protect my own son, how are these kids...?” 

“We teach them,” Chiron insists, eyes looking far older. He should be looking far older. “I promise you, he will know how to care for himself and others.” 

Maria nods. 

Athena watches over his son and his mother from where she is. Tony’s a smart kid, certainly destined for great things. The way he makes things work, the way that he invents...he’ll be amazing one day. A household name. His mother will be the one behind it. 

And though she can’t say anything, though she tries never to meddle, she will make sure that Tony doesn’t die young. That’s a promise she has to keep for herself. 

[sevensav--d-archived]

50 Headcanons Challenge

Favorite food is raw cucumbers.

As a little kid her school had a little orchestra music group and she was in it, and she played the drums.  She has a really good sense of rhythm.

Her favorite insect is the humble firefly but she also likes purple emperor butterflies, yellow potato beetles, and bell crickets.

She secretly assigns a bug to any person she gets to know.  This is a list that I have somewhere if anyone wants it.

Grew up in a very small village called Bimisari which is a few miles from the ocean, but it sits on a massive lake and has many ponds and swamps.

Nomiko’s green hair was black and fluffy until her quirk manifested.  Now it has the green color and a texture similar to pine needles.

Her best subject in school is probably science.  She has a pretty good memory so she’s able to remember elements and formulas and things like that.

She’s never had a pet, but cats used to hang out around her family’s bait shop and she named all of them and would secretly five them fish.

Nomiko cannot swim.  It not only effectively turns off her quirk, but if the water is cold, it makes her feel sick and heavy and tired.  This is a shame, because she loves going out on boats to  fish.

Nomiko has a sort of earthy smell that follows her and doesn’t go away.  No matter how much she bathes or washes her hair it doesn’t go away.  

On that note she can’t shower as often as most people.  She sort of spot cleans herself, but she can’t fully soak herself that often, because it takes so long for her to dry off and it makes her feel yucky.

Nomiko loves sugary beverages, the sweeter the better!

She’d probably say that Itoshi and Fukumi are her best friends.  She’s never been able to quantify that sort of relationship before meeting them.

Nomiko can and will eat just about anything without much complaint.  She will even eat spoiled food, much to the horror of people around her.

Her room is sparsely furnished.  It features some curtains that Itoshi made her and some string lights Fukumi gave to her.

As far as clothes go, she only has about 6 shirts, two pairs of jeans, two pairs of overalls, and three pairs of shorts.  And probably two pairs of shoes.  She just?? Doesn’t care about how she looks and she just doesn’t have a lot of clothes.

Her favorite kind of weather is very warm, and humid.

She keeps her room pretty humid.  She has two humidifiers that are usually going.

When she gets really excited, she chirps like a cricket!

She doesn’t smile with her teeth very much, because she is self conscious about not having the best teeth.

She has been known to put caffeine shots into her beverages, or mix energy drinks into other things.

Nomiko has always wanted siblings so she could have had someone to spend time with as a kid.  As she’s gotten older she’s glad she didn’t have any.  It could have made things so much worse.

She is surprisingly flexible.

She can use her quirk to fly around.  She has to be at least 50% swarmed to go airborne.

Her clothing cannot be swarmed with her, so her hero costume has a similar composition to Mirio’s in that it’s made with her own dna in mind.  

Related to the previous HC, Nomiko often will remain mostly in swarm after class until she can get somewhere where she can get her clothes back on.

Nomiko’s birthday is March 20th.

Nomiko is currently around 4′8/4′9, and she will never be taller than five feet tall.  She might level out at 4′10.  Maybe.

She doesn’t really take insults about her height or even her appearance all that hard.  If you call her a pest, however, she will take your teeth out.

As a kid Nomiko was made fun of for being poor and being dirty all the time.  Rather than proving people wrong, she just ended up leaning into it.

She is capable of bringing new bugs into her swarm if she can either learn enough about them, or if she physically gets her hands on one. 

Nomiko often makes fireflies appear around her when she’s in the dark.

If you spray her with bug spray, she may have a severe allergic reaction.  Too much could literally kill her though.

She gets a little bothered when people swat bugs or crushes them.  It makes her feel kind of sick to see

She’ll do a lot of crazy shit for a dollar..

Up until being at UA, she’d never really been to a doctor before?  Like when she first got there and got something like a physical done she has no recorded medical history before the age of 15 apart from her birth certificate.

Cigarette smoke makes her feel physically ill.

The little moths that flit around her head are often colored in ways to shoe her emotions.  Bright white ones are fear, light gray are neutral, yellow is happy, green means sick, and blue is sad.  Wasps and bees show up for anger.

Nomiko used to spend hours in the ponds and lakes in her village hunting leeches for her dad’s bait shop.

Nomiko cant enjoy really cold foods or drinks, she’s very sensitive to the cold.  Her favorite way to eat ice cream is with hot fudge.

In her room the only bed stuff she has is one pillow, a fitted sheet, one blanket, and a quilt Itoshi made her for Christmas.

Nomiko has insomnia but she manages it pretty well because even if she isn’t asleep she is very good at just laying still with her eyes closed.  Is that sad?

Nomiko can catch fish without a pole.  She can catch them with her bare hands, or just by holding a fishing line in water.

She has a song that she sings to herself when she’s sad or scared.  The song is “I Walk The Line” by Johnny Cash, but the thing is she does not know the words.  She doesn’t even really know how she knows it.

As an adult, Nomiko works with the commission as little as possible.  She’s legally allowed to practice as a hero but she does not answer to them.  She also refuses to talk to press. (She REALLY leaned into being like Aizawa.)

Nomiko collects loose change in a big jar that she keeps under her bed.  She’s usually looking at the ground when she’s out in the world so as a result she finds a lot of opportunities to find change.

Nomiko is always available to remove bugs from dorm rooms or shared spaces.  She gets it, not everyone loves bugs. However it pisses her off to be pulled from bed at 2 am because there’s a spider in the bathroom.

Discovered her hive mind ability after a frog ate one of her bugs when she was nine and the frog followed her all the way home.

Doesn’t really get scared at horror movies.  They got built up for her since she never saw them as a kid but she was pretty un-spooked. 

 She thinks green tea anything... is very yucky.  It tastes like grass.

[tozierpunks]

re: the losers having kids who become friends

Stan and Patty planned for kids; they were definitely trying before that call came. So when IT is defeated and Stan is a-okay, they finally get the babies they want. Jennifer comes first; she’s a firecracker of a kid. She’s loud and she’s uninhibited and she’s everything that would’ve exhausted Stan as a child. He adores her. He combs her hair at night before bed, and ties ribbons in her pigtails before school, and he’s so incredibly proud to be her father.

After deciding to have their two (and absolutely NO MORE) kids close together, Patty gives birth to little Andrew. He’s very much a follower, and hangs on to his sisters’ every word. She gets them into all sorts of shenanigans, and Andy is a dutiful baby brother. He’s constantly got his thumb in his mouth; which is CUTE.

Stan brags to the other losers that his kids never fight.

Bill and Mike take their time getting together; Billy has a divorce to get through after all. As soon as it’s all said and done though, they start looking to adopt. It doesn’t take long at all -- in fact, it seems like... fate. Whether it is or isn’t, Mike is awed when their little Lucy stumbles through the door.

She has a fairly large burn on the left side of her face, which will become a permanent scar. Her parents died in a car crash, which gave her the mark in the first place. Mike says she looks like an angel, which rapidly gets her out of her shell.

They adopt her as quickly as they can. Then it occurs to them, one CRUCIAL fact they didn’t quite consider: the world............. is horrifically dangerous.

Most of their time is spent keeping Lucy’s curious behind out of trouble. She’s the Tommy Pickles of the kids; danger is her middle name and she also laughs in the face of it. She’s got courage but also... no offense to Bill, but she’s got his Big Stupid. She finds a feral cat and - despite it scratching her to ribbons - she wants to take him home and give him a bath. Mike has to quickly yeet her out of the bathroom and trap the cat inside before calling animal control.

Ben and Bev? They have five (5) kids, which... is on brand. Two sets of twins; Milo and Miles, followed by Olivia and Owen, and then finally their baby, Archie.

Milo Hanscom is a sweet lil poundcake; he’s very much like his dad. If a conversation isn’t going EXACTLY how he mapped it out in his brain, he will turn and walk away with no added explanation. On the other hand, Miles is a lot like his mom. He’ll sneak cigarettes and he’s incredibly smart; he’ll swipe a bag of candy from Keene’s store and sell each piece for a quarter on the schoolyard. Bev has no idea where he gets his income, but she is SUS.

Miles and Jenny are actually best friends; as toddlers, they would go up to each other (sneak up, really), and smack each other on the heads as a greeting.

Olivia and Owen are as close as sisters can be; they have their own language, and both of them are brilliant, scholarly girls. Owen will absolutely stab anyone in the way of her GPA. They’re the masterminds when they’re babies: all those shenanigans the Rugrats get into? Owen or Olivia hatches the plan, and they have their older brothers wrapped around their fingers! So they have the muscle to back up their ideas.

Archie is the super sweet baby child. He is SCARED. Of EVERYTHING. He cried during his first haircut. Animals terrify him. As a baby, he’d sob when the sun disappeared behind clouds. Ben tried playing peekaboo with him once, and Archie was inconsolable bc “WHERE IS MY DADDY?!?” Those kawaii stress balls - the squishy things with cute faces? THOSE are harder than Archie Hanscom.

Finally, we have Richie and Eddie’s kids: Julian and Deana. Biologically (because yes, they chose surrogates), Julian is Eddie’s, whereas Deana is Richie’s. And... it kinda shows through their behavior.

Julian is the first of the Losers 2.0 to say no to his parents. His first word: No his second word: Nah-uh his third word: Nope his fourth word is stinky, but that’s neither here nor there.

HE KEEPS BREAKING SHIT. Ofc it’s an “accident.” How far can this lamp tilt? How much water is too much for the doggie bowl? How much of this lotion and toilet paper can he fit in the toilet? (He counts to twelve, but to be fair, he skips numbers 3-11 cause he doesn’t know those. “1, 2, 12.”) How much Julian can fit through the doggie door? (the answer is half)

Now Deana-- they panicked in the hospital. Eddie grabbed Richie by the shoulders and said, “Every gay couple our age has a pet or daughter named Diana. We can’t name her after the princess.” and Richie goes, “Psh, of course.” and haphazardly scrawls and “e” over the “i” on her birth certificate.

Julian is one and a half years old when he meets his baby sister, and Eddie carried him in to see the newborn infant. Her weird beady eyes terrify him, and his immediate response is to smack her lil face. This instigates their childhood long fight, because they don’t stop for the next thirteen years.

On Julian’s third birthday he asks for them to take Deana back to the hospital bc, “she’s stinky, and I hate her,” and he smiles like :D when he proposes the idea. He’s convinced Deana is broken because she refuses to eat; she’ll suck the salt off fries, and eat a lil piece of pepperoni off the pizza, but other than that, no thanks!

Now when you get all the kids together? Ultimate chaos! Jenny and Olivia lead all the others on their bikes to ride around Derry, and when Miles finds the Barrens, those girls have the brilliant idea to build a clubhouse. Ofc neither of them wanna get dirt under their nails, so they enlist Miles, Milo, Lucy, and Julian. Deana keeps trying to eat the dirt, and Julian is huffy bc he has to stop her.

Archie screams every time a bug flies by, and Lucy gives him her sweater (she knows he likes it, because it’s a pastel green and v. soft), telling him, “My daddy made this for me, and it protects you from monsters, if you believe it does.”

Throughout digging, each of the kids rotate who brings snacks and games. The Hanscom kids always have a great haul (mostly because there’s more grabby hands to raid their pantry), and everyone is so-so when it’s Julian and Deana’s turn, bc the only sugary thing in their cupboards are cereal.

While everyone’s digging (they’re about two feet into the project at this point), Andy and Owen are playing a game of scrabble. Neither of them wanted to get their hands dirty! Much to Owen’s surprise, Andy wins. She’s not a good loser, and she very huffily throws the board a couple feet away. Andy, a patient and good sport, goes to get it, when he falls through the large mound of leaves.

All the Losers 2.0 panic (Jenny “strangles” Miles as she shouts that her parents will be SO PISSED if she let the earth eat her brother), and are relieved when he pokes his little head out from the leaves. He looks excited, and he shouts, “GUYS LOOK WHAT I FOUND!”

Julian puts Deana in her wagon (which all the other babykids ride in too, so Deana, Archie, Lucy, and usually Andy) and pulls them over - with Milo’s help ofc, and Olivia is the first to venture down. She turns on a flashlight and echoes Andy’s excitement, “GUYS, LOOK!”

Climbing down the ladder, one by one, the kids marvel in complete awe at their discovery. There’s a swing, a dusty old hammock, and even a super old-looking stereo. With a little elbow grease, this hole could be turned into EXACTLY the clubhouse they wanted. Their entire summer goes to making the clubhouse a perfect hangout spot.

One night, while the original Losers Club is having a barbecue, Patty asks, “Where do you think those kids run off to all day?”

Ben fondly thinks back on the clubhouse he and his friends created together, and he can only hope his kids find something half as great. “Probably somewhere fun,” he says.

“It’s probably how it was when we were kids,” Richie says, looking at each of his friends. “The best.”

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

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[caleblewis94]

Preview: The Door To Infinity

           Puck was now a forty-two-year-old man who still hadn’t learned his last name due to a grease stain from a slice of pizza obscuring the name on his birth certificate in the no-good year of 1978. Why couldn’t his mother or one of his eleven older siblings have told him somewhere during these last 4.2 decades, you ask? Why because they had all died in an oxygen tank explosion that had completely obliterated the house before the Fire Department could even arrive, of course. What else could have possibly happened? Puck’s mother whose name was literally Mother, and who had once been a nun before she was banned for playing Elton John on the church organ, could actually be called Mother Mother, the mother of Puck, because as the saying goes: once a mother, always a mother. That sure is a mouthful, thank God she’s dead.

Mother returned home from the hospital bringing with her a cart of portable oxygen bottles for her own mother, Mother the first, who suffered from COPD which was exacerbated by the pre-existing condition of being apt to not listen to advice or heed warnings. Upon the delivery of oxygen bottles, Mother Mother the mother of Puck finally thought to cut the umbilical cord. The wailing mucus membrane with the fat, pudgy face of a forty-two-year-old man on the disproportionately large head of a newborn had tripped her on the way up the stairs, reminding her that she had forgotten to “forget” him at the hospital. With a sigh, she cut the umbilical cord with the first thing she could find: a pair of safety scissors. The act was hilarious and took nearly fifteen minutes to complete. Afterwards, she lugged the oxygen bottles in and gave them to her ornery old witch, but minus the cool magical powers, of a mother.

Some say that a mother’s intuition can cause her to feel an impending sense of danger to her own. Perhaps this is why she went lovingly outside, cradling the slimy, writhing middle-aged newborn in her tattooed and cigarette burned arms,  and ever so carefully dropped Puck into the first pile of trash she had found lying by the street, which just so happened to be a random bale of hay in a DIY manger that her neighbors had attempted to assemble after purchasing it from Ikea before growing frustrated and throwing it half-finished in the street. One can say this motherly intuition saved the baby named Puck that would one day grow up to become the man named Puck. Then again, her motherly instinct didn’t seem to apply to her other eleven comically-named children.

Mother Mother, the mother of Puck, went back inside her home. Puck no longer cried. Now he sat in the Ikea manger with his arms crossed and his lower lip jutting out. This would become his signature look which would make him quite popular, albeit for mocking purposes, with all of the former high school football stars who would form the majority of his coworkers at the glue factory in his adulthood. Moments after his mother entered the house behind him, he would hear, though he wouldn’t understand because he was a baby and everybody knows babies can’t understand words, his mother shouting at his grandmother in her obnoxious twang of a Country accent that Puck would thankfully never acquire himself.

“God Dayum, you old bat, Cain’t you read?” Mother Mother, mother of Puck shouted.

“I can read, you little skank. I’m just having me a cigarette,” Shouted Mother, mother of Mother Mother the mother of Puck.

“I’m tired of you smokin’ meemaw!” Shouted the shrill voice of one of Puck’s siblings. Judging by the whiny tone, it wouldn’t be unreasonable to assume it was Kyle.

“That’s too dayum bad.”

“The sign says no smoking, because it could explode if exposed to fire!” Mother Mother, mother of Puck shouted back.

“Then why hasn’t it yet?”

“Comical effect!”

In completely coincidental, and in no means embellished or made-up fashion, the entire house exploded immediately after the joke in the dialogue was wearing thin. The sound of the explosion sounded to Puck like the winner to the 1978 Darwin Awards if they were around in that terrible, no-good year of 1978. Kaboom with a capital KA.

Now, it’s reasonable to ask why Puck? Why this ugly, slimy, miniature spitting image of Donald Trump? Why did this little clump of living smegma survive in lieu of his entire family being incinerated instantly like a bunch of redneck Icaruses that flew directly into the sun because they didn’t believe the Science that said the sun can hurt you? It is because of a thing called fate. Puck wasn’t meant to die that day. For, you see, you beautiful reader, you, Puck was destined for greater things, like developing a nicotine habit he couldn’t quite kick, working in a glue factory overseeing the melting of the horses, and his destiny to die in a hilarious accident involving a shopping cart at the age of 42. As a wise man once said, so it goes.

∞

           Puck, now a forty-two-year-old man full of past traumas and experiences that shaped him into the disgruntled, burned-out, and inconsiderate grump that people subconsciously hoped would drop dead, went to the supermarket. What he bought at said supermarket holds no importance whatsoever to the rest of the novel, but for the record was; 19 bushels of crab legs, 30 cans of Ragu spaghetti sauce, 20 gallons of vegetable oil, 12 cartons of increased fat milk, 8 sticks of extra-salted butter, 57 liters of Mountain Dew, 3 bottles of Coca-Cola that had been stuffed under the clearance shelf since 1958, 5 jugs of eggnog, despite it being the middle of April, two of those obnoxiously bright blue lightbulbs for some reason, and a Milkyway Lite because he was trying to watch his figure.

           Puck pushed his shopping cart outside. Of course his luck would have had him picking the cart with the broken wheel, causing it to limp along like a sprinter who had torn their ACL and was desperately trying to hobble their way across the finish line. Plus, the fact that he had so much food weighing down the cart didn’t help him steer it any easier. Life was so hard for poor Puck. On his way to his car, Puck was passed by an old lady on one of those automatic shopping carts that truly highlighted the pinnacle of modern invention. The old woman was smoking three cigarettes at the same time, blowing tendrils of smoke through her nostrils like a dragon who had already expended all of his (or her) fire and couldn’t ejaculate any more. She had an oxygen tank on the back of the cart, though she wasn’t using it. Maybe she’ll need it later, Puck thought. Yes, riding an automatic shopping cart around a store for an hour sure is exhausting work.

           Puck got to his car and popped the trunk, which promptly swung open much faster than normal, hitting him in the chin because even his car was tired of his shit. In the background was the sound of an explosion, but Puck thought nothing of this. He flung the groceries in the trunk and shut it back, then he promptly took the shopping and left it right there in the middle of the street, despite there being a coral only twenty feet away. It wasn’t that Puck didn’t see the coral—he did—he just decided to rebel. It was his way of sticking it to the proverbial man. Puck got in his car and drove home, the shopping cart looming menacingly in the parking lot, vowing to get revenge on the forty-two-year-old-man.

           When Puck got home, he realized that he had forgotten to also purchase a diet Mountain Dew, because—how can he watch his figure without a pound of aspartame in his system?—Puck lovingly kissed his wife goodbye, and by lovingly kissed his wife goodbye, I mean he didn’t kiss her goodbye, he simply said “I forgot something, be back in ten” then left. However, he wouldn’t be back in ten. In fact, he also wouldn’t even be back at the supermarket in ten, traffic was awfully heavy for two in the afternoon on a Sunday. Also, he wouldn’t ever be back because he would be killed in a tragic, yet hilariously Shakespearean way. A way that said, maybe there is a God who occasionally involves himself in the affairs of humans to deliver righteous justice.

           Puck went to the self-checkout line again, but this time at least he actually had under ten items. He hated the small talk Cashiers would make with him, especially the pretty twenty-something-year-old ladies who would make blatant attempts to flirt with him by saying things like “Good morning, sir,” “Paper or plastic?” and, worst of all, “Would you like a receipt?” The total on the screen came up to three dollars and twenty-three cents after tax. It was a bit more than he thought it had cost when he was just here half an hour ago, but he was trying to watch his figure, dammit, so he would not and could not be stopped. He paid for the bottle, and also a banana, and left, not even bothering to take the receipt that had printed from the machine.

           “Have a nice day,” said a blonde and blue-eyed nineteen-year-old with a smile that conveyed anything but a genuine smile inside. It was a smile that seemed to say that this young lady was going through her own personal troubles and was having a tough time but was trying her best to be strong and kind to others. To anyone else it would be inspiring, but to Puck it was just another attempt to flirt with him. Puck, not wanting to be rude, gave her that kind of sideways smile any suburban white person would give someone they accidentally made eye contact with in public, and walked by, sidestepping a random broken piece of an oxygen bottle by the door. As he crossed the windy threshold that separates the land of groceries from the humid, suburban air of the Greater Atlanta Area, he swallowed the banana in one gulp. It was a fun party trick he had learned in college. He didn’t have to waste time chewing, and everyone loved it. Especially the random man he had accidentally made eye contact with in the process of the great swallow.

           Puck walked out into the crosswalk without looking both ways, not that he needed to look both ways, there were stop signs and everybody in the United States obeys stop signs. He dropped the banana peel absentmindedly onto the ground and made his way towards his car.

           As Puck approached his car, he bumped into the shopping cart he had left sitting in the street—not the corral, mind you—thirty minutes prior. The cart rolled forward towards him, ready for its vengeance. If it were alive and wielding a knife, it would totally stab Puck right in the abdomen. For far too long Puck had violated its shopping cart family’s rights of life, liberty and the pursuit of being put back in the corral. But, luckily for Puck, it wasn’t alive. It was a shopping cart. In frustration with this minor inconvenience, Puck pushed the cart further into the street with one swift kick.

           “I should have used a basket,” He muttered to himself.

           However, the shopping cart heard him make this remark. Or it would have heard him if it were alive and had ears or some other method for processing auditory information. And if it were alive and capable of not just processing auditory information but also understanding English, this comment would have been the last straw. The shopping cart would teach him a lesson if it were alive. Puck was so lucky it wasn’t alive.

           Puck turned back to his car and fished for his keys in his pocket, except the keys weren’t there. What the hell, Puck thought. I just had them! He checked his pocket again as if he could possibly miss a keychain the size of Timbuktu, and to his utter shock, the keys hadn’t pulled a David Copperfield and magically reappeared. He turned back around to head into the store and angrily ask the poor girl behind the customer service desk if anyone had found and returned his car keys, as if she were the one herself who had misplaced them. However, before he could do so, something glimmering beneath the partially clouded sky caught his eye. His car keys lied in the bottom basket of the shopping cart that, after being kicked, scampered away before settling eighteen feet away from Puck and just a measly two feet from the corral.

           You got him now, you devious shopping cart you, the corral would have thought if it were alive and capable of thought. With a long, drawn out sigh, Puck crossed the street. He removed the keys from the lower basket and glanced at the corral which was now literally not even out of his way to return the cart to. The shopping cart was already facing towards the corral like a baby reaching out for its mother. Puck didn’t even have to walk forward at all to return it, all he had to do was lightly push the cart and it would be back in its rightful place. Puck didn’t do this. Instead, he took the cart and placed it back in the middle of the street for some reason, and then went back to his car.

           This would have been the final straw for the shopping cart if the shopping cart had any packets of straws left to give, never mind the rude comment about getting a basket instead. Oh, if only the shopping cart were alive and capable of inflicting punishment upon this horrible man with an even horrible-er—or, dare I say—horrible-est name. Puck? More like duck, the shopping cart would have thought, not that the cart would have any prejudices against ducks, it was just a slightly speciest saying it would have learned growing up in a family of shopping carts in the Southern states.

           Suddenly, like a car that had hit a pothole at 110 miles-per-hour, causing it to flip over multiple times before flying into a tree, a car driving at 10 mph, ignoring the 5 mph speed limit sign on the wall next to the cross walk, struck the banana peel Puck had left in the middle of the street. The car going twice the speed limit, lost control and swerved to the left, ironically enough while using a blinker. The out of control car collided with the poor shopping cart with an unquenchable thirst for blood and vengeance at the devastating speed of 2 mph. Puck turned around in time to see the accident.

What, scientifically speaking, should have sent the cart forward with the same force as the weak kick Puck had given the cart minutes earlier, oddly enough launched the cart at the speed of 200 mph directly at the man who never put his carts back in the corrals where they belong. Puck didn’t even have time to realize the error of his leaving-shopping-carts-in-the-middle-of-the-street ways, before the cart flew directly into his face, causing his head to explode like the 125,452nd watermelon destroyed by the great philosopher Gallagher, splattering blood all over a man walking past who had made the foolish mistake of wearing a white t-shirt over-confidant in his ability to avoid acquiring a stain, and sparking the obsession with blood of a three-year-old who was watching the whole scene unfold through a pair of binoculars from his parents’ house across the street.

Puck, the youngest son of Mother Mother the mother of Puck, and the youngest grandson of Mother the mother of Mother Mother the mother of Puck, was dead, though his story and misadventures wouldn’t end there. It was a tragic death. Nothing that has ever happened in human history has ever been more tragic than the death of Puck on that cloudy April day in the year of whatever year this is being read in. But don’t be sad—stop crying, society says it’s not cool to cry with empathy—for there was a sign that he had read thousands of times before that read: Please put your shopping cart up, we can’t afford another fatal accident. So, if it makes you feel any better, Puck kind of deserved it.

[thrill-cfthechase]

tl;dr: elliot is sad about her mom, elliot’s birth and how she got her name

august 17th, 2018

sunset mobile home park, santa rosa, ca

elliot has never had a clean room in her life. there might have been a week when she was six where there had seemed to be order, but besides that it was in a state of unending chaos. there were clothes and sports equipment and trophies and candy wrappers. there were papers that seemed to exist for no reason but that elliot still couldn’t manage to get rid of. and there was a box of her mother’s things that had gone untouched for nineteen years. she had some of her mother’s belongings, like the moth-eaten sweaters she found in the closet and a journal that had been under the couch for god knows how long. but this box seemed to have hidden itself behind raincoats and a bruce lee poster, and now sat in front of her covered in a thick layer of dust. she had been content to leave it that way forever, but tomorrow she would leave her father’s home in a jeep cherokee older than she was and drive into the unknown. or, more specifically, to virginia and to gallagher. she just couldn’t leave a piece of her mother behind.

she opened the box, fanning away the cloud of dust that formed. on the top there were homemade vhs tapes with masking tape labels on the side: tucker’s first birthday, forrest’s first words, tucker’s first soccer game, halloween 1997. elliot set them to the side, she would have them converted into dvds later. but it was the kind of home movie she’d already seen. all the kids in the neighborhood running through a hose and laughing, her mother’s smiling face as she carried a candle-lit cake for her brother’s birthday, her brothers doing silly things while her parents watched through a lens and made commentary about how much they loved them. the last home movie they had was labeled november 1st, 1998. her mother was sitting on the couch with tucker and forrest on either side of her. each boy had a balloon tucked underneath their shirts so they could look just like mom and the three of them held their large bellies and laughed. elliot must have watched that one a hundred times as some sort of punishment for the fact that three days later she would be alive and her mother wouldn’t be.

underneath the tapes was a baby book. at least, it looked like it was supposed to be one. her name was on the cover, but it was empty except for the sonogram on the first page and a few labels that showed only blank pages. there were photo albums chronicling her brother’s childhoods, dozens if not hundreds of pictures of toothless smiles and skinned knees. there had never been many pictures of elliot when she was little. some days her father couldn’t bear to look at her, let alone take a picture. but every once in a while her brothers would get a hold of a disposable camera and capture gems like elliot with a face covered in chocolate cake on her first birthday or a beaming five-year-old elliot accepting a yellow belt in karate. it wasn’t uncommon for the youngest sibling’s childhood to be less documented than their older siblings. sometimes it hurt, and sometimes elliot was glad she could forget. beneath those she found more sweaters and she instantly stuffed them into her suitcases, not caring if they fit or if they were clean or if she even liked them.

at the very bottom of the box lay an envelope, tucked underneath a fold of cardboard. elliot pulled it out, her fingers coated in decades old dirt. there was no writing on the envelope - no name, no date, no address. maybe it wasn’t hers to open, but it wasn’t anyone else’s, either. she peeled it open as carefully as she could and reached inside, pulling out a letter. she instantly recognized the handwriting as her mother’s, and before she had time to think it through, she unfolded the piece of paper and began to read.

Dearest Baby,

I didn’t always know that I was going to need you, but as soon as I knew you were coming I understood that this family wouldn’t be complete without you. I have been waiting for you for a long time now and I think you will be here soon. We weren’t expecting you so quickly but you seem to want to come into this world and I am just so happy that I’ll get to meet you. Getting to know you in the past seven months isn’t quite the same, but it has been wonderful nonetheless. We have a bond, you and me, and it is more than just an umbilical cord. Sometimes I think I should learn morse code because I'm sure your kicks are trying to tell me something. I really did look into it, which you might think is silly, but the library didn’t have any books about it so it was a moot point. Maybe your kicks are symbolic. You want me to know you are strong and that even though this pregnancy has been hard, you’re going to keep fighting. If you are reading this, you are grown and you will know that there are things I have not been able to give you. I’m sorry for that. But I hope by now you can see that I love you and your brothers with all my heart and there is nothing I wouldn't do for you. I wish there was more I could say to you, but I'm very tired and sometimes I feel like words fail me. I just hope that I’ve shown you how much I love you every single day, and this will just be a funny little reminder. 

All My Love,

Mama

p.s. I’m sorry I addressed this to ‘baby’ and not to you. I know what your name will be, but I’m afraid to jinx it. You know how superstitious I can get.

elliot has always taken pride in the fact that she rarely cries. crying was for babies, her brothers taught her that at a very early age. no one needed to know what she was feeling. sometimes even elliot didn’t know. but now she was crying, hard, tears gushing down her face, nose running, breath caught in her throat. she let the letter out of her grasp and it floated gently to the floor. the paper seemed too light and airy to contain words that affected her so strongly. her tears were silent - she didn’t want to wake her father on the other side of the wall, sitting on the couch in front of the tv with a mostly-empty twelve pack littered around his feet. there was a weight on her chest and a knot in her stomach, guilt and grief and loneliness. she had been loved once, truly loved, by a parent. she had never been sure if her father was incapable of loving her or he simply didn’t want to. her brothers loved her more than she thought she deserved, but it was never quite the same. she had heard people say there was nothing like a mother’s love, and elliot had ruined her chance to have that with her very first breath. she picked the letter back up and blew away some of the dirt. she tucked it into a pocket of a suitcase where it would be safe. elliot wasn’t sure what she would do with it, if she would ever even open it again, but she knew she needed to have it.

 november 4th, 1998

santa rosa memorial hospital

it didn’t feel like the first two. she’s been on bedrest, and this one has come earlier than the others - almost too early and she’s worried - but there is something else. something feels different. the doctor reassures her and she trusts them, but the worry doesn’t fully go away. it hurts, it always hurts, and maybe this time is no different. she takes the anaesthetic. this is her third baby, she has nothing to prove. her husband holds her hand and she cries and she keeps reminding herself that it will all be worth it. and suddenly a baby is there, gross and beautiful in an incomprehensible way. the baby cries but she laughs because she did it. it’s the hardest thing she’ll ever do.

they hand him the baby and he looks at it like it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. “it’s a girl,” he hears, voices muffled by the adrenaline pumping through his veins. he looks up at his wife beaming. “it’s a girl,” he repeats, and he thinks he sees a flicker of a smile on her face before the color is drained from her cheeks and doctors rush to her sides. suddenly there are shouts and beeping and everything is happening so fast that he can’t comprehend what’s going on in front of him. he just stays in the corner, eyes glassy as the world seems to move in slow motion and the baby in his arms begins to cry. a nurse takes the baby and three more take his wife to the operating room. forty minutes later she is dead and he is empty and there is a baby somewhere that will need him. but he needs talia, and as he walks like a zombie from the maternity ward to the postnatal ward he feels like he can’t do this without her. he knows it. when he arrives, the baby is wearing a pink hat and a breathing tube. but she will be just fine, they say. it’s procedure for most preemies.

he has to fill out a birth record. in two weeks it will be processed and he’ll go to city hall to pick up a birth certificate and a social security card because this baby is here- an impossibly tiny person, asleep two feet away in the hospital nursery. a nurse hands him a pen and it quivers in his hand. he looks at the forms through bloodshot eyes, cheeks stinging as a painful reminder of  his tears. they have  already written down her height and weight: 16 inches, 5 pounds 10 ounces. a little small, but she’ll be just fine, they say. he has to fill in the rest: baby’s name, date of birth, parent’s names, and address. most of it is simple: november 4th, 1998, henry chase, talia lilly chase, 2963 santa rosa avenue, santa rosa, ca. it’s the first, and most important question that has him stumped. what could he possibly name his baby girl? all the names they had considered were for a son. he thinks of his home, where tucker and forrest are waiting with their neighbor mrs. mahoney - what was he going to tell tucker and forrest? - and of the book talia had left on the kitchen table. it was going to be a baby book, already equipped with a page for her son’s first smile, first crawl, first words. and he thinks of the cover, where stickers spelled out the name talia had chosen. elliot. it’s not a bad name, he thinks. and suddenly the answer seems so clear and he writes it down quickly: elliot talia chase. he looks at his baby girl and he’s crying again, but this time the tears fall not only out of sadness, but also out of joy.  

[commandervisor]

I think one of the most wildest meta/headcanons/theories I've ever come up with so far about Scooby-Doo is that in Mystery Incorporated, the circumstances of Fred's birth must have looked really interesting to everyone outside of Mayor Jones and Brad and Judy. 

In "All Fear the Freak", we learn that Mayor Jones was a college student (and, according to Tony Cervone, he was a college instructor for a couple of years, shortly after graduating) when he first came to Crystal Cove, so the earliest age he could be is 18-ish. At some point during this time, he meets the original Mystery Incorporated, and things go from there. 

Now, let's remember what has been said about Fred's "mom" in "A Haunting In Crystal Cove". When Scooby sees the picture of Fred's mom, Shaggy and Fred say that she's “Fred's mom”, who "left" when Fred was a baby. 

But it was never outright stated that she was ever Mayor Jones's wife, and she "left" and characters act like maybe she'll come back and/or she's worthy of being remembered, as opposed to having already accepted that she's not coming back and being bitter about it. Arguably, there was never a circumstance in the show where they could say she was "Mayor Jones's (ex-)wife" without making it sound weird; usually, if you're talking about your friend's absent mom or dad, you call them that as opposed to their present mom or dad's spouse.

Later in the episode, Fred says that he's into making traps because he wants the people he loves to stay with him and not leave like his mom did. Now, traps are made to catch things before they can flee. While yes, Fred does use traps a few times outside of that purpose (like dragging Daphne into an investigation while she was sleeping), you could interpret this as Fred's mom leaving Fred with Jones because she was afraid of being a parent.

See where I'm going with this?

Mystery Incorporated has fun poking at teen genre tropes, particularly the ones of teens and young adults, uh, going through hormonal stuff and having no idea what they're doing and facing the consequences for that.

So... what I'm saying is that the general public thought that Fred was conceived from pre-marital... relations.

Jones has not been seen hanging around this apparent lady friend for the past nine months. Unless he claimed that it was information he kept to himself (which is possible, since he's been shown to be a private individual, keeping secrets and all), it looks like Fred was born from a brief fling, maybe even a one-night stand.

(Also, I'm gonna say as a note that Jones probably forged Fred's birth certificate and everything and said that the ex dropped the documents off with him. There's also some suspension of disbelief I'll have to ask you to do, since this is still a cartoon and a fictional story. 

Additionally, I doubt that Mayor Jones would have forged a marriage certificate and divorce papers, because then he'd have to forge a whole ton of other documents (perhaps even photos, which is probably beyond his ability) and proof that it happened, maybe even create a documents for a fake adult person. It's too time-consuming and he could easily screw up somewhere, allowing someone to catch on. It’d be easier and quicker to say that Fred was, uh, an accident, and that the mother is “gone”, whereabouts unknown. That way, the dead ends will discourage anyone that’s nosy enough to try looking into it, like Fred, who, like any other kid, would inevitably ask “Where’s my mom?”.

Going off of that, she’d probably also fall under the definition of being a deadbeat mom, since there’s no proof (that Mayor Jones had forged) that she pays for child support either.) 

It would also contribute to Fred's issues with his "father", because his father never intended to have children as Fred was an accident, and that's why he sucks at parenting and he never quite went through the process of maturing into a better parent either.

I have no idea how this would have affected his reputation for his college instructing and his mayoral campaign - he probably wouldn’t have gotten under scrutiny because it might not have been a big deal, but given that the people of Crystal Cove are shown to be rather apathetic, it's possible that most people didn't really care and voted him in either way. 

But, I think it's also part of why the Blakes don't like the Jones (I say part, because there's more obvious reasons that I'll maybe address at some point, but not another time). They don't like Fred, because they think he's stupid. In "All Fear the Freak", when Fred and Daphne announce their engagement, Mrs. Blake blames Mayor Jones for "this". If he had properly parented Fred, none of this would be happening. But... maybe there's also some background to that.

As far as the Blakes see it, history is repeating itself. A young couple is making a rash life-changing decision based on love and emotion. And while their daughter may have some terrible judgment, it's less of her fault and more of her man's fault. Their daughter's lover is a boy who is the RESULT of this kind of love story ending badly — he got his foolishness from his father, and meanwhile, his mother ran off and severed connection with them because she regrets the whole thing. 

Even if Jones was already mayor by then (I’m pretty sure you can’t be mayor for that many consecutive years, or it’s at least difficult to do, but maybe I’m wrong and there’s also some cartoon logic on the side.), it’d still look kinda weird that some girl he knocked up a few months ago in some fling dumped their kid on him. So that point still stands. 

But I guess in the end, it didn’t really matter that much. Fred finds his real parents, the universe is reset to him having never been kidnapped, and none of this happens. It’s still pretty crazy, though. And maybe I’m just overthinking this.

tl;dr: The public thinks Fred was illegitimate, it was evidence that Fred's parents are terrible parents because one sucks at parenting and the other is a deadbeat, the Blakes think that Fred is dumb because his parents suck and he's gonna repeat history with their youngest daughter, Mayor Jones probably figured “I accidentally had Fred with a girl I liked for a while and she dumped our son on me.” is a better and easier cover story in case someone sticks their nose in places they shouldn’t.

[multishipperlove]

More from this lovely sastiel AU (shhh, I know I’m the only one who cares about this) bc I wrote this months ago, when I also posted the first thing, but meh... I’ll never complete anything written in my LIFE so might as well post my ramblings here.  Complete backstories for this AU under the cut: 

Sam and Cas meet at a support meeting for single dads or single parents in general. Claire is four, Jack just turned three a few days ago.

Sam and Jack – Sam met Jack's mother, Kelly, while they were both still at the beginning of their college careers. Jess had just died, leaving Sam grieving and not quite as emotionally stable as he would have liked. Due to this, and some other problems (drug use? Sam and Kelly both getting their fixes from Ruby, Sam sobers up after the whole pregnancy thing, realizing he's slowly loosing control. It takes time and a shit ton of effort, regular AA meetings, but he's probably never been as proud of himself as he's after “getting over” his addiction. He's aware that Kelly might not have made it), their relationship never really became serious, always being an on-off sort of thing. The pregnancy was definitely not planned. They talked about it, a lot, considering what possibilities they had and what they wanted to do. In the end, they made the decision to get an abortion. They agreed to split the costs and that Sam would drive her, as well give her all the support he could, emotional and otherwise. But the morning he arrived to take her to the clinic, she was gone. The only thing left was a letter, telling him she'd changed her mind and not to come looking for her. Nevertheless, Sam was worried sick and wanted to find her, if for nothing else than to offer child support or something. He took the letter to the police, but was told they couldn't do anything since she'd gone away willingly. During the next couple of days, weeks and months he kept trying to contact her, but kept running into dead ends. Eventually, he decided to stop trying.

About two and a half years later, when he was almost done with law school, she suddenly returned. One Saturday evening he opened the door to see her with a crying toddler on her hip, looking completely exhausted and Sam quickly realizes that she's probably also still using, or using again. She all but drops the baby off with him, telling him it's all too much and if he keeps screaming, she might hurt him. Before he can even ask for the little guy's name, she's gone.

The next few days are a blur and an eternity at the same time. He finds an envelope in the box she dropped off, containing some important papers and Jack's birth certificate. Jack is also the name stitched into the baby blanket the toddler won't let go off, and seeing the shaky stitching, Sam's pretty sure that Kelly did that herself. The next morning he goes shopping, and after that he drags Jack to every person who thinks might be able to help him. There's so much he needs to worry about, custody, whether the boy's going to stay with him or not, what the legal situation is, if the child is well, if he can even afford a damn kid because he still has six months of law school left and god knows it's not getting easier after that. It's Tuesday when he realizes he hasn't even called his brother yet, or any of his friends, and after dialling his brother's number with shaking fingers he has his first breakdown. But Jack has just fallen asleep in the new crib in his bedroom, so he tries to keep it quiet. Luckily, Dean already knows about the whole story with Kelly and seeing how freaked his little brother is, he manages to stay calm. He tells their “uncle” Bobby, the man who took them in after John threw them out, and asks for a few days off to help Sam get settled. Or find an adoption agency, whatever he needs. Bobby feels like he wants to yell at Sam for not calling sooner and tells Dean to get going.

Later, after being called to come back in by a doctor, Sam's told that Jack shows some symptoms that could come from drug consume during the pregnancy. However, without Kelly there to tell them what she took, they can't be sure and will just have to see how Jack develops. Cue Sam's second breakdown. After that, Sam notices that Jack is a bit slow at times, needing more time to understand things than other kids, and doesn't do well in social situations. He's a clingy kid, and at first very shy. Later he gets over that a bit but still remains socially awkward and too naïve for his own good at times. “I was almost sober for nine months, it was hell!”  “'Almost'?!”

After about six months of living with the kid, Sam wouldn't give him up for anything. He's fully accepted his responsibility of being a parent and loves Jack with all his heart. Jack often asks for his mother, but with time it becomes less. Sam has a feeling that it's not the first time she's dropped him off somewhere without coming back for a while. He picks up his studies again, after having taken a leave for a few months, his professors/boss thankfully being understanding, and things seem to get back to normal. Bobby and Dean are already attached to Jack as well.

Then, in the middle of the day this time, Kelly is suddenly back. And she demands that Sam lets Jack go with her. Sam refuses, naturally, and tries to talk to her at first. About how much better Jack is doing in a stable home, how he'll need special care with some things that Sam will be able to provide once he's found a job, and how much he loves the kid. But Kelly starts to get hysterical, and eventually he's forced to throw her out. She threatens him, telling him she'll take it to court and that Jack is legally hers. As soon as he hears that Sam panics, suddenly realizing that he never did, in fact, look into the legal situation. Which is beyond stupid since he's a lawyer. So he rings up an old friend who went into family law and who knows about his situation, asking him for advice. At least until he can make an appointment with someone else, because right now he's desperate. When the first letter from Kelly's lawyer arrives, Sam's prepared.

The custody battle takes years, and Kelly refuses to give up. It's still going by the time Sam finds himself at the first support meeting, and he's still afraid that he'll have to give Jack up despite knowing that it would be ridiculous and that no judge would give Kelly sole custody after what she's done. He also tries not to take Jack to court appointments with him, knowing it's not fair on the little boy. He's offered Kelly early on that she can come and visit them though. So far, she hasn't.

One day his baby sitter calls in sick, or with an emergency of their own, and Sam isn't able to get a replacement in time for the court date. Not knowing how to help himself, but remembering that one of the other parents in the support group (a remarkable hot parent, but he tries not to think about that because what the fuck Sam, that guy lost his wife not too long ago) gave him their number to set up a playdate, he eventually calls Cas. Cas is more than happy to help out. Since Sam and him are both new in town, new in the support group, and their kids are almost the same age, he'd been hoping to hear from the man. If he can help out, all the better.

Sam doesn't know that, of course, and feels incredibly guilty for dropping Jack off at the other man's house. Once he gets back from the appointment, obviously exhausted and mentally drained, Cas even invites him to stay for dinner (since he just got done anyway, and oh, what a coincidence, he made too much). Sam keeps thanking him during the dinner and promises to make it up to Cas, maybe with a coffee or two when he's got the time. Neither of them is aware of the accidental flirting, like the exhausted idiots they are.

Cas and Claire – Castiel Jimmy Novak married what he thought to be the love of his live, Amelia Everett, when he was 18, because they were both from conservative families. And living together, out of wedlock, is a sin. They even bought a house, getting them several hundred thousand dollar of debt. And for a while, they were happy. Cas got a job as an accountant (he's good with numbers) and Amelia agreed to stay home and take care of the household. She was never really happy with that though, and things quickly started to go south when she wanted to take a job as well. Cas, as the head of the household, didn't want to feel like he couldn't take care of his family, and this was only one of the issues which kept coming up in their fights. But being the good Christians that they are, they wanted to make things work out and were willing to work on their marriage as well, even if it wasn't perfect. Their efforts were renewed once Amelia realized she was pregnant, and they were happy once more. Head over heels, actually. But Cas' blind faith as well as his blind obedience when it came to his own father or his boss still worried his wife, and she knew it wouldn't last.

And just like she had expected, about a year after Claire was born, everything took a turn for the worse again. Cas started to get more aggressive, yelling at her or even the kid when something didn't go his way, demanding obedience from her and dragging them around as if they were his property. She knew it wasn't right, and her friends kept telling her that it was abusive, and that her husband had some serious problems. Nonetheless, she stood by him. Until about another year later, when he started yelling at Claire, yelling at a two year old, at the table because she'd dared to reach for the food before they'd said praise. Trying to stay calm she'd gotten up, gathered her daughter and told Cas that she was leaving. He'd tried to stop her, of course, but he had never gotten physical. Which she was thankful for, otherwise she wasn't sure if she'd made it out that night. She knew her husband was going through a crisis, but that was no excuse for the way he'd been acting. She was able to stay at a friends house at first and told Cas that, if he ever wanted to see her and their daughter again, he'd need to change.

That was the first time Cas realized just how much he'd fucked up. He had known before, kind of, always feeling guilty after treating her like shit. He'd thought of his own mother, and how he'd sworn that he wouldn't become his father. Apparently, he'd failed in that regard. A few days later he called his family, to tell them what happened, only to learn that Amelia had now been shunned by her parents for being a disgrace of a wife and that both her parents and his parents were on his side. After a heated discussion with his father, that he didn't want their support and that he deserved what she'd done, that he was glad that she'd gotten Claire out of the house as well, he really decided to make a difference. First, he moved out of the house so Amelia and Claire could move back in. He got a small apartment and send every penny he could spare to his wife and child. And he started therapy, knowing full well (after already having gone through a bunch of psychology books as a teenager) that he wouldn't be able to break his own cycle of abusive behaviour without help. It took a lot of time, and several set backs, but eventually Amelia started to trust him again. At least she knew he was trying. Six months after Claire's third birthday, they agreed that he could move back in with them. The day before he did, Amelia was killed in a car accident.

Once again, Cas' entire world was shattered and this time he was the only one left to pick up the pieces. His family had turned away from him after he'd gone off at his father, and he'd never managed to find friends where he lived. Claire had always been a handful, and he had no idea how to raise a child on his own. For the first couple of months he stayed in the house with her, only going to work and to therapy, which helped him over the worst. Then he got a job offer in a different city, and the pay he was being offered was just too good to pass it up. So they packed their things, he promised Dr. Churley to find a new therapist, and off they went. Finding a therapist wasn't easy, but at least he found some support groups which he was sure would get him over the first couple of months. One that dealt with anger issues (though he mostly had that under control by now), one for depression, one for survivors of child abuse and... and one for single parents. And he thought why the hell not, he could need all the help he could get at the moment. At least one of these groups had to be good, and maybe even one good group would be enough.

When he got to know a certain Sam Winchester at his first group meeting, he was convinced that it had been the right decision. (Maybe later, Cas introduces him to the group for child abuse survivors as well because he realizes that Sam's got issues too)

Also, they'll both freak out a bit about being attracted to each other. Mutual Pining, naturally, with both of them thinking the other is straight.

Cas has issues because of his faith, Sam has issues because his bisexuality was one of the reasons he and his brother had to leave home. When John caught him kissing another guy in his room when they were supposed to be doing their homework, he'd freaked out. It had been one of the worst beatings Sam had ever gotten from his father, and that was saying something. Dean had found him at their secret hiding spot, still bleeding and trying hard not to cry his eyes out. For a moment, Sam had been afraid of his brother's reaction as well, but Dean had only hugged him and promised him he'd be save now. Then he'd loaded him into the Impala and driven them to Bobby, who'd already been waiting with open arms. Beyond a few overheard phone calls which mostly consisted of yelling, that was pretty much the last thing Sam had ever heard from his father.

[somewhereapart]

Survivor's Guilt

Author’s Note: Phoenix-verse. Regina has second thoughts about going through with their escape plan. For OQ Angst Fest Saturday, Prompt #23: I can’t just sit by and watch you suffer

Review on Ao3 or FFnet

She’s staring at her passport, wearing someone else’s borrowed clothes, her face scrubbed clean.

They’d gone to great lengths to get their hands on this passport, to liberate it from the home she shares with Leo without him discovering that Regina is, in fact, alive and not dead under a smoldering pile of rubble like so many others. They’ve been watching the news for three days, nonstop it seems like. Watching the news, and talking quietly, and making plans to get her out of the city. Out of the country.

It’ll be harder now, they’d agreed. Security is tight and taking a one-way trip with a fake passport isn’t something they’re willing to risk, so they’d had to get this one back for her. Had had to steal it (who knew charming, polite Robin had such unsavory friends?) with stealth and skill and without Leo noticing until they’re long gone.

But they’d done it, Neal had done it, and now the moment of truth is here. They’re supposed to be leaving, supposed to be driving South, borrowing the car Neal never uses anyway and heading down to Atlanta to meet up with another questionable friend named August who will be able to forge her passport, her birth certificate, anything else she might need to build a new identity.

She’ll leave from Atlanta as Regina Mills, land in Marrakech as Regina Mills, and then Regina Mills will disappear. If Leo ever manages to discover her passport was used to leave the country, the trail will end in Morocco. She’ll meet up with Robin’s old friend Jasmine there and then head together for London using her fake passport and her new name. Her new life.

They have a plan, and it’s time to get in the car. Time to go.

But they’ve been watching the news for days, learning the names and faces of the people who died in the buildings they’d narrowly escaped, and Regina just… can’t.

“Are you ready to go?” Robin asks her, his hand as gentle on her back as his voice is in her ear.

Regina swallows thickly and says, “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can do this.”

“Regina—”

“People are dead, Robin! Real people. People were murdered in an act of terror—people we knew—and it seems unconscionable to pretend that I was one of them when I’m not. It’s an insult to their memory.” She shakes her head, drops her passport back onto Neal’s cheap kitchen table and rakes her fingers through her hair. “I don’t think I can do this.”

She can see his frustration in the clench of his jaw, the flare of his nostrils, the tired tilt of his head—and she can’t blame him, she supposes. They’ve had this conversation at least daily, and he always brings her around, but now… Now, it’s real, and…

“If you stay, what are you going back to?” he asks, not unkindly, but very much like he knows the answer she’s going to give. So she just scowls at him, and waits him out. He doesn’t disappoint: “A man who uses you as a punching bag whenever you do something he thinks is wrong, or the day doesn’t go his way, or… You’ve been gone for three days, after surviving something that—yes, you’re right—killed hundreds upon hundreds of people. You haven’t called, haven’t checked in, and there’s not a scratch on you so you weren’t in hospital or trapped somewhere for days. If you go home right now, what will he do?”

Regina crosses her arms tightly over her chest; she knows the answer to that, and it involves a vice-grip on her biceps and raised voices, bruises she’ll have to cover with concealer, and that slick, oily fear in her gut as she wonders how bad it’ll be this time.

Robin knows it, too, or at least she thinks he does. After all, the bruises from the last time are still fading on her forearm.

He’s touching her with gentle hands, now, rubbing up and down her biceps, cupping her elbows, asking, “Will he be so grateful you’re alive that he overlooks all that? I’m asking, sincerely; I need to know. Because I can’t just sit by and watch you suffer, Regina, and if he will hurt you, I…”

Robin shakes his head, and looks at her with so much imploring affection and concern that it makes her chest ache.

He’s trying to help her. He’s trying to save her from this hell she’s trapped in. And she should probably let him, but…

“I know that this is ugly, and I know it feels wrong,” he tells her. “But it’s a way out. If you didn’t want it, I don’t think you’d have let it go this far. And I can’t really speak for the dead, but I cannot imagine there’s a single soul lost who would look at you and say, ‘No, you should stay a punching bag for some narcissistic prick because your fake death offends.’ You should live your life, Regina. You should have a chance at a life without fear or abuse. Those people, they died, but you didn’t—you survived. So go live. ”

Regina chews her lip, tears swimming in her eyes; blinking to clear them only lets the tears escape. He’s right, she thinks. She could have a life somewhere, she could be free...

Regina wipes away the dampness from her cheeks, pushes down the pervasive guilt, and reaches for her passport again.

She grips it tight, looks at Robin, and says, “Let’s get out of here before I lose my nerve.”

[ficdirectory]

Disuphere Universe Miniseries: The Early Years: Pearl

When Pearl is born...well...that’s when Paris’s whole world changes.

He’s always wanted to be a dad, see.  And wanting that made him too eager to marry the first woman he thought he could start a life with.

Carla’s younger, sure.  Twenty to his thirty.  But they got along.  Had fun together.  She was such a nice person.  Everybody said so.  Everybody in town.  Carla had a reputation for being well-liked.  She was fun.  A free spirit.  So, pregnancy got her down a little bit.  Morning sickness and all that.  

When they got the first ultrasound?  Their baby was nothing but a tiny speck.

“Just like a little Pearl,” Carla had remarked.

“Honey, we don’t know if it’s gonna be a girl or not.  Right now, it’s just a baby.”

“Oh, she’ll be a girl, all right,” Carla had said in that way she had of convincing everybody around her to listen to her.  “She’ll listen to me because I’m her mom.”

Sure enough, Carla’s right.  They’re having a girl.  Even though Paris suggested the name Evangeline, after his great grandmother who raised him, Carla had scoffed and Paris had tried not to show how deeply her reaction hurt.

“She’s a baby, Paris.  I don’t want her named after some old lady from the 1800’s.  It’s 1983!”

One afternoon in June, Paris gets home to find Carla gone, and a note, left on the door, in Carla’s handwriting:  

“St. Joseph’s.  Baby.  Water broke at store.  Hurry.”

Paris doesn’t remember making the drive to the hospital.  Stopping by the receptionist’s desk.  Being told Carla West was in labor and delivery, and he was welcome to wait in the waiting room.

He just remembers pacing.  Pacing and pacing and pacing.  Trying  to tune into the news on in the corner about how there’s about to be a U.S. woman going up in space for the first time.

Paris finds himself thinking of Pearl.  Imagining possibilities for her.  She could be an astronaut someday.  Paris is not naive.  He knows this is not an ideal world.  But he would like to make it as close to one as possible for his daughter.

It’s just after 9 PM when somebody comes to speak to him.  Informs him that he has a beautiful baby daughter.  He goes to Carla first, who asks him to go write the baby’s name out for the birth certificate:

“Pearl Marie,” she insists, spelling it out for him like he’s not, in fact, ten years her senior.

(He knows, very well, that Marie is Carla’s grandmother’s middle name, as well as her own.  Her hypocrisy in this strikes him like a blow.)

“I got it,” he answers, and walks out of the room.  To the nursery, where a nurse holds up his tiny baby, Pearl.

He takes a good look at her, crying and perfect.  God, Paris has never seen a more amazing baby.  He taps on the door, and asks to come and have a closer look.

“Please, I’m a new dad,” he all but begs.  “Carla West’s my wife. Just had a baby girl.”

“Of course.  Baby Girl West is right here.  Does she have a name yet?” a nurse asks, picking up baby Pearl and handing her to Paris to hold.

“She sure does.  Her name is Pearl Evangeline West.”  He takes his time.  Spells it carefully.  Knows it will be a few days before Carla knows anything, and by then, it will be too late to change it.

“Marie means bitter, baby, and you are not bitter.  You are a bringer of good news.  Just like your great, great grandma was.  Yes, you are.”

In his arms, Pearl stirs and opens her eyes, squinting at the bright lights.  Her tiny hand finds his big old finger.  Grabs on.  Holds tight.

“Hello, Pearl.  I’m your daddy,” Paris tells her, soft.  Gentle.  He feels filled with certainty that this will be the greatest thing he will ever be.  The biggest job he will ever have.  His most important responsibility.  “Are you gonna be an astronaut?” he asks.

Pearl yawns.  Her eyes fall closed.  She’s still holding onto Paris’s finger.

Somewhere, a nurse snaps a picture with a Polaroid camera.  Paris in a rocking chair.  His arms full of sleeping baby Pearl, clinging onto his finger.  When he knows he’s been gone too long, Paris reluctantly puts Pearl back.  Tucks the Polaroid into his jeans.

Goes back to Carla.

--

On June 12th, they come home, a family of three.

Carla is exhausted, and still angry about his giving the ‘wrong name’ for Pearl’s birth certificate.  Paris is a pretty patient guy.  He’ll blame her current mood on the hormones.  

“It ain’t the wrong name, honey.  It’s her name,” Paris points out.

“It’s Pearl Marie.  I told you,” Carla snaps.

“I can take her.  Hold her for a bit,” Paris offers.  “You can get some rest.”

“Oh no.  Who knows what else you’re gonna do?  Change her birth date?” Carla jeers, holding onto Pearl tighter, so she fusses.

“Carla, that’s not…  Come on…” Paris hates that he’s all but begging to hold his own baby.  But what else can he do right now?  Might as well let Carla simmer down a little.

--

Turns out, there is one huge chunk of time where Carla cannot be bothered to hoard baby Pearl.  And that’s anytime between about 8 PM and 8 AM.  So, Paris is up at 10 PM, and midnight, and 2 AM and 4 AM, and 6 AM.  Heating up formula.  Changing diapers.  Singing to Pearl.

It’s exhausting, especially as there ain’t no such thing as paternity leave.  So he’s got to be out the door at 8:30 AM to work a full day, after making sure Carla’s awake to take the baby.

But the half a dozen times Paris is up at night?  That’s their time.  When Pearl looks wide awake, and smiles at him at 4 AM, Paris can’t help but smile back.

It’s these times, late at night, while Pearl’s taking her bottle like a champ that Paris talks to her about himself.  (“Confession time, baby, your daddy? Is smart.  And that’s how I know you’ll be smart, too.  Maybe not book-smart like your old dad.  But maybe you’ll be people-smart.  Or street-smart.  Everybody’s some kind of smart.  Including you.”)   He tells Pearl about his family, knowing just how little Carla likes to associate with them.

But if Paris has anything to say about it?  Pearl is gonna know where she’s from.  Her family.  Her people.

--

Things start to decline in the marriage, even while Pearl flourishes.  

Standing at 6 months.  Full on running 3 months later.  Never even crawled.

She talks for the first time at 9 months old, running up to Paris as he arrives home from work with an exuberant, “Hi, Dada!”

Paris scoops her up, and greets her, equally happy to see her.  “Hi, Pearl!  How you doin’?  You good?”

She nods, and wraps chubby arms around his neck.

(Carla, of course, is livid that Pearl’s first word is not Mama, like it “should be.”  Paris tries to ignore it.  Tries to protect baby Pearl from the onslaught of negativity.

Pearl’s two, speaking full sentences and reading The Cat in the Hat like a pro.  But Carla seems completely unprepared for what to do when Pearl reaches her end at McDonald’s one afternoon.  She wants to play on the playground and doesn’t seem interested in eating her food.

“I’m gonna slide and merry-go-round,” Pearl tells them, as Paris manages to convince Pearl to eat one French fry by covering it in ketchup and offering it to her.

“God, Paris.  She’s two years old.  She’s not a baby.”

Paris sits back.  “Do you hear yourself?”

“I’m gonna slide and merry-go-rooouund!” Pearl insists.

“After you eat your food!” Carla snaps, in a mocking voice.

Though, she’s just a toddler, Pearl knows when she’s being teased.  The lip comes out.  Her eyes fill with tears.

“Pearl, McDonald’s is a treat.  If you can’t be happy, we can’t come here anymore,” Carla warns.

Paris’s heart breaks, as he watches Pearl, unable to keep it together and at naptime, no less, breaking into tears.

Carla wastes no time scooping her out of the booth and carrying her to the car.  She falls asleep on the drive home.

--

The next time Paris is coming back from work, he makes a stop at a local store and cases their toy aisle.  Until he finds what he is looking for.  A grumpy Care Bear with a sad cloud on its front.  Paris buys it, knowing some things, you gotta make an exception for, even if money’s tight.

Carla’s getting her hair cut a few hours later when Paris gives the toy to Pearl:

“This is for you.  I know Mommy told you you had to be happy all the time--”

“--or no McDonald’s,” Pearl remembers, sad.

“Right.  But this right here?  This is a special friend named Grumpy Bear.  See, how he’s not smiling?”

Pearl studies the bear, concern showing in her eyes.

“Well, that’s because Grumpy Bear wants you to know if you’re grumpy, you can tell him.  Or you can tell Daddy, too.”

“He can’t go to McDonald’s…” Pearl says, regretful, cuddling the bear.

“He absolutely can go to McDonald’s,” Paris corrects her, gentle.  “But how about, before we go, we talk about what’s gonna happen when we get there.”

“Okay,” Pearl agrees with a smile that melts Paris’s heart.  He talks her through how they’ll tell what they want.  Then, they’ll get their food.  Then, they’ll eat their food, and then they’ll play on the slide and the merry-go-round.

He writes it all on a receipt in simple words.  Gives it to her to carry.  He can hear her talking to Grumpy Bear in the car:

“Don’t worry, Grumpy.  We get to go to McDonald’s.  We don’t have to be happy all the time.  See?  Look at this list.  This is what we’re gonna do.”  She shows the bear the list, talking him through all the steps.

When they get there, Pearl still wants to slide, but Paris is able to reason with her, by making quick work of ordering their food and then pointing out that they’re already one step closer to getting to play on the playground.

He occupies her by asking if she can read NO SWEAT, written on his hat.  She correctly reads NO and almost reads SWEAT.

“No sweat means something is easy,” Paris explains.

“Not hard?” Pearl checks.

“Not hard,” he confirms.

“That’s why your hat says NO SWEAT?  Because going to McDonald’s is easy?” Pearl asks.

“That’s right.  Know what else is easy?” he asks.

“What?” Pearl asks, standing Grumpy Bear on the table.

“Loving you.  You’re such a good girl.  You’re smart and kind.  You’re curious.”

“Like Curious George!” Pearl pipes up.  “Pearl was curious…” she quotes, except that line originally had George, the monkey’s name in it.

“That’s right!” Paris laughs.  “And you can have all the feelings you have.  Because feelings are good.”

“Okay, Daddy,” Pearl beams.

Their food comes.

They eat.  

He catches her as she slides down the biggest slide.

Pushes her on the merry-go-round.

She falls asleep again in the car on the way home, but at the end of a much better day.

--

It’s two years later.  October 24th, 1987.  

Pearl’s four and has just started kindergarten.  Paris has spent the last couple of years talking to lawyers, and anybody who will listen about his situation.  About the state of their marriage that has only gotten more and more awful.  About the effect that it’s having on Pearl.

But it’s no use.  Everyone he talks to says if he divorces Carla, custody will likely stay with her.  No judge awards it to fathers unless there’s significant abuse or neglect.

And even though he’s glad it hasn’t gotten that bad, he also knows, the verbal and emotional wounds Pearl has already, thanks to her mom, will last.  Even though they don’t scar, the damage will be there.

Paris thinks long and hard about what to do.  Actually has Pearl in the car.  Just picked her up from school.  And it would be so easy.  So, so easy to just drive away with her.  To let Carla find the papers in the mail when she gets home from work today.

But Paris can’t do that.  So, he talks to Pearl on the way home, like always.  Tells her he loves her.  Tells her he will see her later.  Gives her a kiss.  And drops her off with the neighbor, who babysits her while he and Carla work.

“Bye, Daddy!” Pearl calls, smiling.

“Bye, Pearl.  I’ll see you real soon.  I promise.”

(But he doesn’t.

Carla’s madder than a wet hen when she finds out about the divorce.)

And what’s worse?  As he’s pulling into a motel for the night?  He finds Grumpy Bear, on the floor in the back seat of the car.

Paris brushes him off.  Brings him inside.  He’ll go to the post office in the morning.  Mail it first thing.

It just doesn’t seem right that Pearl be without her favorite toy.