#tried a peanut butter jelly sandwich for the first time and it was good

[m-eowdy]

... why was it a banana doing the peanut butter jelly dance? why not a peanut? or the fruit used to make to make the jelly? why a banana?

[togrowoldinv]

Meeting the Team

Carol Danvers x Female Reader

Carol brings Monica and Kamala home to take refuge for an evening and to meet her wife. Fluff ensues

Note: I was just thinking about Carol having a secret wife and the lovely Monica and Kamala meeting her. Enjoy this one!

Carol Danvers Masterlist, Main Masterlist

You’re stirred from your sleep when you hear the sound of a ship landing near your house. You hope it’s Carol’s.

When you hear the sound of the front door unlocking, you roll out of bed and walk to greet her in the front room.

She’s in her suit but it looks a little worse for wear. Carol catches sight of you and the weight falls off her shoulders.

“Hey sweetheart,” Carol says softly, a smirk rests on her face.

You cross the room quickly and pull her into a hug. She flinches due to her own soreness but keeps hugging you anyways.

“Are you okay?” You ask her, grabbing her face in your hands.

“I’m okay,” she says.

Her eyes are determined. You realize she’s here just for a short time to regroup or gather some information.

“I missed you,” you say.

“I missed you,” Carol replies.

You lean in to kiss her but you stop short when you see two women, or rather one woman and one teenage girl, walk in the door behind her.

“Carol?” You alert her to the presence.

“It’s okay,” Carol says. “We’re- well I guess we’re a team.”

“We are so a team,” the teenage girl says.

Carol tries to hold back a smile but you see it on her face that she likes these teammates. She turns around and holds you by the waist.

“Y/n, this is Kamala and Monica,” Carol says.

“Wait, the Monica?” You ask. The woman’s eyes flash to Carol’s at your words.

“Yeah,” Carol says. “Our powers are entangled.”

“Right, okay. It’s nice to meet you both, come on in and make yourself comfortable,” you say.

They move to sit on the couch. Carol goes to the bathroom to freshen up first.

“What was your name again?” Monica asks you.

“Y/n,” you supply. “I’m Carol’s wife.”

“Oh my god,” Kamala says, mostly to herself.

“What?” You ask.

“Oh, she’s just a fan girl,” Monica explains. “She’ll be writing fanfiction later about Carol having a secret wife.”

You chuckle at the girl’s antics. You can’t blame her for loving Carol enough to want to create new versions of her.

“Carol and I got married a few years ago,” you say. “But we really haven’t been able to spend much time together. Planets need saving and all that.”

“Sounds familiar,” Monica says.

Carol enters the room and sits down next to you with a sigh. You want to ask more about her reuniting with Monica but that’s for another time when it’s just the two of you.

“Do you have powers?” Kamala asks. You realize this girl has a talent for breaking awkward silences.

“I do not,” you say. “Although, wrangling this one in should be considered a power.”

“Wow,” Carol says. “I’m offended.”

“Don’t be, baby,” you say. You kiss her cheek and she tries to hide her blush. “It’s a privilege to love you. Even when you run off to space for months at a time.”

“You could go with me if you want,” Carol shrugs.

“Nope. That’s your world up there. Not mine,” you reply. Carol only smiles. “Are you guys hungry?”

“Starving,” Kamala answers. “I mean no, we’re good.”

“Come with me,” you tell her.

You lead the girl into the kitchen and let her take her pick of food to eat. She settles on a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Kamala asks you a few questions about Carol and your relationship. She seems genuinely excited with every answer she receives.

Monica and Carol are in the living room still. You don’t hear much talking, so you make Carol a sandwich and go get her.

“Babe, I made you a sandwich,” you say. “Please eat at least half. I know you haven’t been remembering to eat a lot.”

“I’m fine,” Carol says. “I get enough.”

“Go.” You leave no room for argument. She sighs and goes to the kitchen. That leaves you alone with Monica.

The woman is sitting on the couch. You know from her vantage point that she can see the framed photo of Maria that Carol keeps on the shelf.

“I’m sorry to hear about your mom,” you say, not really knowing what to say.

“Oh, thanks,” she replies.

“You know I think Carol has some more pictures around here somewhere,” you say. “Maybe next time you come by we can look for them.”

“Yeah,” Monica says noncommittally.

“Do you need anything? A drink, food, medicine?” You ask.

“Thank you. I’m okay,” Monica says.

“Are you sure? I can tell Carol is sore so I can imagine you all are,” you say.

“You can tell that about her just from looking at her?”

“From the hug. She flinched,” you explain. “She never admits she’s hurting, but I know she is. Although, I do see a part of her healing. Probably from reuniting with you. She seems happier.”

Monica nods. She knows that this has meant a lot to Carol. It means a lot to her too, but right now she’s still a bit hardened to the idea of being in her presence again.

Carol and Kamala come back into the room before you can say anything else. You help show them where to sleep and then end up back your bedroom with Carol.

She changes into some pajamas and snuggles into bed next to you. You rest your head against her shoulder.

“How long?” You ask her.

“Just until morning,” Carol replies. “I need to fix a part of my ship. And I wanted to see you.”

“How are you doing with this whole Monica thing?”

Carol takes a deep breath. She hasn’t really had time to stop and think about it.

“I’m okay I think,” she says. “I’m good. It’s amazing how she’s grown up to be so wonderful.”

“Yeah? She has powers, that’s insane.”

“I know,” Carol says. “I didn’t know that until I saw her with Fury. She’s really a great person too. I definitely couldn’t keep Kamala as safe without her.”

“What’s the deal with Kamala? She’s a kid who loves you?” You ask, a chuckle escaping from your lips.

“Apparently,” Carol sighs. “But I really don’t feel like I’m a good role model for her. Maybe she’s seeing that in the choices I’ve already had to make in front of her.”

“Hey, you always do your best. Sacrifices are necessary. You know that, baby,” you try to encourage her. “The way that girl looks at you definitely makes me know that she looks up to you.”

Carol kisses your head and rubs a hand over your back. It’s slightly warmer than normal, meaning she’s using her powers to help you relax.

“We need some sleep,” Carol says.

“We do,” you reply. “Hey, don’t let me forget to tell Kamala in the morning about how we met.”

“Oh god, she’s going to write a story about it,” Carol says. “Whatever fanfiction is.”

“It’s fantastic,” you reply.

“You know what it is?”

“Of course, babe.”

“And you’ve read it?” She asks. You nod. “About me?”

“No,” you laugh out. “I don’t need to when I have you already, my love. Although, I do need some new content.”

Carol grins mischievously. She’s sent you countless videos, pictures, and voice memos over the years. But it has been a while since she has done that for you.

“Tell you what, when this thing is over I’m coming back home for a while,” she says. “And we can spend our time doing whatever we want.”

“I’d love that,” you say. “Goodnight, my love.”

“Goodnight, my beautiful wife,” Carol replies.

You kiss her lips for a few minutes before you both feel the weight of sleep fall over you.

When you wake in the morning, you spend a few more hours with Carol, Kamala, and Monica. The goodbye is always hard, but you know Carol will come back to you. She always does.

[ptolemaeacles]

pls write more for hazel omg i loved the cheerleader hcs maybe like a childhood best friends to lovers so lots of pining and smut maybe

♡ you belong with me

pairing: hazel callahan x fem!reader

synopsis: hazel has had a crush on her best friend since they met in the 1st grade. they were freshman in college now and hazel realizes she can’t keep her feelings to herself anymore.

warnings: 18+ minors dni (both reader and hazel are 18), smut, childhood best friends to lovers, switch!hazel, switch!reader, top!reader, bottom!hazel (no pun intended), let me know if i missed anything!!

notes: aw thank you !!! im glad you liked the hcs. also small disclaimer, i'm a horrid smut writer and i rushed the ending because i didn't want to keep you waiting. hope you like !!!

word count: 2.5k

“god, i’m so excited. i mean this is the first time a girl has asked me out. usually it’s guys who approach me and then i get weird comments when i tell them i like women…” you rambled on but hazel could barely focus. she could only feel the empty pit in her stomach. 

you were so happy to be going on a date and all she could think about is if you would ever be this excited to go on a date with her. she tried to convince you to not go but there was only so much she could do without giving her feelings away. 

hazel thinks she’s loved you since the day she met you. before she knew what ‘love’ meant or what it looked like, she loved you. to her, you were the very definition of that word. 

hazel’s hopeless crush started in the 1st grade. it wasn’t some cute interaction where one of you saved the other from a bully or something. it was simple with the both of you. it always has been. 

you came up to her during lunch and told her you would give her half of your sandwich if she agreed to be your friend.

“what kind of sandwich is it?” hazel asked, from her seat on the lunch table.

“peanut butter and strawberry jelly.” 

“i’m allergic to strawberries.”.

“then don’t eat it and just be my friend.” you sat next to her without another word and the both of you left it like that. simple.

since then, she knew she would never escape you. and she never wanted to. but right now, she felt like if you didn’t stop talking to her about this date, her head would explode. 

hazel watched you walk around your room, shuffling through your closet for an outfit to the movies with the girl who asked you out. she never bothered remembering the girl’s name because she thinks it would the whole situation worse for her. she didn’t want to know anything about that girl.

“...and she said we’ll get ice cream later which i hope-” hazel interrupted you.

“hey, i think i should get home. my mom’s probably wondering where i am and shit, so… i’ll see you later.” hazel wanted to get away as soon as possible. not from you but from the giddiness she could practically feel radiating off your body at the thought of your date. 

“oh.. i thought you told your mom that you were going to study at my place after classes?” you questioned. hazel’s quiet behavior didn’t go unnoticed by you. she was always quiet but after more than 10 years of friendship, you could tell which silences were good and which weren’t. this definitely wasn’t a good one.

“yeah well, we aren’t studying so. i’d better get going, bye.” she spoke in a flat tone, with her head down, as she grabbed her backpack and made her way out of your room.

you stood still, staring at the open door of your room and wondering if you had done something.

hazel walked into her house, red in the face and a vicious grip on the doorknob. she ran up to her room, and threw her backpack in a random corner, probably knocking her guitar down. but her guitar was the last thing on her mind. 

she was pissed at you. mostly herself but you as well. she knew she had no right to be angry at you but how could you never see that hazel was right there. she was right in front of you, waiting for you to even glance in her direction. it’s all she wanted. to be the one who makes you laugh, the one who you’d think of when you saw romantic tiktok slideshows, the one who took you out on rollerblading dates, the one who got to kiss you before dropping you off back to your house, the one who got to slide her hand up your skirt, the one who got to be in between your legs-

she groaned and loudly, flopping onto her bed and stuffing her face in her pillow. she needed to apologize before her stupid feelings ruined your friendship.

hazel had a plan. she was going to go to your house after your date and apologize. apologize for being a dick, apologize for falling in love with you, apologize for every and anything she could apologize for so that you wouldn't hate her. she expected you to yell at her or ask her what was wrong with her. what she didn't expect was you to be calling her phone, right now.

she pressed the green 'accept' button and put the phone up to her ear.

"haze.." she could hear you sniffling through the phone, "i-, uh, can i come over, please? my date- it just- it went horribly and i really want to see you. please." hazel felt her heart drop 10 stories.

"yeah, yeah, i'll come pick you up, angel, where are you?" she questioned.

"outside your house."

hazel ran down the stairs and opened her front door, to be met with your red eyes and puffy face.

you immediately wrapped your arms around hazel, burying your face in her chest. her hands went landed themselves in your hair, stroking it gently in an attempt to comfort.

hazel helped you into her room, setting you down on her bed.

"do you want to talk about it?" she asked softly.

"she- she, um, she stood me up." you could barely get a sentence out without hiccuping. hazel reached over to her nightstand and pulled out an unopened water bottle, unscrewing the cap and handed it to you.

you whispered a thank you and took a few sips. it was hazel's turn to speak now.

"fuck her," you give her a confused look, "oh no, not fuck her, don't do that, i meant that you should just forget about her. she obviously isn't the one for you if she stood you up, and there are so many other people in the world-"

"hazel."

"yes?"

you didn't waste anymore time. you grabbed hazel's face in your hands and crashed your lips into hers.

hazel was sure this was a dream. there was no way you were kissing her right now. she definitely fell asleep and she's imagining this whole thing.

while hazel was having her loser lesbian crisis, you noticed that the kiss wasn't being reciprocated.

'fuck.' you thought. you just ruined your closest and longest friendship. you pulled away from her.

"shit, haze, i didn't mean to do that, i'm not sure what i was thinking-" you started but were quickly shut up when hazel pulled you back in for another kiss.

relief flooded your body. she wanted this. both of you wanted this.

hazel felt you smile into the kiss and took that as her 'go ahead'. she tilted her head, deepening the kiss. shyly, she moved her hand from her lap to your waist. you moved one of your hands to the side of her neck and the other in her hair. you could practically feel her pulse beating rapidly under your palm.

hazel gained a newfound confidence and pushed you back onto her bed, slotting herself between your legs. her lips hovered over your neck before attacking your neck with sloppy kisses. her lips trailed down your neck, making sure to savor the taste of you. her lips met the fabric of your blouse.

"can i take this off, please?" she asked in a breathy manner, as if she had just ran a marathon. you nodded, at a loss for words.

“need to hear you say it, baby. need to know you want it just as bad as i do.” hazel wasn’t aware how raspy her voice was, as if she hadn’t drank water in days. 

“take it off, haze, please. take it all off.” you whispered and caught her lips with yours while she lifted your top off your body. once she had your top thrown in a random corner in her room, she went straight for your pants, not even bothering to take her own clothes off. 

“fuck, hazel,” you were breathless, “i want to see you, too.” you swallowed, gripping the beige button up she was wearing, hoping she knew what you meant.

“you will, princess, don’t worry. i just want to focus on you right now, okay?” you nodded, not fully sure what ‘focusing on you’ meant.

hazel had you in just your bra and underwear, her eyes scanned your body hungrily. if this was a dream, she prayed she remembered every single moment when she woke up. you were better than any fantasy she could conjure up on those lonely nights, when she couldn't think of anything but you. 

you felt her strong gaze settle on your body and you felt self conscious thoughts take the forefront of your mind. you raised your hands over your body, starting to think hazel didn’t want you like you wanted her.

“hey,” hazel grabbed your hands and gently pushed them to your sides, “you have no idea how long i’ve wanted you like this. how many nights i’ve stayed up thinking about you.” hazel started kissing down your neck, making her way to your chest. 

she pulled your bra down, not even bothering to fully unhook it before latching her tongue down onto your right nipple. 

the wet feeling of her mouth made you cry aloud, completely forgetting her mom (and jeff, too, probably) were a few feet down the hall.

hazel lifted her mouth of your tit with a pop, moving her hand to squeeze it instead.

“i’d love to hear you, angel, but i need you to be quiet,” she feverishly pecked your lips, “just tonight, hm?” you murmured a response, more concerned with the ache between your thighs than anything else. 

you guessed hazel read your mind or something, as she started moving down the bed towards the place on your body that needed the most attention. she looked up to you, as if asking once more, if this was what you really wanted. 

“haze, please.” you whined. that was all the confirmation she needed. she slid your panties down slowly, watching a string of wetness connect your pussy and your underwear. hazel felt herself growing wet at the fact that she did this to you. it filled her with a new sense of confidence. she didn’t even wait for your panties to completely slip off your legs before diving in between your thighs.

your back arched off the bed the moment you felt hazel’s tongue make contact with your swollen bud. she slipped her wet muscle throughout your folds, desperate to catch every single drop of wetness she could.

“fuck, haze, feels really fucking good.” you moaned and brought your hand to the back of her head, gripping her hair between your fingers in ecstasy. 

she hummed in response to the praise you were giving her, sending vibrations throughout your core that nearly made you choke. hazel continued to suck on your clit, holding your thighs apart with her hands hooked under your knees. she slid her face side to side with her tongue flat against your pussy, moving your clit with just the right amount of pressure. 

you felt a pressure building in your lower belly and tried to move hazel’s face closer to your mound to chase your release. 

and she stopped. 

you lifted your head from the pillow and stared at her kissing your thighs, before going to unbuckle her own pants. 

“wait hazel,” you put your hands on top of her jean button, “can i?” you spoke so quietly, hazel barely caught what you were saying. she nodded her head, unsure of what else to do.

you gently unbuttoned her jeans before sliding them and her boxers down and allowing hazel to step out of them. you lifted her button up over her head and unclasped her bra, letting them fall onto the space on the floor next to her. she was in awe of you. you were so gentle to her and she would never believe she deserved it, even if you reminded her of it everyday for the rest of her life. 

once she stood completely naked in front of you, you led her to lay down on bed, stomach facing up, before separating her legs and hooking one of your own over hers. 

you looked at her face for any sign of discomfort, only to be met with the rapid rise and fall of hazel’s chest and her eyes shut in euphoria. 

“hazel,” you caught her attention, she stared right at you, “keep your eyes on me.” you lowered yourself gently, placing your clit right on top of hers. both of you let out a sigh of relief at the feeling of your juices mixing with the others.

placing your hands on her stomach, you moved slowly, rocking your hips back and forth against hers. hazel struggled to keep her eyes open, getting lost in the pleasure you were giving her. she always thought of moments exactly like this and imagined it being a lot different. she imagined that she would be the one on top of you, taking charge and pulling orgasm after orgasm from you. but after feeling the movement of your hips against hers and the way your breasts bounced slightly when you would pick up your pace. hazel fought her hardest to keep her eyelids from drooping. she didn’t want to miss a single move you made.

you quickly found a steady rhythm and went faster, prompting hazel to cry out. you leaned down and caught her moans in a rough kiss. 

the familiar coil in your belly seemed to get tighter and tighter. hazel must’ve noticed the way your hips started to rock faster and knew you were about to cum.

“c’mon, cum for me, baby. give it to me, i’m almost there too,” she started rambling as she felt her orgasm approach her as well, “keep going, just a bit faster, angel.” both of you fought to keep your moans from being heard from anyone else in the house.

“fuck hazel, i’m cumming, i-” you were cut off as your orgasm hit you in waves. warmth spread throughout your body, making your limbs weak and causing your legs to nearly give out. 

you kept going, over stimulating yourself, trying to get hazel to reach her orgasm. by the looks of it, she was on the edge. her baby hairs stuck to her sweaty forehead, her face scrunched up in pleasure as her back arched into the air. 

“fuck fuck fuck fuck-” she rambled as her orgasm washed over her, quickly quieted by your mouth capturing hers. 

the both of you gently rode out your releases, breathless and sweaty. you carefully lifted yourself off of hazel and laid next to her on the bed. 

“we should talk about this, you know.” hazel started.

“we will. in the morning, i promise. for now, i just want to be with you.” that seemed to be enough for hazel.

you draped your arm over her waist, pulling her closer to you. she tucked her head in the crook of your neck and the both of you drifted off to sleep.

[restinslices]

Everything pt4 (FINALE)

PJO Show Ares x Child!Reader (no gender specified)

Word count: 6772

Summary: It’s been years since you’ve spoken with your father, but with Kronos’ armies marching and the final battle approaching, you have one question on your mind. If you survived this, would it be too late to mend what was broken? Unbeknownst to you, Ares is wondering the same thing. Warnings: Spoilers for The Last Olympian (not too big though), giving Hestia a power idk if she has for the plot, angst, OOC Ares but y’all know this already

You know what sucks more than daddy issues?

The world ending. 

Both are seriously draining but the world ending? It was a real bummer. Not only was it a bummer, but it was incredibly confusing. You expected to be actively in battle right now, not being made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich by Luke's mom. 

As shady as it sounded, you couldn't understand for the life of you how Hermes had fallen in love with her. She looked as if she had been electrocuted multiple times and the smile she wore reminded you of something you'd see in a horror movie. Looks aside, sandwiches and cookies were rotting in her house and it smelled like something had died. You couldn't see Hermes being here. 

“Ms. Castellan” you began as nicely as possible. “I'm not Luke. My friends aren't either. This is Percy, Nico and I'm Y/N. We're…” the people that want Luke dead. No. You couldn't say that. “We're friends of Luke. That's all”. She seemed to understand what you said, even if her eyes told a different story. 

“Friends… Friends? Friends with my precious boy…” you almost scoffed. “I'm so glad he has friends. I've always wanted to meet his friends”. She spoke like she was in a dream state and her eyes stayed on you, not blinking once. “You've come for a sleepover? I'd have to talk to your parents first. I need to know if you have allergies! Then your parents and I can also be friends and spend time together! I'm sure I'd like them”. 

You forced yourself to keep smiling at her, even if she unknowingly brought up something you were trying desperately not to think about. In 2007 you and your father Ares came to an agreement that it'd be best if you never saw each other again. The year was 2009 and you were still keeping up your side of the deal. You didn't burn offerings for him, you didn't go see him for that field trip, you haven't even uttered his name since then. When you heard about the gods fighting Typhon, you tried not to think about him getting hurt. 

You were the one that proposed the deal, yet you immediately regretted it. A part of you thought “good job! You're keeping your peace! Your relationship would've never gotten better anyway!”. The largest part of you kept thinking “but what if you were wrong? What if he changed?”. 

You shook your head. Curse your stupid loyalty. You could've turned Nico and Percy down, but Percy pleaded with you to come with him. The last time you become someone's adoptive older sibling… 

“Nah, you wouldn't like my dad Ms. Castellan. He's a real hardhead”. She chuckled, which looked insanely creepy because she still hadn't blinked. 

“Men tend to be. I'm sure he's still very lovely”. Yeah, if you enjoyed headaches. 

Nico took over the conversation and thankfully your familial issues were no longer a topic. Thankfully should be in quotations though, because the conversation quickly turned depressing. May Castellan spoke like she was floating and talked about her son and Hermes as if the last couple of years hadn't happened at all. In your heart, you knew that she either didn't know, or she forgot. You didn't know what happened to her and why she looked like she took a tumble in Wonderland and never escaped, but whatever happened caused her to never see reality the same. You pitied her. Poor woman. Forever making sandwiches for a boy that had grown into a man. An angel that snipped his own wings. 

Suddenly she stopped and screamed. You all jumped up and you pushed the two boys behind you. You doubted May Castellan would try to fight any of you, but you wouldn't take that chance. 

A glowing green filled her vision and she rasped “My child! Must protect him! Hermes! Help! Not my child! Not his fate! No!”. She grabbed at your shoulders and continued screaming about fates and you pushed her off. 

“Guys! Let's get out of here!” You yelled to the boys behind you. 

You were prepared to run out of there, but May collapsed and Percy ran to catch her before she could hit the floor. 

As quickly as she was screaming about fate and her eyes were glowing, it all stopped. She went back to her version of normal. 

“Normal” was a word that really sucked as a demigod because your version of normal would never be what you wanted. What you wished was normal for you was going to school, complaining about teachers, listening to music and playing video games. Your normal was fighting monsters, training, keeping the world from ending and nightmares. When other people's lives diverged from the norm, it was probably something small, like dyeing their hair a neon color. Your version of “well this doesn't always happen” was sitting across from Hestia and listening to her do that thing gods do, where they give you advice in riddles. 

The conversation was mainly on Percy, until it wasn’t anymore. Hestia looked over at you and you couldn’t help but feel small under her gaze (which was comical considering she looked like an 8 year old girl), like she was peering deep into your soul in search of something. 

In any other circumstance, you would’ve stayed silent. You didn’t have time for more mysteries right now, so you cleared your throat and said “my lady, is there something you want to say?”. 

“I just wonder…”

”Wonder? About what? Please, I wanna hear it” 

“I wonder whose side you’re on”. 

What?

Your brows furrowed. “The gods obviously”.

”Is it obvious though?”. You had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. Making an enemy out of Hestia wasn’t on your to do list.

”My lady, may I speak bluntly?”. She nodded. You really wished she didn’t choose the form of a child so you wouldn’t feel so silly. “The world is ending and there’s still so much I haven’t done. I’m stressed out, wondering if I’ll survive the battle-” if your father would care if you didn’t, “-if our efforts will be enough, how many mortals will die, if the gods survive their battle with Typhon. Please don’t add ‘not understanding a riddle’ to my stress. Whatever you’re thinking, just say it”. You could feel Nico shooting you a ‘are you crazy?’ look. How else were you supposed to say it? You thought you were being extremely kind and respectful. The alternative was “English please”.

Hestia looked you over as she thought. “I’ve heard about your conversations with your father”. Yeah sure, let’s bring that up again. Perfect!

You shifted uneasily, not wanting to talk about this anymore. Hestia either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “I wonder why you didn’t side with Kronos”.

You couldn’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes this time. Did she truly think so little of you? “Why would I side with him?”.

”Many of the demigods on his side feel neglected. No doubt you do as well. I wonder what’s the difference between you and them” 

“Brains” you answered. “We all have parental issues. You don’t side with a guy like Kronos”

”You think little of those demigods? Think yourself above them?” 

“You know what I did when I was angry with Ares?” His name felt strange on your tongue. It’d been so long since you said his name. “I gave myself terrible bangs and wore all black. I stared outside car windows, listened to sad music and imagined myself in a music video. I wrote in a diary that said ‘do not touch or I’ll kill you!’, all in uppercase letters. I didn’t side with a crazy Titan that wants to destroy the world as we know it. Seems a bit extreme, don’t you think?”. She nodded.

“My lady I mean this with respect and love in my heart; what is the point of this conversation?”.

She poked at the fire a bit before answering. “This battle will be a hard one. Perhaps I am buying time and trying to memorize your face in case something goes wrong”. Gee, thanks for all the hope lady.

”If something goes wrong for me, I at least hope everyone else gets a happy ending”

”Your death does not frighten you?” She asked with a raised brow.

”Of course it does” you answered truthfully. “But I can’t let fear stop me from doing what I know is right. You’re the goddess of the home, so you should understand when I say I fight for my home. I don’t think home is just a place though. Home can be people. Percy, Annabeth, 

Grover, Nico…” you swallowed, “… my dad. They’re my home. I won’t let my home be hurt without a fight. I’m willing to fight, kill, and die for my home. That’s how much home means to me”.

She smiled. “Spoken like a true child of Ares”. You wish she’d just tell you why she was hassling you in simple words. “But homes can be hectic-“

”My relationship with Ares is hectic but it doesn’t matter”

”You have hope”

”Sounds more like a statement than a question” you mumbled.

You looked at the fire, not wanting to look at (what appeared to be) the child on your ass.

When looking at the flames, for whatever reason you thought of home.

Images flashed in your mind. Images of camp, of laughing campers, of you and Percy giving Sally multiple heart attacks.

Of you and Annabeth debating, you and Grover planting flowers, you and Clarisse training together.

Images of your life flashed quickly, yet it all made sense. You could see everything as if you were there again.

Then the images slowed.

You felt Ares arms as he caught you when you fell from multiple floors up in the mall.

You could smell burgers and fries in the diner and saw him sitting across from you.

You could hear the two of you arguing and your ears started to burn with rage when you suddenly felt his warm embrace. You leaned into him and sighed, feeling his beard against the top of your head. You probably looked ridiculous to everyone else in the diner, but you didn’t care. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt his warmth and you knew you never would again. 

“I love you dad” you said.

You couldn’t believe what you heard next. He said “I love you too” and he genuinely sounded like he meant it. At the time, you thought there was no possible way he could’ve been being genuine.

“He’s gotten good at lying” you thought. “That’s all. He doesn’t care. You’re making things up”.

But what if you were wrong? What if there was a chance?

”I have to have hope” you said out loud. You were too busy looking at memories in the fire and missed Hestia’s satisfied smile. 

Hope.

Home.

If you were still alive by the end of the war, you knew you’d have to break your end of the agreement.

You knew you had to go home.

***

Everyone knew war was coming.

The hope for everyone else was that Kronos would never get strong enough to challenge the gods. Hope wasn’t something you could depend on though. You had to actually work, and apparently the gods hadn't done enough. 

All the gods, besides one, was nervous. Of course Ares was more excited than nervous, like a child in a candy store. If he had the power to control time, he’d speed this whole thing up so he could be in battle already. The anticipation was killing him.

It was so grim and depressing in Olympus. Everyone was on edge and acting as if this would be their last time seeing each other. Complete and utter bullshit. They were the 12 Olympians for fucks sake! Anyone else there was there for a reason. They’d beat Kronos and his army, then drink to their victory and hug their children.

Hug their children? 

“Stop”, he thought. “Not that shit again”.

He didn’t wanna think about children.

He pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance and made his way to a nearby fireplace.

”Ares” Hestia greeted without having to look at him.

“Hestia” he greeted back and sat down next to her on the ground. “Poking at the fire again?”

“What else is there to do?”

“You could be preparing for the battle”. She made a noise of disapproval, 

“You know I'm not one for fighting. I am where home is”. He couldn't say he understood it, but whatever kept her happy. Ares wasn't fond of all the gods, but he liked Hestia. She stayed to herself and overall was friendly with everyone. She didn't blab her mouth or make jokes about him and Aphrodite being caught by Hephaestus. She was a breath of fresh air honestly. 

Hestia looked over at him and cocked her head to the side. “No” he said before she could get anything out, “don't start asking me questions about feelings and try to dissect me”. Hestia was nice and all, but she always noticed when someone was off, and even if they weren't she'd find a way to make a conversation more deep than it needed to be. 

“Ares, the battle ahead will be a difficult one. There's a possibility that you could be destroyed or that your children-”

“Don't”. His voice came out harsh and he shot her a warning look. Unfortunately for him, Hestia was never intimidated by that. 

“They can die. Do you think they're keeping their feelings bottled? I doubt it. I hear them whisper their fears around the campfire at camp. They're terrified Ares.”

“How many are terrified?”

“All of them”. 

He wished he didn't ask. He should've stayed curious. 

Hestia was right. Any of his children could die. Maybe all of them. They all probably whispered to each other in their cabin, trying to comfort each other, and what was he doing? Sitting in Olympus. 

He hated that he cared. Ever since his last talk with a particular child, he had been trying to build those walls back up and go back to being his “normal” self. Unfortunately, those cracks seemed to remain and refused to go away. He tried to seal them, but even something as small as a talk with Hestia revealed those cracks again. “They'll be ok” he said although he knew the truth. The truth was that he had no idea what would happen. 

“I could deliver a message to them if you'd like”

“There's nothing I can think to say to them”

“Then perhaps you could say something to me. Whatever is on your mind, you can speak and I will listen”. 

Ares didn't wanna look at her so instead he looked at the fire in an attempt to ignore her. That proved to be an error when his nose filled with the familiar smell of rain and his ears filled his child's voice. 

“To me… to me you were everything. You are everything. “. Your tears mixed in with the rain and you wore a deep frown full of a child's repeated crushed dreams. His heart squeezed tightly for the first time in a while and he hated it. That's when it all started. 

Other memories flashed. Memories of him and the other Olympians fighting wars, sometimes with each other. 

He saw a time before strict rules and before he vowed to keep himself distant from his children. A time when he mourned them fully and intensely when their final breath passed their lips and their bodies became limp. 

He saw the time now and while it was full of distance and misery, he saw his other children. He saw them visiting him and talking about things he didn't care about but listened to anyway. Saw their sad faces and hung heads when they had to leave. 

It all went back to you though. 

“You want more from the child of Ares?!” You had puffed your chest when you said his name and held your sword tighter. “I have plenty to give!”. 

He heard your back and forth snarky comments to each other before the smell of food filled his nose and the conversation went from humorous to angry then sad. 

“I don't matter to you. Just admit it so we can move on”. You were so wrong but you said the words with such conviction. You genuinely thought you were right. Was that truly how neglectful he had become? All his children had become strangers and he couldn't blame anyone but himself. 

“Seeing you at all, it gives me hope” Was hope so bad to have though?

“You want this?”

“No” you said immediately. He remembers how he was surprised you had been that honest with him. He thought you'd make up a lie and pretend to be extremely confident, but your voice cracked and this time there was no rain to hide your tears. If earlier you wore a frown of repeated crushed dreams, that day your eyes filled with a child's final dream crushed. 

But then he felt the both of you hug and he couldn't help but think to himself “Does the dream have to be crushed? Does hope have to be lost?”. 

The fire continued to show him more memories of his children before it went back to you purposefully ignoring him. He had to admit that seeing you spend time with Hermes instead of him made his brows lower in frustration. But he agreed to a deal. 

“Ares?” Hestia questioned. Ares kept staring at the fire and hoped the images would return, but they slowly faded away. She said his name again. She had saw what he saw and felt the way his heart cried. It was a feeling she never wanted to experience again. 

He agreed to that deal… but what would happen to him if he broke it? Nothing that hasn't happened before. How could he see all of that and still want to keep his side of the deal?

“I think…” he whispered “I think I miss my children…”. 

His children. His family. His home. He had to believe that hope was possible. 

Hope.

Home.

He'd fight with his all while keeping everyone in the back of his mind. He knew he'd have to break his end of the deal. 

He knew he had to go home.

***

If someone were to ask how you felt in this exact moment, it'd be irritation. Because of some stupid disagreement between the Ares kids and the Apollo kids, Clarisse ordered that none of Ares' children were to attend the battle. When you reminded Clarisse that this battle was bigger than some stupid argument over a chariot and that campers have already died and more will, she simply puffed her chest and went on about how she's tired of Ares getting disrespected. Sure, ok. Maybe you got a point Clarisse. Couldn't this wait until after though?

You shared some harsh words, half of them being curse words, and joined the battle with everyone else. 

Manhattan as a whole was trapped in a deep sleep, yet somehow they seemed like the lucky ones. Sure, maybe a monster would step on them but at least they'd die in their sleep. If you died you'd be fully conscious and you knew it'd hurt. 

Only a fool feels no fear. A bigger fool lets fear paralyze them. You did your best to let your fear move you through your enemies and you cut and hacked at them, leaving a trail of dust in your wake. You tried at first to ignore how many old campers you were killing, but it was hard to when your sword was soaked and you stared in the eyes of people you used to call friends before you took their life. It didn't feel good but it was either you or them. None of them held their punches and those same kids came in camp and killed campers, so you wouldn't hold your punches either. 

A squeal filled your ears and you winced as you looked up. The fighting stopped and you understood why when you saw a huge flying pig heading straight towards everyone. You scoffed and wanted to make some sort of joke, but figured now wasn't the time. 

“As far as I know, no hero has ever beaten it” you heard Annabeth say when you got closer to her and Percy. Your heart beat in a skittish panic but you forced yourself to hold your sword firmly and say the words “we will” as serious and brave as you could muster. 

Percy had some idea and while you were told to keep the enemies back, your eyes landed on a white Pegasus and you knew you couldn't. 

“Hey Annabeth” you grabbed her arm, making sure not to grab too tight because of her previous wound. 

“Yeah?” she asked. Annabeth looked terrible. She was covered in dirt, dust, blood, and her hair was so out of place that you thought May Castellan would take kindly to her. You didn't know how you looked but you knew that all of you would need showers if you survived. 

“I love you too”

No. When you survived. 

“I'm gonna try and help Percy. Stay here. I'll come back. I promise”. Before she could ask you what you meant or remind you that you couldn't promise such a thing, you ran off to the Pegasus. 

“Hey buddy” you waved and forced a smile. You knew Percy could understand them and vice versa, but you couldn't understand them and you didn't know if that could understand you. “Me” you pointed at yourself, “friendly” you raised a thumbs up. You pet its head and it didn't bite you, so you assumed it understood. 

“Me” you pointed at yourself. “You” you pointed at the Pegasus. “Follow Percy and pig” you pointed at Percy and the pig, who were quickly vanishing from view. It nodded its head and after a sigh of relief, you got on its back. 

If it wasn't for the war and death, you'd say you were really enjoying this. How many people could say they had done something like this? Not many, that's for sure. 

“Hey Sharkboy!” You yelled when you were within shouting distance. Percy thankfully was no longer hanging by a rope, but was on Blackjack. You didn't know if Blackjack recognized you as the one always giving him donuts, but he made a pleased sound when he saw you. “Uh, is this a part of your plan?” You motioned to the statue that took his place attached to the rope. “It's a pretty shit one”. 

The boy rolled his eyes and huffed at you. Whether it was because of the nickname or insulting his plan, you didn't know. It made you smile either way. “I gotta get close to it! I can activate the statue to fight the pig!”. 

Flying pigs, fighting statues, just another day as a demigod. You rubbed in between your brows to stop the migraine that was forming. How hadn't you gone insane yet?

“It sounds crazy but-” Percy kept talking but you stopped listening. You looked behind you at the battle and like a fool, you froze. 

Manhattan was a war zone. This you knew. Seeing it up high like you were a god though made it all seem so much worse. You could see family being forced to fight each other. You could hear screams and pleads and crying. You could see kids trying to dodge being stepped on. You saw so many people not being allowed to mourn. You saw death. You saw it everywhere. 

Then your shock and fear turned to anger. These were your friends and family killing each other! Sure, they were still responsible for their actions, but there wouldn't be any actions for them to take if Kronos hadn't got in the way. He used these people and he didn't care how many died. He just wanted his throne. Annabeth could die. Grover could die. Percy could die. 

Your father could be destroyed. 

You didn't know how you looked, but you must've looked terrifying because Percy “talks back to everyone” Jackson looked at you the way you expected him to look at the gods; with edge. 

“Hey-”

You pet the animal under you neck and pointed at the pig “closer!” You ordered. It obeyed. It beat its wings harder and you passed Blackjack and Percy with ease. The closer you got, the more you could smell its stench. Under normal circumstances you'd pinch your nose and walk the opposite way, but this time you kept going straight towards it. 

The animal under you whined and you assumed that meant it was having a hard time keeping up. Your eyes fell to the rope and you knew what you had to do. 

Your sword morphed back into a necklace when you brought it close to you and after so much practice, clasping it wasn't a problem for you anymore. 

“Good boy or girl. I'll get you some snacks when this is all over. You like donuts?” it made a pleased sound and you pet its neck. 

You moved so that instead of straddling the animal, your legs were hanging over one side. 

“Don't let me die” you whispered to no one in particular then you pushed yourself off. 

A mixture of luck and skill prevented you from becoming a mark on the concrete. 

The rope burned your bare hands but you held on anyway. You managed to grab on above the statue and started climbing upwards, using the beating in your chest to motivate you not to fall and die. The white Pegasus stayed beside you as you forced yourself up the rope and you gripped the pig's fur to pull yourself all the way up. Now, pigs don't have tons of fur, but a giant pig had plenty enough to grab onto. 

The wind blew through your hair so harshly that you were surprised it didn't snatch it all off. The pig was flying at an intense speed with its only goal being to destroy everything you loved. 

You pulled your necklace off and it turned back into the double edged sword your father gifted you so many years ago. 

It was only now that you realized something. 

When you killed this thing, it'd disintegrate. You wouldn't. In the mall you were high up but you were only up a couple floors. Now you were definitely above the mall and many other buildings. The white Pegasus was no longer keeping up with you and when you looked behind you, Percy and Blackjack were still a while away. 

Percy connected the dots a lot faster than you did and you saw his lips move and Blackjack's wings flap faster. 

What do you say when you know you're gonna die? Damn. You didn't have time to prepare and you didn't have time for a speech. 

You felt like you were looking back at the flames. At home. At hope. You were supposed to return home after the battle and things would be okay again. But in the same breath, this is why you were fighting. You were fighting for your home and so the people you love could live as peacefully as they could. 

The sword felt heavier in your hand. You smiled to yourself. You still had a piece of home with you and you'd use it to better the lives of the other people you call home. 

You screamed as loud as you could in hopes Percy would hear you. “IF EVERYTHING GOES OKAY, TELL MY DAD THAT…” tell him what? You had so much to say. What could wrap everything you wanted to say together?

“... TELL HIM I MISS HIM! AND THAT I LOVE HIM!”. 

Blackjack's wings beat harder, yet he was still far. Percy wore a look of determination and you laughed. You couldn't believe he was still the young scared boy that arrived at camp when he was 12. 

“I LOVE YOU GUYS TOO!”. You smiled at him to leave him with something nice to remember. “THIS WAS FUN!”. 

You turned away from him and with as much strength as you could muster you plunged the sword through the pig’s skin. 

You felt its body crumble away and then you felt yourself slipping through the air. 

***

As one could assume, war was Ares' element and where he felt the most comfortable. There wasn't much to say about the battle. Sure, it was a battle for humanity but honestly? Ares wasn't that worried. Call it an inflated sense of self. Was it really that though when you could back up how high you thought of yourself?

As corny as it sounded, the war in his mind was much more intense. As he fought, his mind kept slipping back to what he saw in the flames. His family. His children. His home. His hope. The reason he fought. Sure he liked a good fight but he fought this giant monster with the other Olympians for his family. 

Ares is a proud man, so naturally he had faith that his children would survive the battle, but an ego could only get you so far. He knew the truth. He knew that any of his children could be crushed at any second, or squeezed to death, or stabbed, or eaten, or whatever Kronos and his army had planned. He knew that he could return to whatever was left of Olympus and he could mourn children that he had forced to become strangers. He wanted to be better. He had to be. He just needed time and that meant he needed his children alive. Especially the one that started this. 

Besides the diner, Ares had only held you once. He didn't think he'd remember it well yet somehow he could smell the cookies your mother had baked and he could remember exactly how the furniture was. He could see blinds covering the windows and the white walls lined with family photos and art pieces. He could see the black couch that sat across from the TV which sat on a table. 

And he could feel your mother place you in his arms. 

“This is your child” she had said. He looked over at her and she smiled down at you with a sense of joy and pride, which was much different to how he saw her look at you recently, with hate and contempt. 

You were so small then. Only months old, still exploring the world and having no idea how life would beat you down. You cooed as you looked up at him and shifted in his arms. He wondered if somehow you knew he was your father and that he was no threat to you. 

So small. So curious. So innocent. Now you were a warrior seasoned by the battles you had been fighting since you were a small child. 

He kept thinking about what would happen next the entire time. He knew he'd have to break his end of the agreement, but it was up to you and any of his other children to accept him turning a new page. It absolutely did NOT frighten him more than the Titan he was battling. Absolutely not. 

As Ares suspected, the Olympians and their children won the war. Kronos was gone and his armies were slaughtered. That was the best part. He didn't get the chance to have a good look at the battle, but seeing the damage the demigods caused made him proud. He hadn't seen you though, which was something he noted. 

The worst part was looking at Percy Jackson's face. Sure, he started the fight but that didn't matter! When Ares said “enemy for life” he meant it! The fact that he had to listen to Percy be praised and he couldn't beat on him right then and there made him tap his finger against the arm of his chair in discontent. 

“Lord Ares” Percy said and he could tell he hated saying the “Lord” part. It made him grin. 

“Boy?”

Percy's fist balled and Ares continued smirking. 

“I have a message from your child”. 

His smirk fell when he heard your name. A message? Did that mean… 

“They said that they missed you and loved you. They were… They…” he paused and Ares leaned forward. “They were in trouble and out of everything they could've said, they said that. They’re-” 

Ares didn't let him finish. He jumped out his chair and his feet thundered against the ground as he sped walked to the elevator. 

This couldn't be. That boy was wrong. His child was fine! He wanted to be better for them and now…?

No. No no no no! This couldn't be! He pressed the floor button repeatedly hoping that the elevator would move faster, even if he knew that's not how elevators worked. 

He lied to you once and said that gods didn't feel fear. How wrong he was. His whole body felt warm and if he wasn't pressing the button then he was tapping his fingers against his legs and if he wasn't doing that then he was pacing and if he wasn't doing that then he was imagining your limp body covered in blood. Was it at least quick?

“I love you dad”

No… 

Not his baby… 

After what felt like hours the elevator dinged and the doors opened. 

He stepped into the hall of the building. 

***

Turns out you should give Blackjack a lot more credit. 

You closed your eyes and hoped that the fall wouldn't hurt as much as you suspected it would and then suddenly your crotch hit something hard. 

“Fuck!” You exclaimed. Your eyes flew open and that's when you realized Blackjack actually managed to catch you. Percy let out a breath you suspected he was holding the whole time. 

“You don't ever do that again!” he scolded. Ironic coming from the guy who always did stupid things. 

“I hope I won't have to”. He rolled his eyes and looked back ahead of him. 

“I just knew you were gonna do something stupid. I just couldn't tell what it was at first. And don't you ever look at me like that again”

“Like what?”

“Like you want to kill something”. Once again, ironic. Percy had that same look on his face more times than you could count, but instead of arguing you kept a hand on his shoulder and said “sure Sharkboy”. 

You tried to tune out the rest of the battle to keep yourself sane. One moment you and Percy joined everyone else, then Percy and Annabeth went to Olympus and now you were sitting in the Empire State building completely exhausted. You were slumped in a chair, covered in dirt and grime when the Stoll brothers came over. 

“Guess what we have” Connor said in a sing song voice and raised his brows.

“An Advil?”. The two laughed like what you said was funny. It wasn't funny to you. Your head was killing you. 

“Even better” Travis said. “Boom!”. You hadn't noticed the bag he had on him somehow, and when he opened it your eyes were filled with candy. You looked back up at their faces, both with an ear to ear smile. 

“I thought Percy said not to snatch anything when everyone was asleep”. 

“We didn't! How could you say something like that?” The two looked at each other with faux innocence but their devious smiles betrayed them. Whatever. You were too tired to scold them and it wasn't your business that got ransacked. 

“Listen, we'd typically charge for these but since you killed that pig, you can get something for free”

You raised a brow at them and looked at them disinterested. “Or I could report you and make you take all that back”

“You won't” Travis challenged. 

Little shit was right. 

You looked in the bag for what you wanted and chuckled when you saw it. 

When you and Ares talked in the rain that night, you debated on burning a fruit roll up as an offering. You decided that was a shit offering and didn't do it, but your father saw you in the rain and came over anyway. 

Now that same flavor of fruit roll up was sitting at the top of all of that candy. 

You took it and thanked the two. They were on their way after, probably about to scam some poor kid by overcharging it. They never tried that with you or any of the other older kids. 

You pocketed the candy and used your sword to help you stand. You were exhausted. Your shoulders sagged, your back ached and you smelled like everything unfortunate in the world. You needed a shower and new clothes desperately. 

You began walking then a ding filled your ears and out of curiosity you turned from the door and looked over. 

It was him. 

By the way his eyes softened you could tell he saw you. You were done lying to yourself and convincing yourself he didn't care. You knew you saw relief in his eyes. 

Maybe Ares should've listened to what else Percy was gonna say. Maybe he was gonna say “they're fine but you should really talk to them”. Something like that. 

Ares had seen you tear up multiple times. In sadness, in anger, in betrayal. This time though? You didn't look hurt. You looked relieved. You looked like how he felt. You looked like a huge pain had been lifted off your shoulders. If before you looked like a child whose dreams were crushed, now you looked like an adult who realized there was nothing crushed that couldn't be fixed. 

You had grown up more since he last saw you. He didn't wanna miss any more years. 

“And I hope the idea of me calling you Ares instead of dad terrifies you” 

The words rang in his ears. You were right. It terrified him. It paralyzed him. He had one question on his mind. 

What would you call him?

The two of you stood facing each other for seconds but it felt longer. Both your minds were racing. You were both thinking of the past, the fact that both of you were okay, and wondering what the future would be.

You felt like a kid again. You just stared at him with so many emotions coursing through you. The main ones being joy and relief. 

Without thinking, you threw your sword to the side and ran at him. “Daddy!” You shouted with the inner voice of a child who was finally getting everything they wanted. You jumped into his arms and he caught you. His grasp was firm and he kept you close. 

You both closed your eyes and focused on each other's warm embrace. You were both okay. You were both home. Neither of you held your tears and vulnerabilities from each other. 

“I heard you were missing me” he said. You knew it was a joke but you couldn't laugh. You nodded into his shoulder. 

“I did”. 

“I missed you too” he admitted. It felt so good to finally admit. 

It felt so good to finally hear. He missed you. He cared for you. He loved you. He was holding you. 

“I don't like our agreement anymore” you mumbled. “You gonna rearrange my fingers or-”

“No” he answered firmly. He set you down and his hands held your face. “No” he said again. 

“Not gonna turn me into an ant either?” You joked. He smiled at you and pulled you into another hug.

“I love you dad”

“I love you too”. 

Ares did something he hadn't done in a while and he kissed the top of your head like he saw other fathers do. It surprised him how much happiness it filled him with. You on the other hand thought this would only happen in dreams. You were so glad you were wrong. 

Then he did something else he hadn't done in a while. 

He apologized. 

“I'm sorry”

“I know” you answered simply.

“I'm gonna be better”. 

You smiled and closed your eyes, allowing yourself to melt in his embrace. 

“I believe you”. 

Hope. 

Home. 

You two managed to hold onto hope. What others would call delusional or stupid, you called a dream. You both managed to make that dream a reality. 

After years and years of complications, heartache and frustration, you two made it. 

You two made it home. 

If y’all sexualize the reader calling Ares “daddy” I swear I will rewrite this and have the reader die a terrible death. Do NOT-

Anyway y’all IT’S HERE! We finally made it to the end! Y’all feeling as proud and emotional as I do? Originally Everything wasn’t gonna be a series. I made pt1 and was like “yeah. A simple one shot” but people wanted more and it became a series. I got 2 abandoned series for different fandoms so it’s an accomplishment I finished this one. I don’t have any new series planned right now but I wanted to say thank you for the support Everything has gotten and the nice comments I’ve received. This was really fun. Until next time! (Also I told y’all they’d get a happy ending. I know some of y’all didn’t believe me)

Taglist: @kyuupidwrites @chadmeeksmartinswifey @lebguardians @beansficreblogs @itzjustj-1000 @white-wolf-buckaroo @elsisenta @leathesimp @marshymallo @stickyfictioninwriting @asexualaromosafezone @arialikestea @1mawh0re @samoanroyalty @wolfgirl294 @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin @ohlookitsasinglepoeceofpopcorn

[emo-batboy]

Battinson and Food

He’s vegetarian and I will hear none of your crap

Depression meals, so many depression meals

I already made a post of his greatest hits here but here's three more:

A whole tub of apple sauce

Instant grits mixed with a hot chocolate packet

And a bowl of croutons

Some meals have actually graduated from the “Depression Meal” category to “Whenever I Can Sneak It Out of the Kitchen” status (because Alfred is appalled every time)

Dick, with the invincible, titanium-lined stomach of a 9yo, doesn’t know why Bruce makes them, but he loves taking bites of Bruce’s weird concoctions.

His favorites so far are:

Cream cheese and jelly sandwich

Spoonfuls of peanut butter (with chocolate chips, that was his idea)

And frozen garlic bread

Diner Food is King. (This is New Jersey. What did you expect?) His go-to order is two eggs over easy, well-done rye toast, grits with syrup and butter, and a fruit cup with no melons from the 24-hour place two blocks east. Hasn’t changed since he was five. Never will.

Bruce can cook food that is edible. Edible.

Like if he tries to make Italian, he can successfully cook the pasta. He can make a basic sauce. He can even plate it.

The tomato sauce is crunchy in some places, yes, but it’s fine :) and it is edible

but Bruce has NEVER succeeded in a baking endeavor, and it positively devastates him every single time

“Baking is science! I love science! I’m great at science. So why didn’t the cake rise when I did everything on the recipe?!” “You need to make it with love-“ “That wasn’t on the ingredients list, Alfred!”

He can handle spice surprisingly well. It’s not like he could avoid it while training all over the world, so he ended up building a tolerance, but his eyes still go unbelievably red every time.

He really fucks with bagels (I mean, what self-respecting Gothamite doesn’t) and he has a very specific bagel order for every possible mood from the great place downtown

The workers at Bagel Kingdom know which moods correspond with which order, and they have a designated spreadsheet taped to the back of the counter so they can work accordingly.

They know he’s barely hanging in there when he gets a toasted blueberry bagel with no butter.

He’s having a good day when he gets a plain bagel sandwich with tomato, provolone, two fried eggs, and hot sauce. In that order. That’s the shit

When he’s stressed, he gets a pumpernickel bagel with strawberry cream cheese to cheer himself up.

The workers of Bagel Kingdom will NOT let you disrespect his bagel.

Bruce almost burnt the tower down when he tried to cook a toaster waffle in the microwave while running on 40 hours without sleep, and he just kept cooking it because it wasn’t crisping for some reason

Alfred needs to force him to eat all the time

(It is definitely because Bruce suffers from disordered eating.)

There was one period of time in which Bruce went days without food, and Alfred (lovingly) threatened to send him to in-patient if he didn’t eat

Bruce said that those gross, mushy, lukewarm blueberries were the only thing he’d tolerate when he was struggling, so blueberries became their indicator: if Bruce can’t stomach blueberries, he goes to in-patient.

He’s gone twice, and Bruce was very mad each time, but he still uses healing methods that he was taught in there so it couldn’t have been that bad.

(He’s also friends with some of the nurses now. He, Denise, and Kayleigh have a group chat.)

Dick once convinced him to test taste different kinds of olive oil to learn the difference between regular and extra virgin. It was absolutely disgusting, and he ended up puking an hour later. Alfred now puts child locks on the kitchen cabinets.

The first time Bruce ever makes a meal that doesn’t look horrid is when he spends two weeks practicing Romani dishes for Dick the month after he adopts him.

He has since perfected three different recipes:

Stuffed peppers

Goulash

Cabbage rolls

(Keep in mind Dick is not vegetarian like Bruce.)

He tried making almond cake like 80 times (which is more like a biscuit but still a baked good) but could never do it right so Alfred makes them instead.

At dinner time, Dick always eats off Bruce’s plate more than his own. Alfred has chastised him several times, but Bruce only encourages him more. He thinks it’s cute. And so does the general public when they attend dinner parties.

One of Bruce's favorite memories of his parents is when he had a bad dream in the middle of the night so Thomas and Martha drove him out to the nearest diner to have a chocolate milkshake at 3 am.

Now, after patrol, if Bruce saw something traumatic or something that reminded him of his parents’ death, he’ll go to that same 24-hour diner and sit for a bit with a chocolate milkshake.

He continues this tradition after Dick becomes Robin. (Even if it took months for Bruce to even consider the idea of letting Dick near harm’s way.)

No matter how hard he tries to keep Dick away from the gruesome stuff, he can’t stop everything. They get milkshakes a lot more than Bruce would like.

But eventually, it turns into a treat whenever Dick does well in school or needs a pick-me-up.

And when they add Jason to the mix, they introduce him to the tradition as well.

They know everything will be okay when they have chocolate milkshakes together.

[maybe-moonchild]

2004 - 2009

WC: 3.3k

There are a few things that you need to remember. 

No because you try to erase them from your memory but because some memories of the past are just as crucial as the future. The little moments that seem so insignificant at the time, are appreciated in the future, and are soul crushing when nothing is the same anymore. 

So maybe you try to forget them because thinking about them makes it hard to breathe for a long moment. 

But you need to remember them. 

They are points in time you should never, ever forget. 

°｡⋆˚🕷˚ 🏙 ｡⋆˚☂︎ ˚⋆˚

6/26/2004:

Peter Parker was a Dick. 

At least, you thought he was. It was a word you’d heard your dad mutter under his breath during rush hour when someone cut him off. You also knew you weren’t allowed to say it because, when you asked your mom what it meant, she shot your dad a dirty look and told you not to say it. 

But if it meant asshole, then yes. Peter Parker was a dick. 

You could feel his eyes on the back of your head as you knelt on the pavement. Your  new house in Queens was small, brick and without any of your old friends living nearby. You hated Queens. You hated New York. At that moment, you were pretty sure you hated your parents for moving you there. 

Chalk covered your fingers, staining them yellow and orange as you tried to fix the sun you’d drawn before lunch. When you’d returned from inside where your mom had forced you to stop drawing on the sidewalk so you could eat half a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and six carrots, it had two lines cutting through it. It became clear the boy across the street had skated right over it.

He’d been relatively quiet the past week since you’d moved in. Always riding his skateboard in the street, trying to teach himself little tricks and stumbling before he caught himself from hitting the gravel. 

You knew he knew that you were mad because he pretended not to notice the glare you gave him from your side of the street. 

Good. He should feel shameful. You’d been working on this all morning since it was the first day all week that lacked overcast skies or sprinkles of rain.

You kept your back to him as you worked, grinding the yellow chalk into the cement harder than necessary to erase the mark he’d made. You were too young to know that chalk drawings weren't all that important in the grand scheme of the universe. To a nine-year-old who was angry at the world for having to move to Queens, leaving your friends and old house behind, it felt like the only thing you could control. 

Like it was the only thing you had left. 

The sound of a body smacking onto the pavement and the clattering of the skateboard snapped you out of your fuming. Peter pushed himself up onto his hands with a grimace; knees, elbows and palms skinned and embedded with little pebbles. 

“Are you okay?” you called out as you stood, rushing over to him where he sat in the middle of the street. Embarrassed from the fall and ruining your chalk, he averted his eyes and winced. It didn’t deter you as you got to your knees on the pavement beside him. 

Peter hadn’t meant to ride over your art. Really.! Uncle Ben and Aunt May had only given him the skateboard at the beginning of summer vacation so he was still learning how to ride it. He had been trying to work up the nerve to say hi all week since you moved in. All morning he had tried to do the same thing. So when you went inside, Peter had the idea that maybe he could say something about drawing or your chalk art but… he just hadn’t been able to stop in time. 

You frowned and turned away in the hope of hiding his cut-up knees from your view. You quickly leaned forward to grab his arm and he stiffened at the touch, brown eyes wide as he peeked up at you. You were waiting for him to answer. 

Sniffling, he managed to nod. The last thing he needed to do was look like a crybaby. 

“You’ll need band-aids.” You placed your hands on his legs so you could inspect the cut-up skin exposed by his khaki shorts. The sting was practically nonexistent now when all he could think about was the way your nose scrunched up in thought. “And these need to be cleaned first. My mom is a nurse. We have a first aid kit inside, come on.”

Gone were your concerns about your chalk drawings,  replaced with a newfound concern for your neighbor. 

Peter let you help him up even if he didn’t actually need it. A part of him wanted to tell you that he was fine. That he’d fallen off his skateboard more times than he could count. He just couldn’t seem to get the words out. Actually, he couldn’t seem to get any words out or shake the dreamy expression off his face. 

You were careful as you opted to grab his forearm rather than his hands to not touch the scrapes on his palms. He almost tripped a few times as you dragged him towards your house. There were still a few packed boxes lining the walls from the move but it seemed like your parents were making good progress on moving in. 

“I’m really good at putting bandaids on. On myself and other people. I fall a lot. Especially since we moved,” you continued just to fill the quiet to distract him in case he wanted to burst into tears. Sometimes you cried when you fell down and you really didn’t want him to cry. 

“I’m not used to the new house yet so I keep tripping or knocking my elbows into the corners of the walls. The bandaid on my elbow is from when I fell down the stairs the other day because I thought there were only twelve steps like in our old house. This one actually has fourteen so I miscounted.”

You patted the counter to signal that he could sit on the edge and he complied, still silent and watching you with awe. The first aid kit was heavy in your hands which made you practically dump it beside him. 

The whole situation would be awkward if you let it. The one-sided conversation you were able to hold while he nervously picked at some of the dead skin soothed some of his anxiety. Pink flooded his cheeks when you noticed what he was doing and gently swatted his hands away. They fell to his lap before you stood in front of him. 

“Here,” you murmured, taking his hand towards your face so you could see the damage better. You didn’t bother looking away as you flipped on the faucet to warm up the water.. 

Peter Parker might only be nine years old but at this very moment, he was sure that he was in love. Each touch of your fingertips against his skin made his stomach do summersaults like when he and Harry went to Coney Island two weeks ago. The proximity of your face to his made his cheeks so hot that he was sure you could feel the warmth.. 

But when you finally looked up at him from under your lashes, Peter didn’t think he was in love. 

He knew he was. 

It took him a long minute to realize that you had just told him your name. It had to be the prettiest thing he’d ever heard in his life. He mulled the combination of letters over in his brain and desperately wanted to say them outloud over and over again. 

“Peter. Peter Parker.” His voice was hoarse but he managed to get the words out.

You smiled. 

After a long moment, he smiled back. 

From that moment, the two of you couldn’t seem to spend a moment apart. 

8/27/2006:

“She did not say that,” Peter snorted from his spot on his bedroom floor. The ugly gray skies and splatter of rain against the glass were enough to keep the two of you indoors for the afternoon. Neither of you were happy about that. Not when summer was going to come to an end in days. Then, you would both start sixth grade.

“Yuh huh.” you shot back defensively. You were draped across his twin-sized bed, hands tucked behind your head and tracing the glow in the dark stars that were peeling off the ceiling. The top of his head was just visible over the edge of the comforter, looking like he had either just woken up or stuck a fork in an electrical socket. Each click of the Rubix cube in his hands filled the lulls of silence.

“Nuh-uh.”

“Swear to god.”

Now it's his turn to make a face, which he knew you saw before you leaned over the bed, just to make sure he could see the pout you were wearing. 

“There is no way that Mary Jane, of all people, told you that having your first kiss before middle school is a requirement,” he sighed. Although, it did kinda sound like the exact kind of dramatics she tended to have. Peter wasn’t paying enough attention to you or the topic at hand. This was serious. Not when you were stressing out because what if she had been telling the truth and you were going to show up to middle school and be the laughing stock of all the eighth graders. 

“She did.” Sick of fighting for his attention, you plucked the Rubix cube from his hands and yanked it out of his reach when he tried to snatch it back. All you had to do was sit up on your knees and hold the cube above your head to keep it from him. 

When you whined his name again, he decided to give in. Climbing up beside you on the bed wasn’t weird. Hanging out in his room or your room had never been weird because you’d been doing it ever since you moved in across the street two years ago. 

“Jeez, okay.” He raised his hands in surrender before flopping onto his back beside you. His brown doe eyes were wider than usual when he leaned over; nothing but his face visible in your view. “Okay, fine. So… MJ said that most people had their first kisses by middle school. So what?”

“So what?” You repeated with a comical drop of your jaw. He just shrugged at the dramatics. 

“So, we're gonna be the only two sixth graders that haven’t kissed anyone-”

“Oh come on, we are not going to be the only sixth graders that haven’t kissed anyone-”

“How do you know we won’t?”

“Oh, so Ned kissed someone this summer?”

You opened your mouth to protest but hesitated because…  there was a very slim chance that Ned Leeds, bless his heart, had fulfilled his lifelong dream of kissing Katie Douglas. You hung your head in defeat before falling over dramatically on the bed. 

“See.” He pushed up on his elbows so he could be the one to lean over you with a ‘told you so’ look. “We won’t be the only ones.”

You didn’t really seem to believe him by the way you scrunched up your nose and looked up at the ceiling. He gave your hair a playful tug and snorted. At least the little smile on his face was enough to calm some of your worries. 

Since when did you care about kissing someone? Since when did you care about what Mary Jane said like she didn’t make things up all the time? It seemed silly. The idea that everyone entering middle school was supposed to have kissed someone before the start of the semester. You barely knew what kissing was. Sure, you’d seen it in movies and you’d seen your parents do it. Aside from those glimpses, you really didn’t know what the big deal was anyway.

Maybe now was when you were supposed to start thinking about it like it was a big deal…

“Fine,” you sighed and sat up beside him. The Rubix cube bounced between your hands, “As long as we don’t show up the first day and turn into social pariahs.”

Slowly, he sat up too, studying you carefully as you both settled beside each other. Eventually, your hands stilled, the unsolved Rubix cube finding a spot on the pillows. Peter could see the way you worried about the whole idea in the back of your mind but he didn’t seem to get it either. 

Who cared what everyone else thought? Why did anyone else even need to know whether you had kissed anyone anyway? Unlike you, he did understand the idea of kissing someone- at least as much as an eleven-year-old could understand the idea. Even though he had never done it, sometimes he wondered what it would be like to kiss you.

You scratched at a scab on your knee that you’d gotten last week falling off Peter’s skateboard. He was still determined to teach you even when it always ended in skinned extremities. Last summer it had ended in a broken collar bone which he still felt guilty about. 

“I just…” you started before letting out a quiet exhale. When you worked up the courage to speak again, your voice was much quieter. “I don’t want to be the only person in the entire grade who’s never done it.”

More like you didn’t want to be the only person left out of something. 

His eyes studied your face, bottom lip rolling between his teeth. He took in your slumped shoulders and furrowed brows with a frown of his own. He didn’t like seeing you upset. It didn’t make him feel good. 

Giving up on the topic, you tried to gather some optimism even if the rain just made everything feel gloomy. Thunder rumbled somewhere far away and it was clear that the August afternoon storm was going to roll into the evening.  

“It’s fine. I’m sure that no one is going to even bring it up-”

You’d barely turned your head in his direction before he leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours. It was quick, just a peck before he was already pulling away and sitting back. Your eyes were wide in shock. 

He just stared at you tentatively. Now, he thought he’d screwed up. That he should’ve said something first- at least asked because you were staring at him and saying nothing and- oh my god! What if you were mad at him now?

It was only when a bashful smile appeared on your face that he felt like he could actually breathe again. 

Both of you were blushing, still trying to make sense of what the big deal was with kissing. All you knew was that it wasn’t that bad. The feeling of butterflies in your stomach was a funny reaction to the whole thing but, hey? What did you know?

“There,” he said slowly, his voice quiet and slow. “Now neither of us will be social pariahs.” 

You were lucky to have him. 

He was lucky to have you. 

Neither of you actually spoke about it. . 

4/14/2009:

It was an old root beer bottle that was the decider of fate. 

Someone had ripped the label off the best they could but there were still pieces of the blue paper stuck to the glass. It felt scandalous, sitting in the hotel room with a handful of other students in Science Club who had snuck out of their respective rooms. The carpet was kind of gross and you couldn’t stop shifting in your spot to try and keep your legs from falling asleep. 

Peters knee pressed against yours. The circle of students gathered for the game sat tightly together as everyone tried to keep quiet enough to not get busted.  Ned was on the other side of him, only having joined the team for a very smart, but very popular, Katie Douglas, who sat on the other side of the circle next to the next most popular girl in Science Club, Gwen Stacy. 

It was your turn, your cheeks pink from the quiet cheers of your name as you reached for the glass. Peter gave your arm a reassuring nudge and, while you didn’t acknowledge it, you did appreciate it. It wasn’t like there was anyone in this room you really wanted to kiss. You just didn’t want to be left out. 

It wasn’t the drive to be popular and cool. It wasn’t even about being on the inside. You just didn’t want to be on the outside if it wasn’t by choice. 

Peter had always been comfortable with a sense of invisibility. Being on the outside, right on the cusp of everyone where he was close enough to watch but far enough away that he didn't actually have to be included was his preference. You were always okay with that but you did tend to toe the line more in hopes of crossing between both worlds. 

So when you spun the bottle and it landed next to you, all eyes were on you and your best friend of four years.

The two of you had already kissed once. In fact, it was the only kiss either of you had ever had. Your classmates erupted into giggles and hushed cheers, gossiping already beginning that would only spread at school. 

You peaked up at Peter but he was already doing the same. Pink tinged his cheeks and ears (yours surely looked the same) and his eyebrows were stuck high on his forehead. But the look he was giving you wasn’t one of embarrassment, it was one to ask you a question.

‘You sure?’

Like he was waiting for confirmation. Maybe deep down he knew that you did want to because declining would be far more embarrassing than kissing him in front of your peers. It wasn’t like you two hadn’t done it before either. 

So you shrugged, the corner of your mouth turning up. 

Then he shrugged, returning your little smile with one of his own. 

And then you both leaned forward and pressed your lips together. 

This kiss was longer than the first, three whole seconds of a chaste kiss before pulling back to the sounds of giggling and whispers. Neither of you really seemed to care. 

Neither of you ever talked about it again. 

°｡⋆˚🕷˚ 🏙 ｡⋆˚☂︎ ˚⋆˚

Now you see. 

There are things you do your fucking hardest to try and avoid thinking about. It isn’t like you just deny it out loud; rather you pretend that it doesn’t plague you the way it does as you lay in bed some nights. 

It’s worse when it rains. 

When you find yourself laying in bed and staring at the ceiling. Sometimes you find yourself thinking that you can hear him knocking on the glass between the patter against the glass. Each rumble of thunder makes you want to reach for him even though he hasn’t shared a bed with you in years. Cracks of lightning feel like sharp aches in your chest when you wonder if he thinks about you. 

Sometimes, if you close your eyes and REALLY focus, you can almost pretend that he’s lying next to you. That the sheets are warm from his body heat and you can feel the steady rise and fall of his chest. That if you were to reach out a hand, you’d be able to touch his skin. 

What a fucking joke when there’s nothing there.

[natspookie]

Nat x spidey-powers!reader (romantic or platonic up to you)

Got a couple ideas involving reader who is pretty happy just being a hero around NYC instead of an avenger going on big missions:

* Reader botches a stealthy takedown of some robbers in NYC. Gets a little roughed up (minor bruises and scrapes). Then asks Nat for lessons in "how to stealth"

* 4 times reader fails to sneak up on Nat. And the 1 time they succeed.

* Reader getting in over their head with something big happening in NYC and calls Nat for backup

Love your work! No worries if you don't vibe with any of these ideas. I just saw that you were looking for more. Thank you so much for sharing what you write:)

a/n, whennnn i tell you i grinned ear to ear at having a request heheeheh, thank you anon<333

i hope you don’t mind i mixed these requests a bit and write it in fem!reader ? if you want a gender neutral one lmk!!!

★ summary : 4 times reader fails to sneak up on natasha and the one time she does

#1

you tried to sneak up on natasha by tiptoeing your way through the compound. you smiled seeing natasha’s back faced to you in the middle of the kitchen, making her famous peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

“i heard you tiptoe from the entrance” you could hear her smirking “nattie!” you groaned, making your footsteps known and louder now. “try harder” she handed you a sandwich.

#2

natasha is seated in the middle of your shared apartment with a glass of wine in her hand when she was flipping through the tv channels. you open the balcony door a little, squeezing through, when you hear natasha

“i heard your webs get tangled in the tree, dekta” “nattttt” you whined, sitting on her lap as you tucked your face into her neck. “try quieter” she mumbled with a laugh

#3

“third time’s a charm” you mumbled trying to use your spidey senses to hear natasha walk through the hallway. you heard her pause before entering the library of the compound, where you were. you held your breath but she opened the door, clearly unsurprised you were hear.

“i heard you hold your breath” “natasha! why can’t you stop being a super spy for a second! i have the super senses” you whined “what’s the fun in that, spidey?” she laughed, shaking her head

#4

you had come home too late when you tiptoed into you and natasha’s shared room, taking your mask off, wincing at the nasty scratch on your forehead.

“dekta?” natasha sat up with a frown, turning the lamp on “sorry nat, these guys were kinda tough” you laughed as you peeled the suit off “ow ow ow” you said as natasha tried to help “sorry” she muttered

you watched as natasha got out her first aid kid “take a shower will ya? i’ll clean it up after” you nodded, tiredly.

when you got out of the shower, natasha had laid out her pajamas for you.

you walked out of the bathroom ready to hear a handful from natasha. she patted your side of the bed and so you sat there. natasha disinfected the wounds carefully as you bit your lip. “dekta you need to be more careful, i’m serious. look at this…” she pointed to the open wound on your leg “this could get infected”

“i really tried to he careful nat” you said, teary eyed “you can always call me if you need backup okay?” she cupped your face, carefully leaning against your forehead as you nodded.

#5

natasha sighs from the balcony of your shared apartment, watching the sunset. she wished you came back from all your ‘good neighborhood friend’ work. she mostly wished you didn’t forget it was your 1 year anniversary.

she twirled her hair around, leaning her head at the palm of her hand in hopes of catching a glimpse of you swinging through the city. just when she lost all hope, a loud squeal left her mouth as you swooped her body securely and swung through the city.

“Y/N DON’T DROP ME!” she squeezed her eyes shut as you swung through the city that never sleeps. “shh, you’ll be fine nattie, i’ve got you” you squeezed her thrice before landing on top of a building overlooking the brookyln bridge with spiderwebs saying ‘i love you’.

“i thought you forgot” natasha looked at the bridge in awe before turning around to see all her favorite food on a picnic blanket. “i should be hurt but i’ll let you go this once” you winked

“happy anniversary, my spider” natasha placed herself on your lap “happy anniversary nattie, i finally snuck up on you” “don’t gloat” she nudged your shoulder

[prismaticpichu]

FF7 Crisis Core Characters & Their Pokémon Partners!~ 💛 🗡️

Why howdy!! Welcome back to another glorious edition of “Pichu combines her hyperfixations like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich!” <3 Yeeeehaw!

I tried to be as creative as I could with the move references 😂 Kudos if you can spot ‘em all!

Warning for Angst <3 :,3c

~~~

Angeal

Samurott ~ A bladed warrior Pokémon known for its strict and formidable discipline, as well as drawing obvious inspirations from Samurai/their honorable Bushido code! The fella was an Oshawott for most of Angeal’s life—belonging to the entire family as a whole, considering that they unfortunately didn’t have enough money to buy many Pokeballs/food to take care of more than one. It was only when Angeal decided he wanted to join SOLDIER that his father officially gave him Oshawott’s Pokéball, leading Angeal to spend officially numerous hours training with his buddy. By the time he joined SOLDIER, he had a worthy Samurott by his side—the strongest Pokémon out of all the three elite Firsts. When he eventually took Zack under his proverbial wing some handful of years later, the boy quickly bonded with Samurott: training, playing, and often feeding his aquatic friend when Angeal was unable to. When Angeal deserted ShinRa’s forces, however, Samurott still clung to those memories and tried to convince his trainer to do the right thing, ultimately becoming wishy-washy with its own morales as result. And, in the end, nothing hurt its rended soul more than being forced to battle Zack under Angeal’s command. It was also the last battle it ever fought.

Moves:

Aqua Cutter

X-Scissor

Double Team

Take Down

Genesis

Flapple ~ An apple—obviously!—and a red, winged apple that housed a little (book)worm-dragonsnake thing on top of it! With Crisis Core taking some inspiration from the Garden of Eden story, it seemed like the most appropriate choice. Let’s also not forget that apples rot. Anywho—able to afford Pokeballs at a young age, Genesis caught the little guy when it was just an Applin, which subsequently catalyzed his affinity for the fruit + prompted him to start a small Banora White juice stand as a kid. Growing up, Genesis loved to battle—always pushing to be the best he could be, to emulate the heroes in his stories and the silver-haired superstar he saw in the papers. But he was also a kind boy, with a kind heart—good ambitions—and spent many days helping training with Angeal’s Dewott. He was able to get his hands on a Tart Apple rather young, and ultimately went on to serve as viable asset to ShinRa’s military with the aid of his aerial Pokémon. But it was the times after the war that were sweetest to Genesis—where he and his best friends hung out together, where they used Flapple’s attacks as props and projectiles, with one of their favorite games including knocking apples of off each other’s heads. They were childish games, yes—but harmless games. Harmless competition. Harmless rivalry. Simple rivalry. Fiery rivalry. Intense rivalry. Jealous rivalry. Burning rivalry. Dangerous rivalry. And, one day, it was just too much—it was taken too far. One training incident, one battle between friends. A pepper of metal; a spur of blood; a cry of pain; and a trip to the infirmary. And it was after this day that Genesis was never really the same. When the man felt himself growing ill, Flapple was the only one he confided it—was the only one he told his plans of desertion to. And when the day came for him to abandon his past, Flapple was hesitant. Hesitant—but loyal. He remained by Genesis’s side and watched his trainer degrade, watched him rot like the fruit of his own etymology. And he wanted to cure. And he would help his trainer find that cure—that “gift”—no matter the cost. He would do anything. He would do anything, even if it meant helping destroy the reality of his old friends.

Moves:

Wing Attack

Grav Apple

Trailblaze

Outrage

Zack

Arcanine ~ Yes—pupper for life! <3 But just like the game Zack hails from, NEVER underestimate the power of a fiery pup!! One of the most loyal Pokémon to exist, Zack took in an injured Growlithe from the wild when he was just a little kid, immediately sparking a friendship that would last him for years upon years to come. Zack loves his partner more than anything in the world—training to become the best SOLDIER he can possibly be since the day their dreams were together. Together, from vigorous and unwavering training, they climb through the ranks of ShinRa. It’s only at Fort Tamblin where, alongside receiving a Fire Armlet from Lazard, he receives a Fire Stone—and it’s all Arcanine adventures from there! Unfortunately, however, this is also when Angeal deserts, and Zack relies more than ever on the comfort of his best friend. Arcanine helps him stay positive, but even the dog itself begins to grow jaded, losing some of the blazing spirit that used to surge through its veins. Modeoheim is one of the worst tolls on the two of them—one of the most spiritually-shattering incidents of their ShinRa career. One that is only trumped by Nibelheim, where its life comes to end upon being crushed by fiery debris. It was trying to save Claudia.

Moves:

Close Combat

Play Rough

Protect

Flame Charge

Cloud

Riolu: A little baby-waby Pokémon that grows into something truly incredible and iconic. Riolu was a gift from Cloud’s mother when he was turning 14 years old—a little something to keep him safe as he went away to ShinRa. Cloud was always a little hesitant about raising Pokémon, but bonded rather well with Riolu once he opened up—albeit after an admittedly awkward start. Riolu was always there to comfort Cloud after SOLDIER-exams, always there to cheer him up and keep him going until the next one. When it’s time to go on a mission with the Great Sephiroth, Riolu is there to keep him chill—sitting in his lap in the truck, affectionally nuzzling his chin to keep him level-headed. Cloud wanted to keep Riolu in his Pokeball as to keep his identity hidden—a decision that would go on to save the small Pokémon’s life when the town was horrifically set ablaze, sheltered from Sephiroth’s wrath and madness while other Pokémon made the fatal mistake of trying to stop him. Following the incident, he doesn’t remember much—unaware of when Zack broke him out of the lab and carried him and his poisoned Riolu to the edge of Midgar. There’s flashes of something in his memory—serrated shards of a bloody face and bloody body that slash into his psyche beyond his own understanding. He doesn’t remember the moment his Riolu evolved—evolving into a Lucario under the pouring rain and the pearls of crimson that had stained its paws. In fact, he doesn’t even remember ever having a Riolu. All he could seem to remember is having an Arcanine—an Arcanine who perished before his eyes—and taking custody of a Lucario who originally belonged to his friend.

Moves:

Endure

Bullet Punch

Reversal

Copycat

Sephiroth

Pichu ~ Yep! That’s it, you heard it right: no legendary Pokémon, no mythical—just a small little lab rat that Sephiroth cherished more than anything on the planet. He first met Pichu when he was just a little boy, finding it trapped in a too-tight cage among Hojo’s numerous experiments. Bruises and scratches marred its yellow fur, coiled into itself as it quivered and shook amid the pulsing darkness. And Sephiroth, at his tender age, could hardly stand the sight. He couldn’t stand it—not when he could feel every scratch laddering its body, every injection that must have pierced its fragile form. He knew it was a risk, he knew he could be punished—but at that moment, meeting those pained and teary eyes, none of that seemed to matter. When Hojo found Sephiroth with Pichu the next day, he of course tried to take it away—only to be met by a tempest of threats and snarls, kicks and hisses. In the end, Hojo conceded, but forcefully fed it an Everstone when Sephiroth was asleep. In the following years, the duo were inseparable—every surgery, every training session, every trial… they were together. And when Sephiroth went on to Wutai, you bet Pichu was there with him. It wasn’t much of a battler—often hurting itself with its own electricity—but what the Pokémon lacked in strength it more than made up for in loyalty and spirit. As Sephiroth’s fame and influence burgeoned, he did everything in his power to keep his treasured friend out of the limelight—often keeping him sheltered in his Pokeball until the man was able to return to his quarters in peace. This lead to several people fantasizing about what Pokémon the Great Silver Warrior could possibly have—what kind of mythical beast he kept stashed away. Only very few people have ever seen Pichu at all: Glenn, Matt, Lucia, Genesis, Angeal, and Zack—all of whom were shocked at first, but developed a newfound respect for Sephiroth after learning of its origins. Angeal and Genesis, in particular, even had the honor of babysitting for the little guy during press meetings. When the latter two deserted, Sephiroth was crushed, but Pichu did wonders to keep his spirit afloat: curling into his lap at night, falling asleep on his shoulder… Anything it can possibly do to assure Sephiroth that he wasn’t alone, it did. When it came time to leave for Nibelheim, however, when the inevitable tragedies spiraled, that’s where things started to splinter. Zack awoke one night to Pichu pawing at his face—a small and desperate gesture to get someone to help it. Agreeing to help his friend’s partner out, Zack followed Pichu to the basement of ShinRa manor, where he found Sephiroth in the heart of an eerie, candlelit library. He told them to leave—both of them. Zack tried to gently talk things out; Sephiroth told him to leave even louder. Disheartened, but thinking his friend needs space, Zack took Pichu and leaves. In the following days, he tried to comfort the anxious Pichu, telling it that Seph just needs some time to breathe and digest everything he learned. He told it that Seph will snap out of it soon—that he will return for his best friend. He promises it. Assures it. And yet, when that seventh day arrives, the town went up in flames. Villagers were killed, slaughtered, as well as every Pokémon in his wake. All the man could think about was her. Mother. His birthright. His planet. Revenge. Humans. The urge to destroy—the need to kill… The bleary shapes that he cuts down are nothing—meaningless little insects in the greater design of his world. His blade slashed through them all, cut them open and left them to burn in the hellish flames engulfing the village. They were all irrelevant—every single one of them. Meaningless. Worthless. Just kill time. Just kill them, She whispers. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill.

“SEPHIROTH, DON’T—“

It’s too late.

Masamune had already struck, deaf to the young SOLDIER’s horrified plea.

And blind to the sight of Pichu staked through it.

Moves:

Nuzzle

Nasty Plot

Facade

Wish

[bowieandqueen11]

The Mausoleum / Klaus Hargreeves Imagine

Not requested but wanted to write some comfort for poor Klaus and also give me some more practice writing again!

Warning: some strong language!

(I do not own the Umbrella Academy or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @capinejghafa.)

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

‘Are you sure this is such a good idea?’

Ben’s timid voice warbles out from beside your ear, but you’re too busy shoving half-wrapped peanut butter and jelly sandwiches into your knapsack to really pay attention to his hesitancy. You raise an eyebrow at him and he sighs in return, looking dolefully down at the bottle of chocolate milk he hands to you.

‘If I don’t go, how much longer do you think Klaus is going to last out there? This is the third time this week dear old daddy dickhead has locked him out there, and each time he comes back he’s even quieter than the last. It’s starting to scare me Ben.’ The young boy who should be far to young to already know the horrors of which you speak swallows thickly beside you; his left hand gives him away as it unconsciously reaches up to grip at his pyjama top, nails digging into the meat of his stomach. The other hand grips onto the frame of the kitchen chair and squeezes until his knuckles burn white. ‘I know. It’s scaring me too.’ 

You make to go, but before you can turn towards the stairs Ben has desperately taken a step forward and grabbed onto your bicep. With a fear-stricken face, he tries and tugs you back towards the dim mothy glow of the open fridge light, nearly knocking a jar of mayonnaise onto the floor with the effort. ‘But Y/n, dad will kill you if he catches you sneaking out there again! He called my bluff the last time you went down the fire escape, and he swore till he was red in the face if you did it another time he’d lock you away and I’d never see you again!’

You could the tears beginning to swell in Ben’s eyes as he began to tremble, his fingers jumping in a mixture of fear and overwhelming resentment as you placed one of your own tenderly on top of it. ‘What the hell am I going to do if you go? It’ll be so lonely here without you, I might as well be a ghost with how much the others just look through me.’ He wipes the back of his nose with his sleeve and looks deploringly at you, begging you to just stay and come back up the stairs into the safety of bed. But you can’t do it. You just can’t. 

‘Something happens to him out there Ben, and if Luther won’t do something to stop it, the least I can try and do is make sure my brother doesn’t have to go through it alone.’

He knew it had been a slim chance, but he was disappointed all the same. He just nodded, finally letting you go and your arm fell back down to your side with an unceremonious slump. ‘Hey, if I do get kicked out, you can just bribe into using his powers to help you come and see me!’, you joke in an attempt to try and cheer your brother up, but he just rolls his eyes and turns his back to you, beginning the long chore of cleaning up the plates and knives you had used to make some snacks for Klaus. You sigh, running up behind him to surprise him with one final tight hug round his back, before turning on your heels and heading straight for your bedroom window.

It didn’t take very long for you to hear Klaus’ screams once you had clambered down the very rusty, very rickety looking ladder attached by rusting screws to the outer wall of the Academy. They were faint at first: jagged and piercing as they scattered across the white marble tombstones like weak moonlight. You shook your torch, swearing indistinctly at it as the thin beam began to flicker across the tangled weeds and unkempt dirt that scraped across your angles. Trying to swallow the nervousness that was starting to crawl its way up your belly and into your throat, you gave it a final slap against your palm: just in time for it to fully illuminate how close you had wandered to an angel statue on the edge of the lot. Nearly walking into its stern, moss coated nose, you yelp as you take a stumble back onto the thin stretch of cobblestoned walkway that leads to the mausoleum. With a hand on your heart, you double over and take a second to try and recapture your breath - a second that is cut short by the sound of a shriek of pure terror that seemed to be echoing around the finger scratched walls of the crypt.

You run the rest of the way, no other thought or care in your head except the need to reach Klaus before something unimaginably terrible happened.

‘Klaus - Klaus, it’s me! Can you hear me? I’m right here, hold on a sec!’ You slide to a halt, wincing as you skid through the dirt and slam your shoulder into the imposing bars lining the crypt door. Trying to shine your torch through the sliver of gap left between the door and the frame, you barely manage to make out the blur of tufty hair as you squint.

‘Y/n, please! PLEASE! Please help me!’, he sobs, scratching at the hinges of the door and heaving between his cries. You hear a thump against the metal; Klaus’ voice reverbs from further towards the floor, alerting you to the fact that in his desperation to escape, he’s probably injured himself by falling onto his knees. 

‘PLEASE. Make them STOP! Y/N!’ He’s full on blubbering crying now as you try with every pounding fibre of your being to inch the door further and further open with your telekinesis power. Becoming frustrated at the slow progress, you try to help it along by clawing at the handle of the door yourself; you lift one booted foot to the door and heave backwards, nearly flying onto the crusty top of a grave as you tugged. Klaus joined you, the last bit of energy he had left being used to flatten his palms against his side of the door and push, before being followed by a few dull thuds and the sound of frantic scraping of fingernails.

Except for your grunts of effort, and one last ear-splitting shrill from Klaus, the night seems to settle into an even more uneasy quietness. A cold solitude settles over your back and sends goose bumps shooting over your muscles as you continue to work alone, praying the quavering zombie moans coming from behind the locked door aren’t the sound of Klaus joining the dead.

You nearly cry in relief when the heavy door finally swings backwards, flooding the shrouded room with clouded starlight. For a second, Klaus seems to have forgotten it was you looming like the boogeyman on top of the steps. He shivers, emitting a broken yelp as he cowers into himself and squeezes his eyes shut tighter, the tears beginning to burn into his skin. 

Jumping down the stairs, you don’t even care that you nearly twist over your ankle as you come skidding to a halt next to your inconsolable brother. Even when you place your hands on your shoulder and come kneeling down next to them, they seem to heave like dying gasps against the darkness, trying to shove you off of him. ‘Klaus, Klaus, it’s me - it’s me! It’s not Reggie, it’s me, it’s okay.’ It takes a few goes to try and get past his ducking head as you reach round his fingers and unclasp them from his face. He refuses to open his eyes until you manage to cup his cheeks, turning him quite abruptly with a heartfelt impatience towards you. They feel damp, and cold, so very cold against your fingertips, and yet it’s the most welcome feeling in the world when you begin to detect the hints of warmness: of life in his soft cheeks too.

‘Y-Y/n?’ He sniffles, and you feel your heart cleave in two as he musters all his courage to blink open just one eye at you. When he finally seems to come to his senses, you wouldn’t have been able to claw Klaus Hargreeves off you even if you had a thousand years and the weight of a million men. He tumbles head first against you, knocking your hands back into a pile of crunchy, dry leaves as he leaps his arms around your neck and nestles his head there too for good measure.

‘Please- please don’t leave me here. They won’t... they won’t stop screaming.’ You can feel his hands fist into the back of your blazer. ‘I want to go home.’

‘Oh Klausey’, you start to card your fingers through the back of his hair, the two of you so wrapped up in just gripping onto each other for dear life that you don’t realise he’s crying into your shirt - the wet patch that soon will give your evening activities away to Sir Reginald Hargreeves. For the moment, those thoughts are far in the recesses of your mind; you bump the side of your head against Klaus’ ear, and use your free hand to rub up and down his back as his stifled whimpers begin to wind down into sniffs.

‘We’ll go home soon, once the sun comes up.’

‘And you’ll let me sleep in your room again?’

‘Do you really even have to ask?’ 

He seems to calm down at that: his breath evens out into long sighs, his vice around you loosening until he’s able to pull slightly back from you and look into your eyes with his own blood-shot ones. He even does his best to try and smile at you, a sudden tired relish shuddering through his heart at the realisation that there was actually someone in the world that cared about him. That loved him. And that he loved more than anything too. The sudden fear that grips him at the thought of you ever going away from him was enough to distract him from the ghosts for a moment; instead he turns his efforts into reaching out and gripping your fingers with a forlorn frown.

‘And we can hide under the blankets again?’

‘Old Reggie will never find us there, Klaus. Or the ghosts. You’ll be safe with me forever, I promise.’

[toasttt11]

my au’s favorites and facts

august crosby

favorites

blueberry waffles

blueberry muffins

sidney’s banana bread

tea, any kind

tacos! specifically street tacos

her moms blueberry pie

favorite season is spring

favorite color is soft orange like the sunset

she loves sunflowers or roses

facts

always loved anything to do with baking, tends to stress back when feeling overwhelmed, any free time she enjoys using it by baking, especially with her diet she can’t eat all of what she bakes she ends up donating most of it or bringing it for the staff of the arena.

loves starting her day off with a run, especially outside and getting some fresh air.

is a big gift giver and is always giving gifts to the ones she cares for.

genuinely adores being a godmother and is always looking for presents and trinkets to bring or send to them, she also makes sure she had everything for them at her house when they come to visit her.

loves when she has free time to explore around outside and find hikes she likes, she has found a lot of trails in vegas that she loves.

brinley matthews

favorites

peanut butter M&Ms

peanut butter and bananas

steak, loves anything that is grilled

s’mores with peanut butter

peanut butter and jelly sandwiches

peanut butter and chocolate workout shakes

favorite season is summer

favorite color is yellow

favorite flower are baby’s breath especially the rainbow ones

facts

hates being cold, always on the ice is wearing a long sleeve compression shirt under her jersey to not be cold.

has some thing peanut butter before every game no matter what.

crochet has been something she has done most her life, it’s what she always has with her during travel.

always had curly hair and has always hated it, never likes trying to style it and ends up getting it straighten and getting treatments for it stay that way.

has always been very tall and was used to he taller than most of her teammates even though she is a girl.

loves animals specially dogs, and has always wanted to have her own dog.

maleah barzal

favorites

grilled cheese and tomato soup

french fries

anything dark chocolate and raspberry

cheesecake

favorite season is winter

favorite color is lilac

lavender is her favorite sent and flowers

facts

she hates to cook but is very good at, Malakai loves his moms cooking and makes him mom not hating cooking as much.

rarely ever drives and one of the first things she bought for herself was hiring a driver.

always has some kind of sketchbook or tablet with her in case she gets an idea.

she always carries her big purse that’s filled with work, her sons toys and always snacks for him.

maleah could of easily continued her hockey career and without a doubt would of been an amazing player but she never had the passion for it like others do.

always enjoys designing clothes for people she cares for and has lines of clothes in honor of some of the people she is closest with and the lines are inspired by their styles.

carina knies

favorites

anything coffee, she needs it to survive

lettuce wraps, anything for the filling

salmon bowls!

not the biggest sweets person but loves sweets that are lemon flavored

favorite flowers are orchids

loves summer

favorite color is purple

facts

during a trip to her grandparents when she was younger she tried pottery and fell in love with it, she continued to do pottery since then and it’s something she’s loves to do to de stress and something completely away from hockey.

Joseph and Carina had to build many sleeves and bookcases for all of the legos he has given her and the ones he no doubt will continue to give her.

carina is not a big jewelry person but she has a few pieces that she really loves.

she is quite protective of her little brother matthew and he is probably one of her more soft spots, not that she lets anyone know that.

is a big dog person.

gemma fantilli

favorites

cesar salads are one of her absolute favorites

spring rolls and any type Chinese food

chocolate chip cookies

favorite flowers are periwinkles

loves winter especially if there is snow

favorite color is green and yellows

facts

she loves vintage jewelry, her favorite piece is a heart locket her grandmother had given her, sadly when her grandmother passed away she left all her jewelry for her Gemma.

snowboarding is her absolute favorite thing to do outside of hockey, if she had tried snowboarding before she did hockey she most likely would’ve pursued a career in snowboarding instead.

macklin and gemma are always finding new shows to watch together, and while they can’t always watch all the episodes together they watch most of season together.

always wear her beaded bracelet that she had matching with Macklin.

phoenix zegras

favorites

any type of crepes especially with nutella

big coffee person, loves chocolate in it

chocolate crossiant

favorite color is orange

likes just red roses

summer is his favorite season because he’s see his family more.

facts

favorite thing to do other than hockey is playing his electric guitar.

he’s the oldest sibling and his siblings use to always follow his him around like little ducklings.

he really likes to watch sunsets.

he spends a lot of his free time with his godsons.

viola hughes

favorite

caramel coffee is her favorite

anything with caramel

ice cream

favorite flowers are sunflowers

favorite season is summer

favorite color is purple

facts

she has the biggest sweet tooth and is always having something sweet even with her diet.

likes to be in the passenger seat when she’s in the car, doesn’t like to drive after her accident.

she loves wearing fun sunglasses and tends to always have them on her face or in her hair in the summer.

likes to find new hiking spots and arizona has a lot she can try.

livia drysdale

favorites

chocolate chip cookies

pizza is one of her favorite cheat meals

hummus and pita chips

doesn’t have a favorite flower she loves all of them

favorite color is green

favorite season is winter

facts

always wears gold jewelry.

when she was younger she would beg for her brothers or parents to make her cookies.

she use to hate her all of her freckles but seeing how much wyatt loves them she grew to like the.

always has some type of plants in her house and her parents have so many at their house from her, jamie also has some in his house from her.

willa smith

favorites

loves anything lobster

her moms protein smoothies

most of her meals are chipotle

favorite color is blue

favorite animal is dogs

favorite season is definitely summer

favorite animal are dogs

facts

most of the time her music is always playing taylor swift.

she really wants a golden retriever.

since she was a kid she’s always had some type of braids in her hair.

blue has always been her favorite color and almost always she boys something it’s in blue, she always gets her hockey stick blue.

has a gold necklace with her initial on it, she gets a smaller necklace with gabe and ryan’s initials and starts wearing that one too.

[meet-me-backstage]

⎈

𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐨 𝐄𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐱 ⎈ 𝐆𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 🦇 Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 🦇 You get dragged into the unfathomable events at Starcourt Mall by your hopeless crush on Billy Hargrove and new-found middle-schooler friends. You struggle to cope with the trauma which gradually costs you your popular cheerleader reputation when you return to high school for senior year. Though this loss first appears to be the end of the world, you learn that there's worse things than levelling down in popularity.

Though even in darkness, there is always a light - for you this is Eddie Munson, who you gain an unlikely friendship in and fall for him in the process.

𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒂 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍 𝒔𝒍𝒐𝒘 𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒍𝒐𝒕𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒖𝒑𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒏𝒔, 𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚 𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈!

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 🦇 smoking, mention of and consumption of drugs, horror themes, violence (in the upside down and probs Steve losing another fight (•̀ᴗ•́)و jk jk he's king), nightmares, mention of and consumption of alcohol, mention of and a near death experience, death, bad language, blood, bullying, mention of vomit and vomiting, some domestic (mainly verbal and emotional) abuse(‼️), mention of suicidal thoughts, mention of suicide, mention of self-harm, allusion to eating disorder and smUUT so you have to be 18+ to read this series❗️

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐱 🦇 2.1K words

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐱 🦇 Bad language, domestic abuse (verbal and physical)!

𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 - 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝, 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲, 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠!

𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲, 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐨 𝐄𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝! <𝟑

⇜ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞 ⎈ 𝐎𝐳𝐳𝐲 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐢𝐠𝐞𝐫

🦇 𝟑𝐫𝐝 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐞, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟓 🦇

You finally come home after a day of being cozily cooped up in your dad’s trailer. It isn’t your decision to leave, Rebecca shows up, knocking at the trailer door, her arms crossed when your dad opens it with a massive grin on his face, seeing his eldest daughter for the first time in months, "Becky, it's so good to see you!"

Rebecca tries to sneak a look behind him to get a better view of inside the trailer.

You are sat at the table with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in your hands, about to take a bite out of it before stopping your movement when you hear her voice.

"Is she here?" She asks expectantly, she already knows the answer because where else could you be? Unless you’d ran away to live with Mason... but that is almost an impossibility, considering the fact that you have no idea where he is living right now.

"Yes, she's been here - safe," your dad opens the door wider, allowing Rebecca to get a full view of the trailer and revealing your presence, “How are you, Becky? I’ve missed you so mu-.”

Rebecca ignores him, pushing past him. She storms towards you, leaning over the table and you, "Mom and I have been worried sick about you and you've just been here jamming sandwiches in your mouth?!"

"Yes I have,” you shrug and hum, taking a bite of the sandwich and Rebecca huffs before slapping it out of your hands, making it fall onto the floor in pieces, "Hey - not cool, I was eating that!" You stand up directly in front of Rebecca while your dad tries to clear the mess that your sandwich had made.

"You're gonna get in the car with me and I'm gonna drive you home," she steps closer, making herself much taller than you, trying to make you feel inferior.

"I'm not a baby, you can't push me around anymore, Becky - things have changed," ever since 1984 had ended, "and if anything, I'm cycling back myself - there’s no way I’m getting in that car with you."

"Is this about the stupid party? I'm sick of that silly little stink eye I get from you every time I'm in your goddamn eye-line, whenever I walk in the room, whenever I tal-," her voice raises.

"No, it's not just about the fucking party - it's about being back there with mom, pretending like everything is okay when it's not been okay for ages - that's why Mason left - and we're acting like he's the one in the wrong for leaving when actually maybe we should be praising him... you and mom made me feel like I should forget his existence, like he’s some extinct animal!" Rebecca blinks and you decide you’re not done there, adrenaline pumps through your veins from the freedom you’d experienced over the last day with your dad, "I'm sick of not being able to even say his name and - I'm sick of being told I'm not allowed to play basketball or make friends who aren’t on cheer team and I'm sick of being babied by the two of yo-."

"Stop fighting, girls!" Dad shouts, completely distressed, and understandably so because this probably wasn’t how he was expecting his reunion with both his daughters would go. He slams his hands on the counter in the box-like kitchen, startling both you and Rebecca into complete silence.

Rebecca breathes deeply, giving you a warning glare, "You're already grounded - just you wait until I tell mom what you've just said to me... if you don't come home right now it'll only be even worse for you."

You couldn't run like Mason had done. You have no way of escaping Hawkins with your mom and sister's beady eyes relentlessly on you - and another year of school to complete... you are left defeated yet again and you have no choice but to obey, so you nod, "Ok," you grumble under your breath.

Rebecca nods, "Okay," she lets her arms fall to her side as she relaxes. She’s probably received a lot of flack from mom to find me - it’s probably why she is being so mean, "Let's go."

You hum and reluctantly follow behind your big sister, your dad is stood in the kitchen still, his head bowed... he looks so weak when he lifts his head at the sound of Rebecca opening the door, it looks like it takes all of his strength to move... you really don’t want to go but he doesn’t tell you to stay, instead he mouths 'sorry darling', you nod your head and lift your hand, waving him goodbye.

Once you’re both outside you mumble, loud enough for Rebecca to hear, "I meant it when I said I'd cycle home."

"Fine," she huffs, her face red from embarrassment, knowing that other residents in the trailer park had probably heard the commotion inside your dad’s trailer. Eddie had certainly heard it because he is peeking from a window inside his uncle’s trailer. You don’t notice until after Rebecca has caught him, "You wanna ruin my day some more? Send the devil after me? Go ahead, freak - let's see what you've got!"

Behind the reflection of the glass, he looks nothing other than petrified, humiliated and he disappears from view suddenly, quickly drawing the curtains.

"That's what I thought - stay hiding in your little freaky lair!" She shouts before stomping to her car, leaving you staring in shock at the window Eddie Munson had been looking out of.

"Seriously, Rebecca?!" You shout in a whisper, catching up with her, "I know you don't like the guy all that much but that was uncalled for."

She abruptly turns to face you after opening her car door, "You've spent way too long on this trailer dump - you're now siding with Eddie 'the freak' Munson?"

You walk slower and come to a halt in front of your bike, growing nervous... because I am siding with Eddie 'the freak' Munson? You shake your head, denying that you had seen the same scared look on his face before in the cafeteria, on the sidewalk… Like he doesn’t deserve an ounce of your mind's capacity because you know that it’ll bite you on the ass, your popularity, your life at home and school, "No, I'm not," you state, standing defensively, crossing your arms, "I just want to go back home with you to mom, okay?"

Being grounded meant that at least you can go to school, work with Chrissy at ‘The Gap’, stay in your room with checkups from either your mom or Rebecca every half an hour. You know that it’s going to be hell from previous experiences of being grounded, so you utter that massive lie because you do not want to make it any worse for yourself.

Tears spill from your eyes as you cycle. The wind, at the speed you are going, sends the droplets flying behind you and probably landing themselves on the front window of Rebecca's car. The thought of being trapped in your room makes them continue to spill as you consider turning in one motion and going back to your dad's trailer to stay with him for good... a sense of dread fills you with each pedal you make, getting closer to being given your sentence.

You look over your shoulder a couple times at Rebecca through her car window, but she just stares straight ahead, ignoring you like you’d been ignoring her since the party.

She continues to ignore you once you’ve arrived home, but holds onto the neck of your t-shirt to stop you from running away again.

"Get inside, missy," your mom spits as soon as she opens the door and sees you stood on the front step, wallowing in self pity.

"M-mom," you mumble, frozen on the spot.

"She was cooped up at dad's trailer with peanut butter jelly sandwiches - a basketball," Rebecca interrupts the intense stares between you and your mom. Rebecca stands up straight, probably relieved that she isn’t the one being punished for your absence... now your mom’s fury is aimed at you - again. Your mom looks horrified, disappointed, furious and her lips are trembling as if she can’t speak from the intensity of all those feelings combined. Rebecca continues, "Apparently she doesn't want to be babied anymore and she wants - Mason back - she blames you for him leaving us."

You look up at Rebecca with glossy eyes, the area around them probably red as hell from crying your way 'home'. Your mouth is agape as Rebecca looks at mom almost... smugly, as if she'd done something good.

You knew that Rebecca had the capability to be cruel, but when did she get this cruel? So much for sisterly affection... if we ever even had that… it'd died a death, been run over by a car with mom being the driver. You realise in this moment that all Rebecca cares about is saving herself... and your mom, because she knows that if she disobeys her then she'd no longer be the 'favorite'.

She never cared about me, all of her 'guidance' at the beginning of high school was to save her own ass and reputation... she didn't want what she considered an embarrassment of a sister to be messing up her popularity... and now she's getting what she's always wanted, she's finally graduating and going to fly from the nest to Alex on good terms with mom, still the favorite... unlike Mason and me.

You realise that you’re still glaring up at Rebecca while thinking all of these thoughts. Rebecca is staring nervously down at you... the smug expression she had on her face before has now fallen, there is sadness in her eyes... it’s like she knows what you’d been thinking, that you’d realised what she is, and she is only sorry because she’d been caught by you.

"Don't you dare look at your sister that way - you should be grateful," your mom shouts in a whisper, not wanting to attract the attention of any neighbours, "She's been looking everywhere for you."

Only for her own gain, not because she cares about me.

If you hadn’t been so scared you would’ve laughed loudly. You manage to compose yourself from doing that, but a small, breathless giggle leaves your lips for about a millisecond before realising what you’d done. You wonder if they hadn't seen, but you quickly gather that, that is hopeless and wishful thinking.

Your mom had immediately noticed and unexpectedly, she grabs you by your hair, pulling you inside of the house.

You yelp all of the way inside and Rebecca follows behind, shutting the front door. You can’t see her expression but if you could take a guess it'd either be fear or relief that it isn’t her experiencing this level of pain being inflicted by your mom.

Your eyes are fixed upon the carpet but your vision is blurry from the tears that are building up uncontrollably. Your heart is pounding at the same time as you realise just how angry your mom is. You bring your hand up to your scalp which is now seething with pain and will definitely be keeping you awake tonight - you try to soothe it by stroking the top of your head.

"Look at me now," your mom scowls, still stood directly in front of you, her arms are crossed.

You expect it to be over, the ache in your head being the only physical pain you’d have to endure for the next few days... you figure it'd be better if you just did what your mom told you to, then she wouldn't be so harsh... but as you lift your head slowly, shaking from terror, about to make eye contact with her, you suddenly yelp and flinch because your mom brings her hand up and... Slap!

She hits you so fast that you don’t properly register it even after both her hands are back at her sides.

Broken sobs keep leaving your lips as you bring your other hand to your cheek, which is stinging just as badly as the top of your head. Every ounce of your being is shaking and trembling with fear because your mom had never laid a hand on you like that before… and you never want it to happen ever again, so you continue to follow her demand and open your eyes, looking her in the eyes.

"You are not to leave your room for the entire summer - you are going to go to school in Rebecca's car, and you are coming straight back home after your lessons. You will not be having dinner or any snacks and you are not going to work at the mall with Chrissy on weekends," she points her finger at you with each syllable she utters while you continue to let out little sobs, "If I ever hear you say your brother's name, or see a basketball in your room, or hear that you're seeking refuge at your father's trailer again - you will receive another one of these," she gestures to the hand that had just slapped you, raising it again for a moment just to make you flinch.

You breathe in little fragmented breaths and stare down her hand in shock even after it falls back to her side. You nod your head rapidly, "O-okay, mom," you say in a hurry, weakly before running past your mom and up the stairs. You look down at an anxious-looking Rebecca, whose mouth is agape and watching you from the bottom of the stairs… she looks just as scared as you are.

You continue to run after, slamming your bedroom door shut and leaning your entire weight against it. Your chest rapidly rises and falls as you breathe loudly, gasping for air. You let yourself slide down the wood of the door until you’re sat on the floor, hugging your knees into your chest for an ounce of comfort.

Your mind is racing and whirling, trying to process all of your feelings, but it’s difficult with the lingering ache you felt on your cheek - which you can feel is bruising.

All that you’re sure of is that your sister and your mom hate you too… that you have nobody, nothing to lean onto but your bedroom door for the foreseeable future.

⇝ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 ⎈ 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐝

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆!!!!! 𝐈𝐭'𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐲 <𝟑

𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 ‘𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐨 𝐄𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲’ 𝐨𝐫 ’𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐌𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧’ 𝐭𝐚𝐠-𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰!

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 ↯

𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐨 𝐄𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲

@sadbitchfangirl @ali-r3n @marvel-sw-lover

𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐌𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

@introvertedmouse @munsonology @fastnights @kathieycarrerarosshley @marjoriea13 @goldengunspinkrosses-blog @lolalanaie @neteyamsluvts

⎈

[willowworkswithwords]

Eddie hates his hair. It never does what his mom tries to get it to do, when she’s out of the stupor of drugs long enough to notice the state it’s in. Either way, it’s always breakin the teeth of the cheap combs his dad buys him when Eddie’d starts to complain of it getting all gross. 

There are only so many times his hair can get wadded into a pile on the top of his head or have a brush torn through it again and again before he starts to shy away, to dread anyone touching his hair at all. 

His dad threatens a razor. Eddie might hate his hair, but he hates the idea of his dad getting close to him with his shaving razor even more. 

Things have been…ok, for a while. Eddie can feel it though. The inevitable is coming soon, and the longer the good sticks around, the harder it becomes to believe in it. What way the bad will come, Eddie can’t tell, can never really tell, but he tries his best to ready himself for it. This school in Indianapolis has been one of the better ones he’s been switching around to since they came to Indy a couple years ago from Kentucky. 

Kentucky feels like a dream.

Kentucky was the best part of his life he can remember. In Kentucky, he’d had a group of friends, all kinda like him, all scrappy trailer park kids, and he’d drifted between all of their trailers. Back then, they’d come to his trailer too, before his mom had sunk down all the way, before his dad had turned out to be an angry drunk. They’d all sleep sprawled out on the floor of each other’s bedrooms, making room for the siblings when they were there. Eddie was only hungry about half the time, and he had never really been scared of much back then.

He knows better now. 

They’re in Indianapolis, in a tiny apartment that Eddie tries not to think about how his dad got. There’s no way they can afford it with his real job, even though it’s a shithole. But Eddie’s twelve now. He’s not stupid. So he keeps his mouth shut around his dad and takes care of his mom when he’s not at school.

His hair sits under a hat more often than not. He tries to run his fingers through it, the comb, anything. One night he sneaks some margarine from the fridge and tries to get the knots to slip and slide out from each other. It only makes him look dirtier. A couple weeks pass and it’s not getting any better. A rainy day comes. Eddie has a purple bruise on his gaunt cheek that his mom smears the thinnest layer of foundation over, just enough to hide it and not enough for his dad to notice the makeup on his son’s face. 

Annie is sitting in the library during lunch, in front of the window they always eat at. It’s a muggy day for April, but she still wears long sleeves. 

Annie’s eleven, a year younger than Eddie but just as smart, probably smarter. All the kids make fun of her hair, which rests in fraying braids across her shoulders. She’d told him once, one of the first times they’d both taken refuge in the library, that her mom didn’t have the time to do her and all her sibling’s hair. As the oldest, Annie helped all the others, but it was hard for her to do her own. It just fell by the wayside. Not all the time, but enough. Eddie and her were the same, she’d said once, no matter that everyone thought they couldn’t be because she was Black and he was trailer trash. 

Her dad hit her too. She always told him it was better her than her little siblings.

“Hey Annie.”

“Hey Eddie.” 

Annie smiles as he sits down, goes back to her book. Eddie sits across from her on the sill, grabbing a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for her out of his lunch sack. Wordlessly, he sets it to her right. Nudges her foot with his. She doesn’t pick it up for a minute, and Eddie smirks to himself as he sees her mouthing the words as she finishes her page. 

They’re both left behind, but in these moments, the space between them and what they kn ow they lack is smaller. 

“Hey Annie?”

Eddie can’t look her in the eye, instead picking apart his sandwich. Annie hums, taking a bite of her PB&J. 

“Could you maybe…could you maybe help me? With, with my hair.”

Still not looking up from his sandwich, Eddie pulls off his hat. 

“Jesus H. Christ.”

Eddie can’t help butler out a bark of laughter.

“...Yeah, I know.”

Eddie glances up at her, and she’s just looking at him. Calculating, like she gets with books that her teachers say are too old for her. Thinking of the best way to tackle it. 

“Meet me in the theater dressing rooms tomorrow after dismissal.”

Tomorrow can’t come quick enough. 

Eddie goes home and makes dinner for him and his mom, writes his book report, and sneaks  beside his mom in her bed to read The Two Towers after she’d been asleep for a couple hours already. He’s just finished The Fellowship of the Ring and he can’t put it down. When he gets tired he sets his book down on the nightstand his dad never uses and presses his face into his mom’s back, feeling the rise and fall of each of heI r breaths as he slowly slips into sleep and dreams of his hair long and glossy, falling around his shoulders just like his mom’s.

[alexiswritingstuff]

Human - Pt. 2

Masterlist

Status: Complete.

Pairing: Castiel x gn! reader.

Summary: Now that the fallen angel had been located, it was finally time to relax. Though, when the reader spotted Castiel’s lack of an iconic coat, a new journey was just about to begin. 

Content/Warnings: fluff, descriptions of sensory overload/overstimulation. 

Parts: one - two - three

A/N: This was originally supposed to be longer, due to the addition of another scene, but while writing it I realised that it was quite lengthy. I’m not sure what people’s opinions on long posts are.

So, I guess my question, now, is...

Would you guys like a part 3??

Tag list: @elizabeth-skywalker -  @aliceblxck​

Dusk had fallen a few hours ago. 

A deep amber light shone through the gaps in the curtains that draped across the window, and the beams blared onto any surface it could. Including the exposed skin of your face whenever you leaned down to take a bite.

Your back smoothed against the chair beneath you, the gaze, that was once on the food in your hands, shifting when a sigh had come from the other side of the table.

By the time your eyes had actually landed on the culprit, he had taken another chunk out of his own sandwich. It was a hasty movement. One that ended with some filling stuck to the corners of his mouth, crumbs spilling onto his lap.

There was an odd feeling that resided in your chest as you watched Castiel practically scoff down his food. 

You couldn’t tell if it was because of him generally eating in the first place, or because the last time that you had seen him eat like this was when you had that run in with Greed.

But either way, he looked... happy. Relieved. At peace. 

Who knows the last time he felt that.

Cas must have sensed your stare as he suddenly met it with almost half-lidded eyes. “What?” he questioned. But of course, it was through a mouthful of food. You couldn’t recreate the sound if you tried.

Amused by the attempt, a smile threatened to form on your lips while you shook your head. Only just managing to have swallowed down your own mouthful. 

“Nothing, nothing.” you insisted, and placed your sandwich onto the extra piece of saran wrap to now use as a plate, “So.” You cleared your throat, “How are you adjusting to, you know...”

“Feeling?”

Castiel made another sound, that seemed to be in acknowledgement, as he took in your question. Though, when he actually went to speak... his mouth was still full. 

You slightly leaned forward in your chair, awaiting Cas to get rid of the sandwich reminants. And soon he did, even taking a moment to check that all of it was gone. “I seem to have forgotten how... truly, intense hunger feels.”

“The need to fill your stomach, the endless amount of tastes,” His eyes fell back to the sandwich in his hands, “And this.” Castiel continued before holding it up, as if it couldn’t be seen already, “It’s extraordinary.”

“Cas, It’s just peanut butter and jelly.” you pointed out after tilting your head to the side, the amusement you felt never seeming to fade. 

“Exactly,” Castiel affirmed without an ounce of hesitation. Those eyes of his had settled on yours once again, and a look of wonder, fascination, swirled through them. 

“How does one think of such a combination?”

It was a good question. One that hadn’t actually gone through your mind before, meaning that now you were sat looking into the distance as you thought. Searching for an answer. “Uh...”

“Well, I guess, for me... It’s through a form of habit?” you finally spoke with a shrug of your shoulders. “I was already eating one when I made it, so... I thought it would be nice for you to try.”

“I guess I was right.”

In that moment, the hungry movements from the opposite side of the table abated. 

Castiel narrowed his eyes, “You made this?” He spoke with such genuine surprise, his head tilting the way it usually did when he had some kind of revelation.  

“Mhm,” you hummed slowly, not entirely knowing how to react to the shift of atmosphere, which included the new expression on his face. Your body leaned into the back of the chair. “Like, I said,” You shrugged, “It’s just Peanut Butter and Grape Jelly.”

But despite your attempts to escape the sudden attention, whatever it was that radiated off of Cas never faltered. 

He had even stopped chewing his food, and was now sat staring at you with this look in his eyes. A light smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Thank you.”

“What...” you attempted to question. However, when you actually caught onto the way his lips had shifted, a warmth suddenly shot through your body.

“Just-- Eat your sandwich.” You waved your hand with your words, wanting to dismiss the spotlight in any way possible, and ended up crossing your arms over your chest with a light huff. 

The smile on Castiel’s face only grew in response to your actions. And even though he complied to your dismissal, digging back into the sandwich he practically adored, it wasn’t something he was going to forget. 

“It’s not like I’m Gordon Ramsay, or whatever.” you breathed out through the raised embarrassment. Seemingly stuck in the past conversation, even though Cas was ready to move on. 

The man himself had tried to ask a question. But yet again, it appeared that he had taken a bite moments prior, and it came out as a mumble yet again.

It was a sound that made you forget about the heat that ran through the skin of your hands, and you looked back to Cas, noticing the familiar display of confusion across his features.

“The chef.” you pointed out, once you realised that it was the name that had caused his reaction... But the look remained. 

His head tilted again. 

“He’s a chef. Like one of the most known chefs-- You really don’t know who he is?” 

After taking a moment to properly think, Cas shook his head, swallowing, “I’m afriad I’m not very well versed in anything cookery related.”

You could only hum in response as you looked at him.  

Obviously, It was understandable that he had a lack of knowledge when it came to ‘popular’ things. Especially because of the amount of shit that has been going on, literally, since he stepped on earth for the first time. 

But you thought that he would at least have heard about the chef.

I mean, even Crowley could make some stupid comment about him.

 “Well,” you began after clearing your throat, realising that you had been lost in thought. You straightened your body against the chair beneath you, “We can change that.”

“Actually, since you need to eat now, it would be good to see how things get made.” you pointed out, a smile appearing on your lips at the idea, “I can at least teach you the basics.”

The sandwich in Castiel’s grasp had been offically demolished. “I would like that.” he said as he folded the loose saran wrap. He placed it on the table, moving his hand up to wipe at the crumbs, or contents of the sandwich, that clung to the corners of his mouth. 

As your eyes followed the movement, however, your attention seemed to shift to the sleeve of his jacket. Or rather, the material that it was made of. “Hey,”

It wasn’t the same type, or colour, that you were used to.

“What happened to your coat?”

“My coat?” Cas questioned through a breath, the look of satisfaction clear across his face as he sunk a little in his chair. An action that made it apparent that he was only half listening. 

“Yeah, the trench coat.” you clarified. And it did the trick. You had his attention. 

Castiel’s, once practically half lidded, eyes seemed to have widened slightly. “Oh.”

The voice he spoke through was one you almost didn’t catch. His eyes avoided your gaze. His chin even lowered in a way that looked like he was ashamed. Or guilty. “There was... a small altercation that left it, uh, stained.”

“I only had a certain amount of money.” He cleared his throat, “I could either have used it on one of the washing facilities, or used it to acquire something to consume, and well I...”

“I must say, I was rather thirsty.”

The muscles in your face were tight. Tense. The reminder of how long it took to actually find Cas, in the first place, was now back and fresh, in your mind. 

A deep breath filtered through your lungs as you looked at the man before you. The tired, drained, expression resurfaced across his features the more time your eyes spent analysing the skin. A look you had to fix.

“Would you like to go get another one then?”

The reaction was instant this time. His gaze had practically snapped to yours, almost like he forgot you were even there, as confusion emanated from the man once again. “What?” 

“Yeah, why not?” You shrugged your shoulders, “There’s still a good few hours until the stores begin to close.” you pointed out before gesturing towards the duffle bag, that now resided on the bed, “It’s not like there’s a portable wardrobe in there with endless shoes and coats.”

The next time you spoke, your voice was less casual. Softer, “We can get anything you like, Cas.” An attempt to sweeten the deal, “Maybe... an entierly different coat, or-- or you know, even the same one you had-- Whatever, you want, man, that’s up to you.”

“... That sound good?”

The eye contact that the two of you held never begged to break. The simplicity of your words. The way you made such an offer without hesitation. The way you had said all of it and meant it...

Castiel was baffled.

His lips had parted during the process of astonishment, but it seemed that nothing could form. And there he was all over again. Stuck staring at you like he had won a grand prize. 

“Yes,” Cas managed out after a good few seconds, though it didn’t even look like he knew he had said it. 

But once the final cog had turned in his head, his entire demeanour shifted. 

A certain expression took over his face. It was one that you couldn’t quite recognise as you looked back and forth between those eyes of his. Before you could’ve even tried to ask, however. “Yes, Y/n.”

“It sounds... good.”

~

The two of you had arrived at one of the local clothing branches. The automatic doors slid open when they detected your presence, almost giving the man beside you a heart attack in the process. 

Once you were actually inside, a deep breath filled and exited your lungs as you took in the plethora of items hung on racks, or placed on shelves. 

You were excited. The many shopping sequences you had seen in movies and TV shows had prepared you for this very moment.

“Well,” You didn’t even look at Cas when you spoke. So caught up in the moment that you, somehow, ended up missing the part where you had literally grabbed onto his hand.

“Let’s get started.”

And then you were off. Practically dragging Castiel in any direction that you possibly could.

It was exactly as you imagined.

The next few minutes were spent shuffling through the different shirts on hangers. You would do that thing where you got Cas to stand in front of you, and put the item of clothing on his chest so that you could measure the size of it, compared to him.

The estimate you got may always have been a bit off, considering the fact that he was still wearing that blue jacket, but he didn’t seem to mind it. 

Thus, your journey had continued.

Now, two of you were near the centre of the store, stopping at one of those circular racks so that you could flick through the array of trousers to join the shirts that had been previously slung over your shoulder. “Hey, Cas,”

“You can go look around by yourself if you want?” you began with a sort of laziness from being too focused on the different materials, “I know what stuff to get now, so you can...”

You had spared a glance to Cas midway through speaking.

It was a simple test to gage whether he was actually listening to you or not, as he hadn’t really spoken much since you got there. But when your eyes landed on him, for what was supposed to be a split second, you got your answer.

His head was shaking before you had even finished.

The thing was, though, his gaze wasn’t directed towards you. His eyes were flickering around, almost wildly. His body twisted one way, and then another, in an attempt to take in his surroundings. 

It wasn’t working.

The chatter from various pairs of people, the faint lights above that would flicker ever so slightly from being there, probably, since the store first opened, the different colours of clothes that seemed to blend together the faster Castiel moved his eyes.

It was all new.

You had been so caught up in the excitement; the act of being able to do something for Cas, in return for his continuous generosity, that you had forgotten he was experiencing all of this for the first time.

Feeling all of this for the first time.

So, after mentally cursing at yourself for at least a minute, you moved about a step closer to the man who was still making attempts to process everything around him. And didn’t stop until you could place your hand on his arm. 

Cas looked towards you with such speed that it took your brain a moment to actually acknowledge it when your palm had touched down.

But as soon as it did, you recognised the realisation that began to battled its way through the panic set in his eyes. Finally, he had found something familiar after the constant attacks to his senses.

“How about we go find where the jackets and coats are, huh?” you suggested as lightly as you could while Cas took in a deep breath t to further ground himself.

And when he was able to give you an answer, which in this case was a nod of his head. That was exactly where you went. 

Now, the two of you had begun to look through the items held up by coat hangers, starting at the edges of the racks before working your way towards the middle.

There were quite a few that Cas expressed interest for. He would grab onto the sleeve, and let his fingers trace, back and forth, over the fabric to properly understand the texture.

The problem was, though, that Castiel never had a picky side to him. Almost every jacket, every coat he looked at, there was a list of pros that he could recite as if it was always locked inside of his brain somewhere.

But, after coming across one coat in particular, he unhooked the hanger from the rack. Slightly lifting it so that he could see the full thing. 

Another trench coat.

It shared an incredible resemblance to the one that any person would have seen him in. Same length, same design, and almost the exactly same buttons. 

I mean, to be fair, it was at least a shade darker.

“Is that the one then?”

Castiel had begun nodding his head immediately, “Oh yes,” he breathed out, and lifted the item in front of him so that he could fully see it. His fingers dragged over the length of fabric until they got to the bottom. “Yes, I would say so.”

“Here,” you spoke after getting an idea and grabbed Castiel’s forearm, pulling him along once again before he could utter a word.

Your movements halted at the end of the aisle, the two of you were currently in, which was exactly when Cas’s eyes found his reflection staring right back at him. A mirror.

The man sort of stood there for a moment. Gazing at the face, that was doing the same to him, before his attention dragged over to you. As if asking for confirmation.

“See if it fits.” you stated simply with a gesture towards the coat in his hands. 

And he did exactly that. Castiel slid the coat off of the hanger, passed it to you, and then began pulling the material over his--

“No, no, Cas,” He paused his movements, “Take-- You need to take that jacket off first, and then... Yeah,” you pointed out, your words fading away when he seemed to get the gist. “Yeah, that’s it.”

Soon, yet another piece of clothing joined the pile that slung over your shoulder. You repositioned Cas so that he now stood directly in front of the mirror. 

“All right.” The coat was now in your hands as you moved behind him. You draped it over his shoulders, moving to his left side in order to guide where his arm needed to go so he could do the rest...

But that’s when your eyes found something on his upper arm.

There was a jagged slit in the material of his shirt. A dark, dryish, stain surrounded it, and contrasted with the original colour of the button up in a way that made it easy to see what shade the substance was before it had seeped through.

Red.

“Cas, is that...” You, gently, pushed him back round when he turned to face you, the coat slipping from his shoulders and almost landing on the floor until it recoiled in your grasp, “That’s-- Cas, that’s blood, what... What happened?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were injured?”

Castiel sort of crained his neck so that he could see over his shoulder. And then he spotted it. “Oh,” he spoke with such simplicity that had your eyebrows furrowing within seconds. “I... I must have forgot.”

“For--- How could you forget an injury like this?” you questioned immediately, and swung the trench coat over your shoulder. “If it’s bleeding like that, then... Cas, this most likely needs stitches.”

Your hands raised to his upper arm so that it could be properly inspected. “Do you even know how to clean a wound?”

As your fingers gently tested the surrounding area, trying to gage just how big this injury was. You realised that there had been no response to your previous ramble of questions.

Not a word.

So, while continuing your inspection, you let your eyes quickly flicker to Castiel’s face that was still aimed in your direction. Only to see that he was looking right back at you. That same fondness tugging at his features.

Your movements mildly froze for a second, your eyes flicking between the two oceans that seemed to flow to your soul. And then you sighed, forcing your focus back to wound with a new heat rising in your chest.

“All right, look,” You cleared your throat, “This... I’m going to fix this when we get back ho-- to the motel.” you insisted, taking a step back from Cas so that you could point a finger at him. “And you’re going to tell me everything that happened.”

“Everything.” you further insisted, and watched as Castiel sort of sighed before he nodded in understanding. “Okay.” he agreed.

Your head shook in an attempt to dismiss the amusement that still radiated off of Cas nevertheless. “Good.” you huffed, patting him on the back before retrieving the trench coat from your shoulder. “Now.”

“Actually try that on, and then we can figure out what else you need.”

~

Finally. After the shopping spree that was fit for a movie was completed, and night had officially claimed the sky. It was time to go home.

Piles of bags and boxes were shoved in the boot as well as onto some of the seats, meaning that by the time two bodies had flopped into their rightful places. The car was beyond full. “Right, so.”

“Got clothes, including a new coat, got shoes, got more food. And now…?” you listed off while your body leaned into the seat. Your fingers grasped the steering wheel while your eyes searched through the rearview mirror to find the other pair.

“We can go back to the motel.” Castiel confirmed, and a fresh feeling of relief flooded through your body, though you never showed it. “You know what? Good call.” Was the only thing you said before the car was started up.

The journey home had begun.

Light from streetlamps, still open stores and restaurants were the only things that illuminated the car. You had no idea what time it was, but for the first time in a while. You honestly didn’t care.

“Are you sure you’re alright sitting back there?” you questioned for like the third time, since before you even got in the car. “I completely forgot about the stuff I had in here already, I didn’t--”

“Y/n.” Cas spoke suddenly with the usual deep voice. Only this time it sounded more emphasised, due to his amusement at having yet another question to answer. “It’s alright.”

“You’ve done… more than enough for me today.” he continued once your eyes had found him again, the enjoyment in his voice turning into sincerity. “I think I can handle sitting in the back of a car for about 10 minutes.”

At least for a second.

“Okay, okay,” you huffed, letting out a slight laugh before properly focusing on the road ahead... Or trying to, “… For sure?”

“Yes.” 

Due to his response time, and due to the fact that you have been the one speaking the most throughout the whole day, a silence fell upon the car. It was comfortable. Calming.

The problem with that, however, was that when things went completely quiet around another person, your mind would become the most active.

So there you were, letting your fingers tap against the steering wheel. You started to bite at your bottom lip, and even tried to hum a song inside your head, all in an attempt to contain yourself.

But as soon as your brain went back to the fact that there was another living, breathing human in your presence.

“You warm enough back there?”

It beat you in this fight.

“I have multiple layers on.” Cas pointed out after a second, confusion audible in his voice. You simply shrugged, “I know, but… I mean, it was a little cold out. I was just… I was just wondering.”

“Well,” the man in the back paused, seeming to reposition himself as the sounds of plastic and paper bags echoed around your ears. And once he found the right spot, “I’m doing just fine.”

A deep breath seeped through your lungs, “Good. That’s... good, yeah.” you insisted, your mind pausing for only a moment so that you could turn onto another street, “Just-- You know. It gets a lot colder around this time of year.”

Castiel shuffled slightly, “Is that so?” His voice had a haze to it this time. It was a sound that went unbeknown to you, as you had been so distracted by thinking and driving. 

But if anyone else had heard, it would have been clear as day.

“Yep.” you confirmed with a nod of your head, though at this point, the person it was aimed at couldn’t see it. “In fact, it can make people more prone to getting sick-- There was this one time, like ages ago, where I went on a walk, at night, and forgot a jacket.”

Cas hummed in response.

A huff of air whistled through your lips at the recollection, “It was fine at first, but then... Man, it was a terrible time.”

He hummed again. More of a murmur this time.

“I had to run... Well, not run,” you interjected, “But... I had to jog super quick back to Bobby’s, and, oh man, he-- He was not... He called me the biggest idjit ever.” The memory came to a close in front of your eyes. 

All the images that you were flicking through had gone, and now you were left with an unwelcome reminder. “Yeah, no, it was... definitely not fun.” 

Your voice had quieted, the urge to speak, in comparison to earlier, dimming down by a lot. However, after spotting a passing sign, you had realised that the journey was close to the end.

“Hey, uh, Cas, do we... Do we need anything else before we get back?” you began after clearing your throat, making sure that you had a steady hand on the wheel, before attempting to meet the mans eyes through the rear view mirror. “Any essentials, or...”

There was no response.

“Anything?” you spoke again, thinking that he had just not heard.... 

But an answer never came. 

You peeled your eyes away from the dark route ahead, and grabbed onto the mirror when you realised that you couldn’t actually see Castiel in its position.

“Cas?”

You glanced to the road once again, making sure that you weren’t gonna drive off or more importantly hit someone, before they went straight back to look through the glass.

At this point, it was very dark in the car. The light, here, was only from street lamps, and even then, they were slightly spaced apart.

So, after the mirror had been lowered, and one of the lamps had illuminated the car as it passed by. You had finally got a glimpse of what lay amidst the darkness. 

A sight that had caught you by surprise.

Castiel had fallen asleep.

next

[miscellaneoussmp]

I am nothing but an enjoyer of soft family dynamics. Here's Foolish and Roier helping each other out:

Roier feels aimless, really. It's not an unfamiliar feeling, but he's always able to push it to the back of his mind and keep it hidden until those nights where his husband doesn't come home. He wakes up to a tear stained pillow after those nights. He usually thinks of it as some kind of curse, his burden to bear. It's always been present feeling. Maybe there's some awful type of comfort in it. If there is, Roier can't find it. He's supposed to be the happy one, the one who fixes everyone else's issues. He can't bring himself to smile, even as a pale imitation of the real thing. It's quiet. He's never been a fan of the quiet. He always tries to fill it up so he can pretend it fills the void in his chest and the pit in his stomach.

Roier's eyeliner has been smudged for three days now. He hasn't brushed his hair or washed his skin in the same amount of time. His hoodie is just as dirty, same for the rest of his clothes. Maybe if he lays himself bare, something good will happen. Maybe if he just smiles and pretends it doesn't hurt and hopes that nobody notices the blank look in his eyes, It'll all be okay again. Roier sits on an empty patch of grass near one of the paths. He doesn't even know where he is, and he can't bring himself to really care. He's crying again. Out in the open. He's sure his eyeliner is running. He knows he looks awful. A whine dies in his throat as he sobs. Roier hears somebody walk up behind him and then sit next to him, though he isn't sure who it is yet.

It's Foolish. He asks if Roier needs a hug. Roier does, but he can't say it. He can't put his weight onto another person, especially when that person is probably grieving his daughter. He bets Foolish can see his hesitancy and pulls him anyway. Roier starts sobbing harder as he's held by Foolish, held by his dad. He's never had the best father-son relationship with Foolish, but hearing him mutter how he's glad he has one kid who's safe makes his heart melt or hurt, he can't tell which. He looks up at his dad, and there's a hand wiping away his tears. Roier feels so small, and he isn't sure if it's because of how big Foolish is compared to him or how big his feelings are.

Next thing Roier realizes is that he's being led to Foolish's base. Once they're there, he's handed a plush towel. He's being strongly encouraged to take a shower, which is fair enough. It feels good to remove three days' worth of sweat and tears, and God knows what else. He's lucky to have a spare shirt and sweatpants in his backpack. Once he's out of the shower, he finds Foolish making food, specifically peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Roier laughs, Foolish looks up to see him with a clean face and jokes about how hard it is to have an emo son. Roier rolls his eyes and sits down anyway.

When Foolish sits across from him, with the food, Roier asks why he's doing all of this. There's a flash of something sad in Foolish's eyes before he explains that he'd rather know that one of his children is okay than wonder if both are okay. Roier feels tears well up in his eyes again, and he calls Foolish an asshole for doing that. The taller just laughs again before telling him to eat. Roier spends the night at Foolish's. He warns his husband about it, though he doubts the other will go home tonight.

When Roier wakes up, he feels rested for the first time in a while. It doesn't feel like as much of a struggle to get up. He still feels the void in his heart and pit in stomach but they take a backseat for a moment. It's a nice moment.

[kyoosoup]

my younger brother and I were bored and got to talking about our favorite foods and the best food/food experiences we've had so far in our lives, so I thought I'd share our results

this conversation started somewhere with me mentioning my brother's favorite strawberry smoothie and asking him how he would rate it on a scale from 1-10. He gave it a solid 9. Now although I can't personally say that I enjoy that smoothie as a 9/10, I cannot argue with it as I know it has quite a bit of potential. I've just never liked strawberries as much as others may. I personally am more of a mango person. But, nevertheless, I can imagine the joy the specific smoothie might bring someone.

I followed up my inquiry with asking my brother what else he would give a similar or better rating than the smoothie. we ended up agreeing that the first time we tried cream soda was also a 9/10 ranking. I also offered up the ice cream floats we used to have at our grandparents' house, and my brother countered with the chocolate milk that we had there. we agreed that both of those hit the spot. Solid 9/10s , or perhaps higher. I remember on a roadtrip I drank a strawberry daiquiri or something and i was obsessed with it but I couldn't tell you what it tasted like and I honestly had forgotten about its existence until today

We then got to discussing foods. It was without question that the best food we had consumed thus far was sushi. Specifically the sushi two of our friends brought us and our brother to. the chef prepared it in front of us and each piece of sushi melted in our mouths. My brother gave this experience an 11/10. And I agree. but we also realized that this would have been only a 10/10 had we not gone with those specific friends. shared joy or something.

what else were the best specific foods we've had? I couldn't think of a specific day that stood out, but I really enjoy my mom's wonton soup. I have never had better wonton soup than when my mom makes it. 10/10. The first time I had Xiao long bao would also be a top food experience. Eating a hot dumpling with soup inside??? yummy. 10/10 would recommend. When we were younger, my brothers and I used to be addicted to har gow. They are still pretty good, but I don't think I can say they are the same level as they were. But at their peak, also 10/10s. In another genre of food, I remember a specific burger I had at home one day. It was loaded with the toppings and for added flavor my dad offered me truffle mustard. I think that might've been the best burger I've ever had because I still think about it whenever I eat a burger. And I compare my burgers to it still 10/10. Another specific memory was I went on a trip with my dad to Albany and I barely remember anything about that trip except we stopped at an old lady's house (I assume we knew her somehow but idk) and that's where I had the best peanut butter and jelly sandwich I've ever had and ever will have. It might've been grilled I can't remember, but I remember eating it and it was perfect. I don't even like PBJ thatttt much but that one specific sandwich was so good. Some of the first times I had good steak were probably 10/10s. One time my dad made an egg salad sandwich or something idk I can't remember it had a bunch of random stuff on it but it was really good. I still think about it sometimes.

In a similar manner my brother and I talked about desserts. Brownies are consistently good, at least when my mom makes it. My brother said my mom's red velvet brownies were one of his top picks, and I think I can agree with that. Both 10/10s. I think the first time I had lava cakes would be another. Also the first time I had red bean soup with mochi. man I kinda want that now. I used to LOVE red bean soup (I still do and thinking about this is making me hungry I haven't eaten anything today yet). 10/10. The first time I had mango ice cream mochi. These frozen oranges I remember eating at a restaurant in a city?? when I was really young. But I'd say my top snack/dessert experience was when my mom was making up a snickerdoodle cookie recipe and me and my brothers were playing outside and she had us try the cookies and they were warm and yeah that was the best. 11/10 perhaps. Snickerdoodles are still pretty good .

I'm trying to think if there were any more specific food experiences but I'm having trouble thinking and all this food talk is making me hungry.

if you made it this far you should do a jumping jack

[m0ther-of-p3arl]

not nearly enough

(robert aeor high au p10)

masterpost

ITS BEEN TOO LONG- ok ok ok yEEEEeeEeEe im excited to post this one :000 ITS PART 10 GUYS OMG WE HIT THE DOUBLE DIGITS also 40,000 words in total in the entirety of the fic so YEYY

Before Jim came to town, Scott was… well, not fine, exactly- but he was laying low, he was safe, in a sense. He was biding his time until he could leave, until he could get out of the hellhole of a town he still lives in. He had a plan, and Jimmy interrupted that in the worst- oh, who is he kidding- best way possible.

or, its been SIX MONTHS time skip jumpscare HAHHAHAHAHA

TW: anxiety, depression, self-hatred, MAGICAL FLASHBACKS, references to past abuse, etc etc the usual

(5141 words)

And so the months pass, months of sleeping uncomfortably in Jimmy’s bed, months of trying to stay calm when he has flashbacks in the middle of the night, months of staying inside as much as he can for fear that he’ll see Father at the park or the grocery store or anywhere, really. John and Laura bought him a new phone, so at least he can still communicate with the people he relies on.

The others, Joel and Shelby and Owen, were irate when they heard that Scott was now living with Jimmy and Beks, or more so, the reason why: Scott can still remember Shubble shrieking “WHAT?!” when he told her the news, so loud he’d actually heard ringing in his ears- after the initial shock, she kept ranting for about twenty minutes straight about abusive parents and neglectfulness and yada yada yada, stuff Scott’s heard a million times before.

Owen, to contrast, stayed very quiet, the anger simmering right below his voice, just enough so that Scott could hear the hints of it, the bits of raw emotion his best friend couldn’t quite keep hidden. Joel had literally stormed over to Jimmy’s house and started yelling at everyone and everything, including Scott, Beky and her parents, and Jimmy- three different reactions from three different people, all displaying their personalities really well.

But for the most part, it’s been good living with John and Laura; they let him skip school when he needs to, John is an excellent cook (it’s so nice not having to eat peanut butter jelly sandwiches anymore) and Laura makes the second-best tea Scott’s ever drunk (first is Jimmy’s, of course.) His favorite part of his current arrangement, however, is his evening “Jimmy time,” as he’s come to think of it- every evening, he and Jimmy go down to the TV room and watch a movie, play a video game they’re both trash at, or video call Shelby and Joel.

Looking back from where he is now, it’s kind of unclear to Scott where and when Jimmy time started, but he knows it’s been going on since at least a week after he moved in. At first, he’d worried that Jimmy didn’t enjoy spending that much time with him, but the avian’s never complained and so Scott has grown accustomed to this little routine, he’s grown to enjoy the three or four hours they’ll spend together every night.

But on the more negative side of the cucumber, things are not going well with Owen. He’s drifted further and further away from the center of their group, and especially since he lives so close to Scott’s old house, they haven’t had any time to hang out just the two of them. He’s tried to text Owen a bit, but things have grown strained between him, not the easy-going friendship Scott’s so accustomed to, the friendship he relies on. Something’s shifted, and though he can’t put a finger on exactly what, he’s pretty sure it has to do with Jimmy.

Why does absolutely everything in Scott’s life always boil back down to Jimmy?

He’s still running his morning jog on the weekends, though he’s changed his route significantly so it doesn’t go anywhere near his old neighborhood, as just the possibility of seeing his father, or even the mansion, make Scott feel like he’s going to throw up. But other than this little weekly routine, Scott doesn’t spend much time outside at all.

His days are now spent in solitude, watching YouTube on his phone in Jimmy’s room or simply laying on the bed, getting lost in his anxiety and self-hatred. Often, Jimmy, Shelby, or Joel will try to invite him on an outing, but he declines every time, brushing away their worried glances and hushed comments. Most of the time, Scott is alone. And he has to admit, he kind of likes it that way.

If he’s alone, he doesn’t have to focus on the stresses of small-talk and human interaction, he doesn’t have to pretend to smile behind a curtain of self-doubt, he doesn’t have to act like he’s getting better, the way everyone expects him to. Because he’s not getting better. It’s been six months, six months, since he moved in with Jimmy- he’s almost eighteen, and Jimmy’s finally seventeen, another half of a year has gone by but nothing’s changed; he just can’t shake the beast that roils within him, the dark, biting cloud that gnaws at him from the inside out.

Jimmy’s great and all, Scott really appreciates all he’s done for him, but the simple fact of the matter is that Scott’s basically in love with the avian, and Jimmy decidedly does not reciprocate his feelings, meaning that there’s always some sort of catch when they’re hanging out. Scott can’t let himself go all the way, can’t make the same sort of raucous jokes he can with Owen, there’s always this slight weird formality between them. Not anything noticeable from an outside standpoint, but Scott sees it, and he knows Jimmy does too. It tends to make things… more difficult than necessary

He misses his best friend. Scott misses Owen, more than he’s ever missed anyone in his life. He misses the way they used to laugh at the park, he misses when they would climb trees to get away from Owen’s multitude of little sisters, he misses every fleeting moment he and his best friend have ever shared. And as much as he loves Jimmy, the avian can’t give him back the simple, platonic moments that have made up some of the best parts of his life.

Memories are a strange thing, Scott supposes as he sits alone on the bed, because though you always wish you could go back and change things, you can’t. There is no possibility, there is no feasible way that Scott could ever change the way things have worked out. But sometimes, when he’s sat alone with nothing to do, feeling the safety in boredom, he finds himself wondering what he would change if he could.

Usually, he tells himself he would’ve chosen to choose his words more carefully that fateful night when everything changed forever, he would’ve skirted around the issues and just been a good little boy. Sometimes he thinks that he wouldn’t have kissed Jimmy, sometimes, when he’s feeling really terrible, he tells himself he would’ve just made it so he doesn’t exist.

But at times like this, when he’s alone and sane and completely transparent with himself, he knows that what he would’ve changed is the fact that he even met Jimmy in the first place. And yeah, he knows it sounds weird and ungrateful but it’s true- as much as he loves and cares about the avian, Jimmy’s basically the godfather of all Scott’s struggles.

Before Jim came to town, Scott was… well, not fine, exactly- but he was laying low, he was safe, in a sense. He was biding his time until he could leave, until he could get out of the hellhole of a town he still lives in. He had a plan, and Jimmy interrupted that in the worst- oh, who is he kidding- best way possible.

Everything’s kind of gone downhill since  he met Jimmy, but he’s enjoyed almost every second of the fall, and that, right there, is a problem. Scott’s addicted to the change, he’s addicted to the presence and light the avian brings to his life, but he’s also completely drawn in by the hurt that seems to follow Jimmy like a dark haze, bringing nothing but grief to those he comes to know. 

He wryly recalls, all those months ago, mentioning to Joel how canaries are harbingers of death- but that was never the whole proverb, was it? No. If Scott remembers his mother’s stories well enough, it was “canary call, first to fall.” Mother would always speak of how Scott should never trust a canary; how they were nothing but trouble no matter what, even if it wasn’t intentional. And he supposes she’s been proven right, but also…

He doesn’t know. He just- something about him just can’t let Jimmy go. Something about the avian is just so… easy. Or it was. Before the concussion, before…

He can’t think about that. Every time it crosses his mind, their supposed kiss, Scott’s mouth goes dry and his cheeks flush, he’ll just find himself blushing at random points in the day whenever something reminds him. He wishes… he kind of wishes he could remember it. He wishes he hadn’t forgotten, he wishes Jimmy would like him, he just can't stop wishing- 

Scott just can’t stop thinking about how things could have been, the way they could have gone if only the slightest things had happened differently, but it hasn’t, it hasn’t it hasn’t it hasn’t and Scott’s starting to panic-

The door to the room creaks open, snapping Scott out of his thoughts. Speak of the devil. It’s Jimmy, and as much as Scott hates it, his whole face lights up at the avian’s presence. “Hey,” Jimmy greets, dumping his backpack on the bed. “How’s it going? I brought your homework, by the way.”

Scott tries to smile, tries to pretend he hasn’t just been thinking about all the things he wished were different, tries to pretend his brain hasn’t just been riddled with thoughts of the boy now stood in front of him. “Hey,” Scott replies, mimicking Jimmy’s nonchalant tone, just the sight of the canary stood in front of him as panic-inducing as ever, his heart beating faster than a rabbit’s. “How’d school go?”

“It was alright,” Jimmy mutters, flopping down onto the bed and spreading his limbs every which way, leaving Scott to look down at him, pulling his knees to his chest to make sure he’s not sitting on Jim’s feathers. “ELA was a beast, though- I don’t envy you having to do that homework with no context.”

Scott groans, tilting back his head to look up at the ceiling, bracing himself up with his hands behind him. “Would you help me?”

“Obviously,” Jimmy scoffs, maneuvering into a sitting position, his hand brushing momentarily against Scott’s before he wraps his arms around his knees. The warmth lingers on his frigid skin, as it always does whenever he and Jimmy touch. “But do you wanna go get food first? I’m famished, and knowing you, you’ve probably kept yourself locked up in this little room all day.” It’s true; Scott doesn’t think he’s left the bedroom at all today, except for maybe once or twice to use the bathroom or take a shower.

“Ha, fair enough,” Scott concedes, pushing himself up off the bed and following Jimmy through the door. As they trundle down the stairs, Scott can’t help but recall the first time he came to this house- how Jimmy had stood upon these very stairs, resplendent and practically glowing in his light green dress. Scott remembers how his biggest worry that day had simply been things ending up awkward between him and Jim. Little had he known that later that very same day, he would literally be evicted from his own home.

He tries not to think about the part where he literally kissed the boy he was hoping not to be embarrassing around.

They enter the kitchen, John’s favorite place in the whole house; purple and green and yellow and so many other colors adorn the walls in alternating stripes, the cabinets painted with the complement of the walls around them. Jimmy’s citrusy scent mixes into the cinnamon and cilantro of the kitchen as he pulls open the door to the fridge, pausing as he surveys the contents.

“What do you wanna eat?” Jimmy asks, turning back towards Scott.

“Um, I don’t really know.” Scott can’t remember the last time he’s felt genuinely hungry, but he does know that if he doesn’t eat he will starve regardless of what it feels like. So every night he gulps down a quick meal, and that’s all he’ll eat for a day unless he and Jimmy are having popcorn with a movie. “I’ll have whatever you’re having, I guess.”

The canary nods, used to this response by now, and pulls out a can of chicken tikka masala left over from the last time they’d ordered Indian food. “Shall I pop this in the microwave?”

“That’d actually be great, thank you,” Scott agrees. “I think some CTM might actually hit the spod right now. By the way, where’s Bek?” He hasn’t seen her yet, which is strange- Beks is usually right up in everyone’s face, yelling for attention.

“Oh, didn’t she tell you? She’s gone over to Krow’s for a sleepover.” Jimmy doesn’t look back at him as he mixes the masala with rice, separates it into two bowls, and pops them both into the microwave. 

Scott laughs, propping himself up on the island with his hands. “But doesn’t Bek always come home angry at Krow from those sleepovers because it’ll use its siren song to get her to tell it all her secrets?”

Jimmy lets out a tinkling snicker. “Well, yeah, but El’s going to be there as well, so I’m hoping that she’ll act as some sort of peace-maker. She’s, like, the only one Krow’ll ever listen to. Would you like some tea?”

“Yes, please.”

They stand there in silence for a couple minutes, the air tinged with more awkwardness than Scott cares to admit, especially for someone he’s lived six months with. He can tell almost instinctively that they’re both thinking about the kiss, Jimmy probably replaying the actual memory over in his mind while Scott sees the approximation he’s managed to piece together. He can practically see Jim’s disgusted face, shocked eyebrows and an angry furrow to his forehead- a thick feeling of shame wells in the pits of Scott’s stomach, and it’s not the first time.

Scott’s been thinking about it for months, and yet he still can’t believe that, delirious as he was, he actually kissed Jimmy. The typical version of him could never work up the courage to do that- not in a million, billion, trillion years. Scott could count all the stars in the sky before he would try to kiss Jim.

“So! What do you wanna do tonight?” Jimmy asks, reaching up on his tiptoes to pull the food out of the microwave. 

“Um, I was thinking we could watch a Disney movie? One of the newer ones, maybe Big Hero 6, Soul, or Luca?” Scott suggests, running a hand backwards through his snakes.

“Soul and Luca are Pixar, silly.” Jimmy laughs, and just like every time his high, chirping bird-like snicker escapes his mouth, Scott feels like he’s soaring above the clouds, and he can’t help but remember how much easier it was when he was still in denial about his love for the canary. But then the laughter is cut off abruptly and a look of panic crosses over Jimmy’s face. With shaking hands, he sets the bowls down on the counter, and Scott can tell that if he’d been holding them for a moment longer, they would have been dropped.

Scott’s there in an instant, working his way around the island to Jimmy’s side. He cautiously places a hand on the avian’s shoulder. “You good?” Scott asks, surveying Jimmy’s face with concern.

“Y-yeah, I think I’m-” 

Suddenly Scott’s somewhere else, a playroom full of toys much too young for someone his age, the windows and doors barred from the outside, simple, almost blindingly white walls pressing in imposingly on all sides. There are two people peering through the iron bars at a canary avian sat in the middle of the room, one a salmon Seafolk and the other an axolotl, like Lizzie, Joel’s crush.

“Which one is it?” A biting voice comes from the axolotl, not something Scott would expect from such a typically peaceful species- but his voice is directed unmistakably towards the canary in the middle of the room.

“Oh! Hi, Patty, do you have guests?” The avian speaks before the salmon, presumably Patty, can respond, and as they step eagerly towards the door, Scott catches a glimpse of their face. 

His face is about five years younger, fuller and hair less scruffy, a voice somehow even higher than the one he currently possesses, but Scott knows him.

It’s Jimmy. 

“What can you tell me about Chicago? I’ve heard about Chicago,” the younger version of the boy Scott’s come to love asks, wrapping his hands around the bars of the door and staring with excitement up at the disgusted axolotl, who recoils from the canary, a sneer wrapping around his features.

“Shut up, kid,” Patty hisses, before regaining her composure and turning to the salmon. “Ahem, Mr Barnaby, that is… Jimmy, he’s a canary avian whom I found on my many travels throughout the globe.”

“Why’s it asking so many questions? Aren’t they all supposed to be tame?”

“Oh, haha.” Patty laughs; a small, fake giggle that grinds into Scott’s teeth and sets his skin on edge. “Jimmy’s always been a curious little bird.”

And then Scott’s back, back to the kitchen, reeling from the whiplash he’s just experienced. It takes him a moment to realize that he’s staring right into the same exact avian’s eyes, but 5 years older. For a moment, neither of them speak, thousands of words communicated in simple eye contact. Scott never used to be able to look anyone in the eyes, and for most people, he still can’t- but Jimmy’s a rare exception.

“D-did you-” Jim breaks the silence, looking shaken beyond words, his skin ashen as he tries clearly to hold back his tears.

“I saw it, yeah,” Scott says, taking Jim’s hand in both of his own before he can think about it too much. Selfish, selfish, selfish. “What was that? How did we both see- okay, the how isn’t important right now, we can talk about that later. I just need to know if you’re okay- I remember you told me about a Patty once, but I didn’t think- I never expected-” Scott’s at a loss for words, because whatever he’s just witnessed is so- so despicable- 

She hurt Jimmy. She hurt him and no one’s allowed to hurt Jim, he’s too sweet and kind and he always puts others before himself, he laughs at the stupidest jokes and is undeniably the most genuinely kind person Scott thinks he’s ever met. He begins to feel a rage building in the back of his throat, because who would- what kind of monster- who could ever find it in themselves to hate Jim?

Jimmy’s struggles and the way he’s dealt with them put what Scott’s been through to shame, and he can feel the guilt beginning to gnaw up at him from the insides biting and churning. Here he is, sitting alone and feeling sorry for himself, when Jimmy was held fucking prisoner, a hostage in a cell, by a person he professed to trust, maybe even saw as a mother figure?

“No, it-it’s fine, I left, I got out of there, she doesn’t matter anymore,” Jimmy mutters, wrapping his free arm around himself but not removing his hand from Scott’s grasp. “I’m fine. I just don’t- I just don’t think about it, very much. That bit you saw, when she said-” he takes a deep breath, as if the next thing he’s saying takes a lot of power to conjure up- “when she said, ‘Jimmy’s always been a curious little b-bird,’ she used to say that a lot, and it’s-” his words all come out in a  rush now, and Scott knows the feeling- Jimmy’s just trying to rush all his emotions out before they consume him too much.

“It’s kind of ingrained in my memory,” he continues, looking down at the floor and gripping Scott’s hand so tight he thinks it might fall off. “I don’t know why, but she- her voice- it’s in my head, it won’t g-go away, it’s been a year and a half and now just at the most random intervals I’ll just hear- her- saying that thing and it’s so stupid because I didn’t even have it that bad, it’s not even the worst thing she would say, not by a long shot, b-but it felt- it feels-” Jimmy swallows, angrily swiping the tears from his eyes. 

“I ran away. I left. I shouldn't even be thinking of her, of that place, anymore but I can’t shake the feeling- and sometimes when I’m sleeping, I have d-dreams, it feels like I’m there, again, and she’s showing me to people through the window as if I’m some sort of exotic specimen, and I’m not, I’m just- just me- simple, stupid, trusting Jimmy- and there’s nothing special about me it’s just pure luck that it’s me she found. It’s m-my fault.”

Scott feels his mouth tighten and he wraps his free arm around Jim, the avian letting out a small, startled gasp before sinking into the hug, shaking from the memory while Scott shakes from rage. They stand like that for a long time, Scott not quite trusting himself to speak.

“I. Will. Murder. Her.” The words growl out of his mouth before he can stop them, glaring protectively over Jimmy’s shoulder, trying hard not to clench up and hurt the canary.

Jimmy looks up at him, surprised, moving his head from where it had been pressed to Scott’s chest. “W-what- but it was-”

“It was not your fault,” Scott says, anticipating Jim’s question and intercepting it before Jimmy can blink twice. “Where and when did she find you? Were you fucking kidnapped?” Scott can tell that he probably looks very scary right now, and he can feel his skin freezing up, see the frost beginning to creep over his shades.

“I- I was- well, from what she said, it was back when I was still an egg, back from wherever I came from. The way she told it, she found me, or, my egg, I guess, in a nest in a tree when she was on a hike in Borneo. She always s-said it was the smallest egg in the nest. Do you know what that implies? I have siblings, Scott. I have brothers and sisters and-” he has to stop talking for a minute, and Scott holds him closer, as if just by wrapping the avian in his arms, he could solve all Jimmy’s problems. “She said my parents were away, so she nabbed me out and took me for her own. She said she saved me.”

Scott is infuriated. He is beyond anger, he is beyond hatred, he is the pure embodiment of rage. He wants to murder this woman, he wants to mince her up into a pie and serve her to the sharks. “She did nothing of the sort. Any even half-decent person would know not to take an egg from an avian’s nest- your parents were probably foraging, do you even know your true name?!”

Jimmy looks up at him, surprised. “How do you know about true names? But yeah, I know. It’s kind of- well. I mean I’m not going to tell you what it is, at least not right now, sorry. But an avian’s true name- we just kind of know that instinctively, ever since we’re little.”

“Okay, good,” Scott says, though it’s just a small modicum of relief when compared to the magma that’s begun to flow through his veins instead of blood. “I know about the name thing because we did a unit on avians in Species Studies early last year, you know, before you came.” Jimmy mouths  silent “oh,” and then Scott realizes how tight he’s been holding the avian and how he’s probably very uncomfortable with this and-

He quickly releases Jimmy, pushing away from the canary quickly and slightly forcefully, hoping Jim doesn’t take offense. With a muttered “sorry,” from both of them, the awkwardness is back, and Scott almost curses. Every part of his body where Jimmy’s been now feels cold, even colder than usual, as if even his body is protesting the lack of the one he loves.

“So, movie,” Jimmy says, breaking the silence and turning back to the tea, hiding his face from Scott and obviously trying very hard to act like the whole memory thing hasn’t happened. Without looking, Jimmy slides Scott his bowl of chicken tikka masala down the counter, and Scott very nearly misses it. Luckily, he catches the bowl at the last second, and saves them both from the disaster of being lectured about the importance that things stay clean in John’s kitchen. “Out of the things you said, I think I’d be down for Soul the most, though I kind of want to watch HSMTMTS? If that’s okay with you?”

Scott barks a dry laugh, not quite ready to return to normal himself. HSMTMTS, or High School Musical: The Musical: The Series, is Jimmy’s favorite show, a high school soap opera kind of scene full of stupidity. But Scott follows Beks’ parents’ logic: if Jimmy loves it, by extension, Scott does as well. Or, he pretends to for Jimmy’s sake. “Sure, why not? Where were we at?”

“Um, I think it was- gimme a second to think.” Scott nods, passively observing how to anyone else, Jimmy would seem absolutely fine right now, you could never guess in a million years that he’d just had a breakdown- but Scott knows Jimmy well enough that he can see the little details, a slight shaking of his hands, the way his eyes dart fearfully back and forth, the subtle extent to which he’s drawn in his wings to his back.

How does he do it? How does Jimmy pretend everything’s fine when it’s not, when it’s actually fucking terrible and has been for a long time, how on Earth does he do it? Jimmy seems to possess a certain strength of character Scott’s always been lacking in, a willingness to keep going that’s so strong it’s almost a fault. It’s one of the things Scott loves and admires the most about the canary.

But also- Scott’s been so caught up in what he’s seen that he hasn’t thought about how- he remembers it had happened once at the movie theater, all those months ago- he’d forgotten. They’d shared a memory. As far as he’s aware, it’s only happened the two times- and both with Jimmy’s memory, and he’s pretty sure no one else had seen them either time, so it’s almost certainly a thing that’s just between him and Jim.

He supposes it has to be his siren heritage, because if he’s being honest, there’s no way it’s Jimmy’s doing. Scott loves the avian and all, but there’s no way he would have magic powerful enough to do that. 

He’s never thought he’s really gotten anything particularly siren-like from his mother, other than the cyan and ice (though ice isn’t really a siren trait, now that he thinks about it) so he’s never really felt like it’s very important for him to read up on sirens. He hasn’t learnt about them from school, either; they’ve never done a unit in Species Studies, and if he’s being honest he hasn’t really spent enough time with Mother to learn about siren things from her. 

So all Scott knows are the obvious things: sirens can sing, they have gorgeous voices that hypnotize the listeners, blah blah blah. He’s never heard anything about seeing other people’s memories, but he supposes it really doesn’t seem too far fetched at this point.

“Oh! I remember,” Jimmy calls from his perch on the counter, shaking Scott out of his theorizing with a start. “We were at the part where Seb is singing at Carlos’ quinceanera.”

“Were we?” Scott honestly can’t remember, it’s Jimmy’s favorite show, but it sure as hell isn’t Scott’s- he can barely follow the plot, and because they only watch HSMTMTS about once a month (Scott doesn’t know if he could stand watching it more often), it’s even more difficult to remember.

“Yep,” Jimmy says, gesturing for Scott to grab his tea as he heads to the basement. Scott does so, holding his bowl of masala in one hand and balancing the warm mug in the other, carefully plodding down the steps into the TV room.

Jimmy’s already sat down on the cushy marshmallow couch, and Scott joins him, placing his dishes on the coffee table and making sure he’s at least a foot away from the canary. He doesn’t want to make Jimmy uncomfortable.

The show starts off about as normal, pretty meh, just as Scott remembers it. Doldrum lovesick lives of typical teenagers, and because it’s a Disney show, of course they sing out their sorrows. But Jimmy loves it so he always puts up with it, because he has to pay back the avian in some way from letting him stay in his literal house, right?

And then something unexpected happens: Scott finds himself being sucked into the show, actually interested in something that until now, he’s been completely bored about. He starts genuinely watching as Seb sings a song for his boyfriend, Carlos, and of course Scott had known they were dating before, it’s one of the main plot points, but this is different-

It feels real.

It feels like him. He imagines himself up there, in the back of that tractor with that piano, singing to Jimmy. And then the song’s over and Carlos walks up and-

They’re kissing.

Two characters, in a live-action Disney show, are kissing. Scott finds his eyes drifting not-so-subtly to Jimmy, and then their hands are touching and it’s so close, so feasible, so possible that Scott can feel it and something’s about to happen and their heads are moving closer closer closer to each other, so close that Jimmy reaches out and his hand brushes momentarily against Scott’s cheek and yes yes yes Scott wants this-

A door slams from upstairs and Bek’s voice rings through the house. “Jimmy! Where are you?”

And the spell is broken, Scott shakes off the lavender haze and the rose-colored glasses, muttering a shallow apology under his breath but Jimmy doesn’t seem to hear it, he simply stands and walks upstairs, wings drawn tightly to his back, without so much as a backward glance. Fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck. Scott tries to call out for him, tries to make him understand, but his voice isn’t working and it’s too late, all he can do is watch with horrified eyes as Jimmy walks away, and now it’s all over and Scott’s broken everything for a second time. And so the tears boiling behind his eyes leak out, sharp and biting against his cold skin.

Ice-cold.