#???? thats your fucking kid the least you could do is be gentle about her struggles and try to help

[spoonieboy]

cw: mental hospital, mistreatment, brief suicide mention

every once in awhile i think about when i was in the grippy sock center. they gave me prozac one of the mornings and by the time we went out to the courtyard, it was already impacting me. I looked up at the 3 story roofline, spotted an access door i hadn't noticed before, and immediately caught myself wondering how to get up there so i could jump. this was a new feeling, tho the nuance is hard to describe. i also had a sudden increase in agitation and couldn't control myself. didn't help that they sent a girl home who explicitly told us she wasn't ready & she'd end it if they sent her back. and they still sent her home. I couldn't contain my anger and went to the bedroom, flipped the mattress against the wall, and beat it until i was a sobbing mess on the bare bed frame.

my 'tantrum' earned me a visit with the head doc to discuss my behavior. I told them I couldn't take it again tomorrow, that i hated how i felt and they told me that that was impossible - that it was all in my head. (to a fucking mental health patient!!!) 💀 So i tried to explain that i metabolize meds faster than most but she cut me off, told me i was lying, and that i couldn't POSSIBLY feel the effects of the meds for at least 2 weeks. i tried to have calm words but had a meltdown instead. i don't remeber what happened afterwards.

next morning, i flat out refused the meds. luckily it was my favorite nurse and when she pushed a lil to try and encourage me to take it, i broke down crying, told her what happened, and she stopped. She took the meds back and seemingly had words with the prescribing doc bc i had a new med to try a short while later in the day.

lo & behold, i have eds! meds process Hella fast for me. its almost like thats a thing! 🤔 surprise, surprise!

i just wanna go back & give that lady a proper bitch slap and a stern talking to, frankly. i cannot fathom how someone so rude & callous was supposed to be in charge of all these broken kids. i, at 14, voluntarily checked myself into a mental hospital because i was ready to end my life. thats not the sort of situation where you talk down to, insult, and berate someone!! you treat them with gentle compassion and kindness! like they fucking need!!!!!

ugh.

the only things i'm grateful for in that time were the two therapy dogs, occupational therapy, art therapy, the math teacher who was so kind, gentle, and understanding - and the fact that they ended up taking 12 vials of blood to discover that my entire ass thyroid had completely dumped itself. i ended up needing levo for 2 years afterwards.

abt that math teacher, i was so defensive bc i was really struggling with math at the time and had never been treated at my own pace before, but this guy was nothing but sweet, patient, and encouraging. he didn't make fun of me for what i didn't know, didn't pressure me to go faster, just celebrated what i did manage to accomplish and gently helped me through the items i was struggling with. when i couldn't bring myself to do the math, he let me tidy up & organize his classroom, which was relaxing for me. that guy was a Prime example of the type of person who should be working there. math, in that short time, became somewhere i wanted to linger rather than run from because i felt safe there. thank you, mr. math teach. i wish i remembered your name. i appreciate you more than you know.

anyways, if you've read this far, why? honestly? lol. but idk, thank you for letting me share. writing this down helped me let go of some of those angry feelings i've been holding onto about it.

if you need to go to a mental hospital in VA, try to avoid the richmond one 💀 thats all i'll say.

[bratz-kitten]

eternally angry that in sailor moon when usagi came home with a bad grade her mother would lock her out of the house for hours and they played it off as comedic relief without once acknowledging how fucked up it was when her mother could have simply tried to understand why usagi had so much difficulty in school, or idk not deprive her of the most basic human necessity of having a roof over her head?

[motscore]

hiya totally not self-projecting here but can you do something with bakugou and a s/o who has a really messed up family and home life? and make it very soft and gentle please. its the kind of home where the mom and dad are married but its a very unhealthy relationship. shouting fights are a regular occurrence, and the parents by themselves are assholes to their kid. just to put my situation in perspective, my father has tried slapping/grabbing my ass ‘playfully’ infinitely more times than he’s ever tried genuinely complementing me. he’s done other stuff, but i don’t feel comfortable sharing that. my mother cares more about image, both hers and mine, over people themselves and screams at me over the most stupid stuff. they’re also both conservative, and i’m lgbt, so that obviously isn’t something i can easily share. i’m sorry if this topic isn’t one you feel comfortable writing about, you don’t have to do this request. i just want some escape right now, and hell, someone or something who can at least pretend that they’ll help me, and validate my struggle. tell me it’s real, that i’m real. even though my dad calls me stupid and an idiot for fighting back against my mom, it’s one of the things that reminds me of my reason for treading the water for so long. it reminds me that i didn’t give up, even after all these years, in a way. i pretend and tip-toe around them so much in order to protect who i am. the fact that i don’t cry about it either, makes it seem like i’m just pretending. like i’m not really in a bad situation, but making it bad in my head when really it’s really not a big deal. i’ve gotten very tired because of all this. can katsuki be there to help me? i’m sorry. this was more vent/rant than request. you don’t have to do this one if you don’t want to.

hi love! im sorry i couldnt get this done sooner ive had a busy weekend :( but im genuinely so sorry and upset that you have to deal with this and if you want to dm me to rant im 100% down to listen! i hope this helps you at least a little bit love <3

you show up to katsuki’s door, and jump into his arms and start crying. he catches you of course, trying not to freak out because he doesnt know why you’re crying. he stood in complete shock before speaking up.

“b-baby? whats wrong are you hurt?”

you sniffled before replying

“i- just-“

you couldnt finish your sentence before breaking down into tears again. at this point, bakugou was feeling a swirl of emotions. concerned, sad, upset. he didnt know what was wrong, but he knew you needed him. he walked you two over to his room and laid down, with your head on his chest and your legs interwined.

he rubbed circles on your back, and whispered reassuring things into your ear, giving you time to calm down enough to where you could talk with him and tell him whats wrong.

you sniffled before speaking. you went on and on about how hard things have been for you, how uncomfortable you feel in your own home, how you can no longer tell if its really “that bad” or if you’re just overreacting because you’ve gotten so used to this. how you’ve grown..numb to it all. you told him everything and he listened very keenly. you could tell he was getting upset too, you could feel his mucles tensing up underneath you.

“i am gonna try to not let my anger show right now because thats not what you need, but dont you fucking dare say you’re over reacting. i know that it’ll be hard to convince you that you’re not, but please trust and listen to me angel. everything you’re going through may seem normal to you now but you don’t deserve to be in a situation like this and it is not normal. you can’t even be who you really are because you’re afraid of what the outcome is. thats not normal baby.”

he took a second to readjust you, so he was sitting up against the head board and you’re straddling his lap, facing him. he wiped the drying tears of your face and laced his fingers with yours before continuing.

“all your feelings towards this are valid, 100% valid. you feeling numb is because you’re used to this routine where.. people constantly invalidate you and your feelings. which means you’re gonna let those feelings build up until one day you wont be able to handle it anymore and thats not healthy, angel. you dont deserve to be in this situation angel and ill do everything i can to get you out of there, okay? you know i would love for you to move in with me so i could just... protect you from it all. but please believe me when i say that you’re not overreacting and that what you feel is real, its all real my love. all of it”

he pulled you in for a tight hug, putting his face in the crook of your neck to inhale your light scent. he began to kiss lightly, from your neck sll the way up to your cheeks to your lips, which made you giggle at the sensation.

he felt himself relax at hearing you laugh, and move back enough so he could see your whole face. even with puffy eyes and dried tears on your face, he thought you were the most ethereal being in the universe. nothing would ever change his mind about his precious angel.

he lifted a hand to caress your face, his thumb rubbing soft circles into your cheek.

“ill protect you baby. i promise no one can hurt you here.”

[littleblackqrow]

((I think the most frustrating part of watching people analyze the actions of characters in vol8 is that the biggest complaint is that logic is thrown out the window and I would argue that’s the point. Especially because of the perspective of the show. I really hate to keep picking on Ironwood, Qrow, and RWBY, but those characters are the ones driving the plot, so I guess we gotta.

Lets start with RWBY. They’re kids first off. WBY are all about 19-20 years old and Ruby is 17. Lets start off by saying those are ages not exactly known for smart, long term decision making. Most people that age are trying to figure out what they want to do for the rest of their lives, struggling with college, dates, drinking, sex for the first time. They’re stumbling around in adult bodies while still having more or less the mind of a teenager because society has suddenly stopped treating them like a kid and expects them to be an adult. Except instead of having to struggle with decisions about their near future, RWBY is being asked to save the world. If you think you could handle that pressure well at 17-19, you’re lying. 

Does it make their decisions right though? No. The way they treated Ozpin for hiding the worst of his abuse and the fact that his ex-wife was an insane bitch who is functionally immortal is wrong. But again, I ask you, could you handle having all that dumped into your lap in an already stressful situation? The person who should be (and rightly is) condemned for his reaction is Qrow for throwing a punch. No matter how upset you are no hitting. Once you throw a punch in that situation, you’re the bad guy. And until he makes an effort of an apology he’s the bad guy in that situation. 

The biggest problem that team RWBY has is that all of their terrible decisions throughout the show have either been rewarded, or the got bailed out from having to see the real consequences. 

Ozpin allowed Blake to hide her White Fang past and therefore missed the least subtle component of the Fall of Beacon. Things could have been significantly less bad if he’d known about their involvement and was able to send Qrow in to spy on their operations. Maybe he could have figured out what Roman or Adam was up to, realized they were working for Cinder and by extension Salem.

Ozpin allowed team RWBY to do a mission that was a couple grades too advanced for them because he knew they’d break the rules otherwise. That was a tacit acknowledgement that he thought whatever they were up to was alright, and that they had his blessings on whatever it was that they wanted to do.

The best example of terrible decision after terrible decision that RWBYJNR makes is Argus. They have no idea how they’re getting the Relic to Atlas, and they seem road blocked. Jaune suggests stealing an airship, and Qrow, the adult in the room tells them that this is a bad idea, and if it goes bad it has the potential to screw up their entire life. He’s right. The problem is that he’d run off on his bender, and therefore the kids, and we in the audience, are supposed to see this as an unreasonable suggestion. 

However, it plays out as him being right. The incredibly complicated plan did go wrong. Now, they had no reason to suspect at the time that Adam was stalking Blake at the time (and I could go into why thats perfectly ic for him at another date), but there were a lot of moving parts in this plan and literally any of them could have broken. Everything that happened after they put this plan into motion was reactionary. Cordovan, obsessed with showing the Might of Atlas (TM), jumped into the mech suit. At that point, Ruby didnt really have a choice of not breaking it. But the ensuing fight created enough general unease that it summoned a Grimm hoard.

By rights, Argus should have fallen because of their bad decisions and in spire of their best efforts. Instead, Cordovan had a change of heart at the last moment and bailed them out.

This just reinforced the flawed idea that RWBY is always in the right and directly lead to s7′s climax. They are the unstoppable force.

Now you have Ironwood, quite literally the unmovable object, which I now realize is sort of his name. Ha.

Ironwood’s behavior does not come out of nowhere. Since his appearance, he’s had problem stamped all over him. He showed up with an entire goddamn army to a supposedly peaceful event that is to promote unity and the excellence of each kingdom. His rationale is that the people are going to be impressed with his big guns and feel safe. Ozpin gently points out that those big guns also signal to people that there is something out there that those big guns are designed to shoot. 

If its not a Grimm, could it mean that Atlas intends to shoot people?

Remember we’re not even 100 years out from the last World War, one that was basically started by Atlas. People are nervous. There are still grandparents and great grandparents alive today that were kids when the Great War was happening. Not only that but we’re also made aware that Atlas has rolled in the apolitical protectors of the people, the Huntsmen, into its military. This elite fighting force that is basically above the law and can go to any country in the world whenever they want, is now part of the military. The ONLY standing military that Remnant seems to have.

All of this has obviously caused friction in the Inner Circle. Qrow is not quite and never has been quiet about his disdain for James’ heavy handed techniques. Glynda calls James’ actions a dick measuring competition, and Ozpin was trying to be gentle about it, but he was clearly telling Ironwood to get his army off his fucking front lawn. And what did Ironwood do? He’d gone around Ozpin and talked to the Vale council.  They were threatening to remove Oz fro his position because they agreed with Ironwood: he was being too passive. Ironwood even tells Glynda that he cant believe that a man he trusted for so long would just sit by and stand to the side instead of meeting the problem head on. He didnt seem to understand why Qrow would want to go gather intelligence on an operation before sending in the big guns. 

Ironwood has never been a man to put a well thought out plan with all his ducks in a row into motion. This is a man who plows through opposition at every opportunity.

And when we see him again, we can see him steamrolling through opposition again. Somehow he got himself two seats on the council. That gives him an enormous amount of power. And his position as general means that at any point he can declare an emergency and become the de facto dictator of Atlas if he deems it fit. The problem is that he’s having these arguments against Jacques Schnee a man that the audience rightly hates, so he seems reasonable. Who gives a fuck about Jacques loosing business, he’s a dickhead. We’re not noticing the fact that James is consolidating power, or that he’s using that power to make unilateral decisions with no one telling him no.

There’s no one left in the room who is able or willing to tell him that these are bad ideas, that there will be consequences that he cant foresee. His  bullish behavior lead to both Robyn Hill and Jacques Schnee running for an empty council seat, and that created the environment that we walked into in s7.

Now, not all James’ ideas are bad. The Amity Project is actually a really good one, and James is right in wanting to keep it from the general public until its near completion. But you know who should have known? The other fucking council members. Probably the candidates. Playing your cards too close to the chest when you clearly need help and allies is a bad thing. But again, James didnt even trust Ozpin to be able to run his own kingdom, so durr hurr of course he’s the only one who can take care of Amity. And run a kingdom. And run an academy. And protect an ageing, ailing Maiden. And of course he doesnt have time to treat his horrific PTSD from the Fall of Beacon.

So when things go tits up because again, of course they will with a plan that complex James Ironwood doubles the fuck down on his terrible solo decision making. Clearly, non of this is his fault. No one is listening to him. He cannot trust others to make decisions so he’s going to make all of them. There’s no one around him to tell him no, especially because the first person that tried was publicly executed. 

James is scared. He’s had a mental break because of that fear. His paranoia, his PTSD, and the fact that there’s nothing there to help him back to stability means that he’s just going to be bouncing from one terrible choice to the next. He’s Hamlet in the throes of paranoia, heading down a road that is going to get everyone, including himself killed. He is King Lear as the world crumbles around him, acting cruel and making unreasonable, horrible demands of those around him. 

Working with Watts seems like an absolutely terrible idea, but to someone who thinks that he is in control of the situation because he has to be in order to keep functioning, there’s no way that this can bite him in the ass. For James, if no one is willing to follow his orders, he’s going to make them. This attitude is probably exactly why Watts did what he did and joined Salem in the first place. 

So when you combine the unstoppable force of Team RWBY, who’s been told they’re the child saviors of the world, and who’ve been either rewarded or bailed out of their bad decisions against the immovable object of Ironwood and his absolute conviction in himself, you have the mess Atlas is in now.

Honestly I find it kind of brilliant. 

[crash-cinematic-universe]

Holographic Sand is a Kickass Band Name

pairing: peter maximoff/OC(graciella decuerpo) (high school AU/not canon)

summary: peter learns that a fuckton can change in the course of a week

warnings: none? bad language and peter is simp but thats it

notes **please read**: Heyyyyy how are you doing? good? that’s great. so ik this fic is a peter/oc fic, but honesty i only use her name a few times and a few defining features but like. thats it. so you can totally just imagine urself in her position. also this fic is 5,550 words exactly. that’s the most ive ever written and I am SUPER fucking proud. I think i might become one of those blogs where i write super huge monster fics that im proud of instead of just writing to fill requests.if u dont want that then just lmk and i will not do that. i dont know. maybe. also this fic is peter centric because uh it is. anyways enjoy <3

taglist: @creator-appreciator, @simonsbluee

--------

Monday

           Peter sat across the room, his arms crossed neatly on top of his knees as he rested his chin on his forearm. He wasn’t paying attention to the lesson being taught in front of him, in fact, he wasn’t paying attention to anything at all. No, Peter was lost in his head again. Peter’s mind was a chaotic minefield of music and cheesy one-liners and random facts that he seems to just know. But this time, he wasn’t envisioning himself beating up a police officer or playing with Pink Floyd. This time, he was picturing a perfect world where nothing ever happened yet nothing was ever boring. Peter had built a utopia in his mind-- a kingdom created to his exact preferences. A blissful tower of joy and happiness and energy and satisfaction. A paradise where he stood on top of the world with Graciella DeCuerpo, the pretty girl from algebra  class, standing right next to him.

          Now, Peter was well aware that the pretty girl from algebra  class had no idea who Peter was. The pair had never exchanged more than a few words, but somewhere within those few words, Peter managed to decide that she was his soulmate. He’d created an image of her in his head that would make God weep tears of envy, the perfect personality for the perfect person.  Peter willfully ignored the fact that he was setting himself up for heartbreak as he imagined how nice it would feel to have her fingers intertwined with his. 

           All of Peter’s friends thought he was ridiculous, ‘you can’t love someone you don’t know,’ they’d say. Peter would only scoff and shake away their words. He absolutely can love someone he doesn’t know, it’s getting the other person to reciprocate those feelings that’s nearly impossible. However, that doesn’t stop him from fantasizing at night. That doesn’t stop him from imagining the various ways he’d confess his love to the pretty girl who doesn’t love him. Or maybe she does. Peter doesn’t know, he could never know; unless, of course, he worked up the courage to talk to her. 

          Scott constantly teased Peter about his one-sided infatuation, but Peter paid no mind to him. He was 100% content with his perpetual pining for someone who probably didn’t know his name. He was totally okay with the unending ache in his chest that would appear any time she walked by or met his gaze. Peter was alright with his ceaseless yearning and the eternal feeling of disappointment that overtook him every time he snapped out of one of his fantasies. He was a-okay with all of that.

          So, there he was, spacing out during biology class as Professor Hargreeves struggles to teach the silver teen about photosynthesis. The Professor looked at Peter with desperate eyes, soon deciding that having his usually energetic student be quiet and still was the silver lining of the situation-- no pun intended. Professor Hargreeves droned on as Peter glanced at the clock, counting down the minutes until 7th period. Counting the seconds until he got to see the pretty girl in algebra  class once again.

Tuesday

          6th period was always the worst part of Peter’s day-- the dreaded english class. There were many contributing factors to Peter’s hatred for this class; the professor was a bore, the material itself was uninteresting, and Peter could never seem to sit still or retain any of the words he read in english class. Worst of all, english class seemed to go on forever, leaving Peter to impatiently wait for the bell to ring and release him to 7th period. At the end of the period every day, he was practically vibrating in his seat. 

          “Can anyone tell me what Juliet’s suicide is supposed to symbolize?” the Professor asked expectantly. Peter couldn’t care less about the symbolism of some chick’s suicide-- he’d much rather be studying the features of his algebra  class infatuation. 

          She sat next to him yesterday. There were at least 5 other open seats and she sat next to him. Yes, Peter read too much into it and yes, Peter spent the entire class period trying to make himself seem naturally cool, but he didn’t care. Peter would act like the most desperate, pathetic, lovestruck loser in the world if it meant that she would like him. They didn’t talk, they didn’t exchange a single word, nevertheless, Peter was in a state of euphoria for the entire class period. 

          Sometimes Peter feels like a stalker. He watches her whenever he can-- he doesn’t follow her around or anything, but if she’s around, he’ll stare at her. He has her features memorized, the curve of her nose, the dark brown irises surrounding her pupils, the way that she always seems to have chipped black nail polish on. He sees the small things. He sees the way she bites her nails when he gets bored and he sees the way her leg never seems to stop bouncing. She hums the basslines to songs as opposed to the melody. 

          English class came to an abrupt end as the bell cut off the Professor’s teachings as well as Peter’s distant daydreaming. Peter was out of his seat within seconds, his notes and books quickly being swept up in his arms as he walked out of the room. The hallways are crowded and chaotic and busy, each individual student attempting to get to their locker then to their class on time. Peter watches as kids swing their lockers open, fatigue and weariness apparent on their faces as they disappear into their classrooms. Peter reaches his locker hastily, the few small posters of classic rocks bands adorning the inside of his locker door. A playful giddiness overcame his body as he made his way to algebra  class, a small smile left on his face.

          Graciella shows up across the hallway, her bright red hair catching his eye in a sea of brown and blonde and blue. His stomach flutters as they get closer and closer to each other, finally meeting outside of the classroom. Her eyes rise to meet Peter’s, and instead of pulling away, Peter keeps looking. She smiles at him before disappearing inside the classroom, and Peter felt his knees get weak. With a deep breath and a triumphant smile, he walked into the classroom.

Wednesday

          Lunchtime; possibly one of the most enjoyable parts of Peter’s school day. Peter is free to kick back and stuff his face full of whatever junk the school board deems nutritious enough for highschoolers. Usually, he ate lunch under the bleachers with his friends, but in some sick twist of fate most of them were absent. So, Peter was left to eat alone in his usual spot.

          The quiet was comfortable, refreshing. The gentle summer breeze would blow every few minutes and Peter would listen to the rustle of the leaves. There’s a certain tranquility to being alone; Peter can lay back and relax and just… think. No stress, no panicking, no--

          “Hey, uh, Peter, right?” Peter’s eyes snap up so fast he’s afraid they would detach from his head and fall out. His breath faltered and his hands began to shake a bit-- why was he so freaked out? She was just a girl; sure, she was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen, and yeah, he was madly in love with her, but that’s besides the point. 

          “Uh-- uh, yeah, P-Peter. That’s, uh, that’s me,” He chuckled awkwardly, desperately trying to stay cool. Peter was an awkward person, but he’d rather die than fuck up his chances with Grace.

          “You dropped this on your way out of class yesterday, I, uhm, didn’t get to return it to you until now,” She holds out a small key chain with three small keys hanging off of it-- Peter’s house keys, along with the key to his mother’s car. He quickly takes the key chain from the red-haired girl in front of him.

          “Holy shit, uh, thanks! I couldn’t get into my house yesterday so I guess you saved me from another broken window,” Peter held up his hand and showcased the scattered pattern of small cuts on his palm. Grace laughed lightly before gently running her fingers over the cuts on Peter’s palm.

          “Oh fuck, dude, these look pretty bad. Maybe keep a spare key hidden under your welcome mat or something,” Peter doesn’t fully process Grace’s words; he’s too preoccupied with trying not to collapse at the feeling of her fingertips on his palm.

          “Hey, you okay? You look… pale,” Grace pressed the back of her hand on Peter’s forehead in an attempt to check for illness, but that just made Peter’s skin erupt in goosebumps. 

          “I, um, I’m fine. I’m just st-stressed about the algebra  t-test on Friday, I th-think,” To be fair, Peter was stressed about the algebra  test. Peter may or may not have spent the entire class staring at Grace instead of, you know, learning the material.

          “Oh! Well, if you want, I can help you study. I’m also kinda worried about it, and I study better with other people,” Peter silently thanked god for what was happening to him.

          “That would be fuckin’ fantastic,” Grace smiled a smile that made Peter shiver.

          “Cool! Uh, I’ll give you my phone number and we’ll meet up tomorrow. One day isn’t much time to study, but it’s better than nothing.” She pulls a pen out of her backpack and rips a small piece of paper out of one of her notebooks. Peter watches as she scribbles down her phone number and hands the paper to him.

          “Thanks. For everything, the keys, the studying-- everything.” Grace smiled.

          “It’s no problem, Peter, really. I’ll call you later,” And just like that, she walked away. Peter was left alone under the bleachers, a wide smile plastered on his face as he read the piece of paper in his hands over and over and over again.

Thursday

          30 minutes. 30 minutes until Grace Reaper DeCuerpo, the prettiest, nicest, funniest girl Peter had ever met would show up on his doorstep. She would be inside his house for god knows how long. She would sit next to Peter-- either on the coffee table in the basement or on the floor of his bedroom. Needless to say, Peter was freaking the fuck out.

          The plan was simple: Grace shows up, they study, they get comfortable, and she goes home. Yet, in those four simple steps, so much could go wrong. Wanda could interrupt, his mother could lose her temper, Lorena could start crying-- worst of all, Peter could embarrass himself and drive her away. 

           Peter was in the middle of reorganizing his record collection for a third time when he heard a knock at the door. His blood went cold and an electric excitement ran through his veins. Peter checked his hair in the mirror one last time before running to the door. He stood silently, staring at the chrome handle hesitantly. This was his one chance. His only chance to make his perfect kingdom real-- Peter really, really, really didn't want to fuck it up. With a deep breath, he slowly opened the door.

          "Hey, Peter!" Her voice was smooth and melodic and it made Peter's heart light up. He’s about to respond with something smooth and witty when a squeaky voice chirps behind him.

         “Hi!! Are you the pretty girl Peter talks about?” Peter can physically feel his face turn bright red as he turns to see his six-year-old sister, Lorena, standing behind him. She’s wearing a purple princess dress that has a syrup stain on the sleeve. Grace laughs before stepping through the doorway. 

          “Lorena!” Peter groans in annoyance, a pleading look on his face. The young girl just giggles before scurrying away, her dress flowing behind her.

          “‘The pretty girl Peter talks about’, huh?” Grace grins at Peter cheekily. Peter runs his hand through his hair before motioning to the staircase.

          “God, Lorna is quite the kid. Well, uh, we can work in my room,” He sighs. “And Grace? Uh, m-maybe don’t let Lorena change your opinion of me,” She just smirks before walking past Peter.

          “Too late,” She called before disappearing down the stairs. Peter could hear the faintest trace of a smile in her voice. His heart skipped a beat as he quickly followed after her. 

          She was wearing a Pink Floyd t-shirt and holding a backpack with various pins on it-- her left ear was pierced in three places and her right in five. The earrings she was wearing were black, or maybe grey; her bright red hair blocked Peter’s view of them. She was wearing rings, some odd words engraved in the metal. Peter couldn’t read them from where he was standing. She was wearing a skirt with fishnets, her hand buried in the pockets that seem to have been sewn in herself. She has callouses on both her hands, but Peter knew that already. Her appearance would put Aphrodite to shame-- suddenly, Peter was much less confident in himself than he was before. He ran his hand through his hair again before reaching the basement.

          He held his breath as Grace looked around his room, her gaze lingering on the plethora of stolen signs and band posters covering the walls. She placed her backpack on the floor and walked over to Peter’s record collection, her fingers carefully flitting through the different albums. She seemed… impressed. It was then that Peter realized it had been silent for much too long.

          “Y’know I can, uh, p-play some music if you want me to. You can just pick a record and, uh, I’ll... play it,” Peter winced at his words, cursing himself for being so awkward in front of the girl he’d been pining after since the beginning of the year. He felt like everything had spiraled out of control, and he watched idly as it happened. Then, Grace shot him a smile and pulled out a record.

          “You have a good taste in music, Silver,” No one had ever called Peter ‘silver’ before. He liked it a bit more than he should. “Although, that’s not really a surprise. I had a feeling you were cool.” 

          “You think I’m cool?” Peter asked, shocked. He wasn’t sure he heard her correctly.

          “Oh, totally. I see you in the hallways sometimes and you always seem so… carefree. Genuine. I don’t know, I guess it’s just… you, ya know? You’re naturally cool.” Every syllable that rolled off her tongue shot euphoria through Peter’s veins. Grace DeCuerpo, the girl Peter Maximoff had dreamed of for almost a full year, was telling him that she thought he was cool. Naturally cool. 

          “I know a lot of people who would disagree with you on that one,” Peter joked. There was truth behind his humor, but of course, he didn’t want to get into his insecurities now. “They think I’m a total loser, which isn’t totally wrong I guess.”

          “Well those people are stupid,” She stated matter-of-factly with a smile. “Speaking of stupid, we should probably get to work.” Peter nodded before sitting beside her on the floor. 

          For three hours they poured over their algebra  books. They quizzed each other and checked each other’s work; Peter’s proficiency in simplifying radicals aiding them both. Every now and then their hands would brush against each other, or the conversation would stray away from school and into their personal lives. Peter learned that Grace had two brothers, one of which passed away when she was younger. Peter talked about Lorena and Wanda and his miraculous abilities in the same way that she talked about her hometown and her own abilities. The conversation was smooth and natural-- Peter didn’t feel like he was being too annoying or too chatty and there was seldom an awkward pause. The pair were content in their time together, not a single moment went by where one wished the other would leave. 

          Eventually, Grace had to go home. Peter wished that she could stay forever, but of course, that would be considered kidnapping. He walked her to the door, although Peter didn’t feel like he was walking. He felt like he was floating.

          “Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, Silver,” Grace said softly as she turned to face Peter. She looked him in the eye and he could feel his stomach flutter. 

          “Yeah, I guess so,” She opened the door, but before she left, she froze. She turned to look at Peter once again. 

          “Peter?” she said. “You’re not a loser.”

Friday

          Peter could tell the second he walked through the front door of his high school that something had changed. The energy that radiated in the halls shifted from a dull buzz of boredom to a rush of anticipation. The students in the hallway looked the same as always; tired and anxious and wishing for the day to go by quickly. However, Peter wasn’t wishing for the end of the day, and he certainly wasn’t tired. He was determined and energized and absolutely terrified, because that morning Peter Maximoff made the most important decision a seventeen-year-old could. He decided that he was going to ask Grace out on a date. 

          Peter made the choice to keep this from his friends-- it’s not that he didn’t trust them, it’s just that Peter knew he would be teased for his infatuation. It’s happened before and it will happen again. He walked down the hallways with a brave face on, his eyes forward and his heart racing. Truthfully, the silver teenager was terrified of… well, everything. The looming image of a harsh rejection forced itself into his mind; the idea that she would laugh in his face made his heart break a tiny bit, even though it wasn’t real. Peter simply shook those images away and walked on. 

          The day flew by much faster than Peter was comfortable with, and for the first time ever, he was dreading algebra  class. He was terrified that he would walk through the door and have everything be exactly the same-- he feared that Grace would go back to not knowing who he was, just like before. Peter was alright with never being her boyfriend, but he didn’t want to be a stranger. He didn’t think he could take being a stranger anymore. 

            So, there he stood, staring at the door to his algebra classroom from across the hall. He felt confident and prepared himself for the task at hand. In four long strides, he entered the classroom. Grace was sitting next to an empty desk, her eyes stuck on the small notebook full of doodles on her desk. Peter watched as her eyes raised to meet his, a wide smile forming on her face as she motioned him over. 

          “Hey, silver! I saved a seat for ya,” she called, and Peter felt his knees get weak. He then decided that he would wait until after class to ask her out. 

          “You did?”

          “Of course,” She grinned. “I like you, dude, you’re my friend,” Peter’s heart fluttered as he sat down beside her. Grace shot an odd look his way before reaching out and placing a hand on his arm. “Hey, you look stressed. Don’t sweat it, silver, you’ll do fine. We studied for, like, 3 hours yesterday. You’re gonna ace it,”

          To be frank, Peter had forgotten all about the test. The real reason he looked so stressed was because he happened to be sitting next to the love of his life, and the love of his life happened to be touching his arm. 

          “O-oh! Uh, yeah, thanks. I was just nervous because of… the test,” The bell rang and class began, the professor strictly laying down the rules that were to be followed while the test was in session. Peter could feel the lingering touch of her hand on his skin. It made his head feel fuzzy.

          Peter soon came to learn that sitting next to Grace during a test was a huge mistake. He couldn’t focus on anything other than her-- it didn’t help that she kept shooting him glances from where she sat. The numbers and letters on the paper in front of him seemed to rearrange before his eyes, instead spelling out various taunts. He feels a little pathetic for how easily Grace can unravel him, but hey, he’s a teenager. 

          The silver-haired boy’s eyes were struggling to decipher the words on his page when a small folded square landed on his desk. It came from Grace’s direction, and a small smirk had formed on her lips as she solved equations. Hesitantly, he unfolded the paper and read the neatly written message.

          Hey silver :)

          Peter smiled softly. He quickly pulled a pad of post-it notes out of his backpack and scribbled down a quick reply.

          I have no idea what I’m doing. I think Professor Stedman decided to write our tests in hieroglyphics this time.

          He flicked the note onto her desk and quickly turned his face downward. Class would be over soon, and Peter knew he couldn’t turn in a blank test. He uses his enhanced speed to do his assessment in seconds. Sure, he was almost certain he’d barely reach a passing grade, but hey, he had bigger matters to focus on. By the time he finished, another note landed on his desk.

          That bad, huh? Looks like we better study longer next time. 

          Peter’s heart swelled a bit. He really thought the study sessions were a one-time thing. He’s overjoyed to know he’ll get to see Grace semi-regularly, even if he never manages to ask her out.

          I think I’d rather hang out with you without the looming threat of schoolwork. 

          That’s the closest Peter could get to asking her out. He put deep thought into every word, he examined the phrasing and checked the spelling of every word. His english teacher would be proud.

          That can be arranged ;) 

          Peter had no idea that four words could make him feel so much. He had no idea that 17 letters could make him want to scream in the middle of a silent testing period. His hand was shaking and his careful planning was abandoned as he scribbled back a reply.

          Oh yeah? What did you have in mind?

          Patiently, he waited. He waited for Grace to finish writing her response and he waited for her to toss the note back over. He didn’t wait for more than a few minutes, but it felt like hours. He was panicking, and he was sure she could tell. She was probably joking, right? She was probably writing an awkward clarification-- she was probably explaining that she would actually rather die than be around him for non-academic reasons. He braced himself as the yellow post-it landed on the center of his desk.

          My aunt owns a drive-in a few miles from here and she gave me keys to the projector room and the gate. She managed to snag a copy of The Exorcist-- I thought you’d like to join me during my midnight escapade tomorrow night.

          Peter’s heart stopped. For a moment, he thought his eyes were fooling him. Maybe this was all some sick joke. Maybe he was being set up. Maybe he’ll get in her car tomorrow and she’ll drive him into the woods and murder him. To be completely honest, Peter wouldn’t mind if she murdered him. Peter wrote his reply.

          Really? You want me there? I might be a drag. You could probably find at least 20 other people who would probably be more interesting than me.

          Grace frowned at his response, and suddenly Peter decided he never wanted to see her frown again. She wrote confidently, her words solid and sure.

          You? A drag? Impossible. I don’t want to be alone, and I don’t want to be with anyone other than you, Maximoff. 

          This note was his undoing. He couldn’t help himself, he read it over and over and over again-- he almost forgot to respond. He wanted to hold onto it forever, he wanted it to be framed and hung on his wall. Hell, he wanted it tattooed on his arm. Peter had never been so happy while taking a test, that’s for sure. He wasn’t sure exactly what to say; he went from heartfelt responses to witty retorts. Finally, he decided to be totally and completely honest.

          I wouldn’t miss it for the world.

Saturday 

          There was seldom a time in his life where Peter Maximoff felt wholly content. Even in the most peaceful moments, there was always something bothering him, there was always something to pull him back to reality. However, sitting in the back of Grace’s dad’s convertible with the seats down and the roof pulled back, his head resting on her shoulder as they watched a cheesy horror movie, Peter was as close to nirvana as he’d ever been. 

          Life had always been so hard for Peter. He’s always had to fight for his seat at the table, to claw his way into a state of mind that wasn’t a hellhole. It seemed as if the world was plotted against him; he was ostracized from society and taught that he, along with his closest family and friends, were monsters. He never met his father and his mother spent so long fighting her own battles that she forgot to love her kids. Peter had to steal to stay fed, and he had to do his best to raise his little sisters to be good people. But right there, right then? That wasn’t hard. Peter didn’t have to be anyone or do anything-- he just had to exist next to someone who wanted him. That was the easiest thing Peter had ever done.

          Peter wasn’t exactly sure how he got there. Of course, he knew that they had driven to the drive-in, but he wasn’t sure how he was the person next to Grace. They had spoken for one day, maybe two, and somehow he landed himself in the most perfect spot in the entire universe. Less than a week ago, she didn’t even know his name. Or, maybe she did. Maybe she was just like Peter-- maybe she had spent the past year pining for him, and finally she worked up the nerve to just talk to him. Maybe. Peter isn’t complaining either way.

          “Can I ask you a kind of cheesy question?” Peter is startled by the sound of his own voice. Grace sits up and glances at him.

          “Shoot,”

          “Do you-- well, uh, don’t read too much into this, but, do you believe in love at first sight?” God, he sounded awkward. 

          “Nope,” She said bluntly. Peter wasn’t expecting that answer, but he wasn’t exactly disappointed by it. “I mean, it’s kind of a stupid idea, ya know? Like, isn’t there a million poems and sonnets and books written about how love is this weird complicated monster of a feeling? I don’t think you can really love someone just by looking at them. You can love the idea of a person, sure, or maybe the look of a person, but you can’t love that person. Because a person is so much more than ‘first sight’,” she sighs. “I don’t know, maybe I’m being a killjoy. It just seems dumb to me-- dumb and, I don’t know, exclusive,”

          Peter stops to think for a moment. He steps out of his lovesick chaotic hellbrain and looks at his feelings from an outside perspective. He thinks back to the kingdom he created in his brain-- a kingdom built on a foundation of sand. Or, less than sand. Holographic sand, because the sand he built his kingdom on wasn’t real. He made a mental note that ‘Holographic Sand’ is a kickass band name, then resumed his impromptu soul-searching. She was right-- he could see  that now. Scott was right, too. You really can’t love someone you don’t know, because if you don’t know them, you fill in the gaps. You fill in the gaps with what you think fits, and then the other person stops being them and starts being parts of you. Peter suddenly felt weird.

          “I’m sorry if I said something wrong,” Grace interjects after a while. Peter hadn’t realized he’d been silent for so long.

          “You didn’t say anything wrong. On the contrary, you, uh, you made things a little bit more… right, in my brain. You somehow managed to take a little chunk of chaos and tame it, which is scarily impressive,” he joked. “Remind me to ask you your opinion on the meaning of life and the root of true happiness,” They’re joined in a chorus of laughter and Peter realizes that his little brain kingdom didn’t hold a candle to the red convertible he was sitting in. She slings an arm around his shoulders.

          “Y’know, I might not know the meaning of life, but I am pretty close to true happiness right now,” She says, softer than before. “Maybe the root of true happiness is you, Maximoff,” She chuckles. Peter smiles. He doesn’t want the ruin the moment-- god, he is desperately trying to keep himself from fucking it up, but he feels obligated to tell her about his year of pining.

          “Hey, uh, can I tell you something kinda pathetic?” He cringes at the way his voice trembled on the last word. 

          “Go ahead, Peter,” She used his name this time. Peter thinks she knows he’s about to say something mildly serious.

          “I’ve liked you since, like, the beginning of the year. You seemed so… cool. So nice. I saw you in the hallways and my stomach would get all twisted up and my head would hurt a little bit. It was like I was allergic to you, but I enjoyed it. That sounds weird. I’m sorry,” He stopped for a moment, attempting to take the buzzing mass of words in his brain and string them into a sentence. “I was too afraid to talk to you, so I, uh, asked around. I got other people’s opinions of you and then built a little version of you in my brain. I realize now that, uhm, the little brain version of you is like, way way worse than actual you,”

          When you talked to me the first time, you threw me off. I wasn’t really nervous about the test-- I mean, yeah I was nervous but that’s not why I looked so pale. I just wasn’t expecting for you to talk to me, like, willingly. So I lied because I was embarrassed. And I lied again in class yesterday. Because I was embarrassed,” He stopped talking. Peter felt like he was digging himself into a hole-- he felt like he killed the sweet sugary mood. 

          “Why are you telling me this?” Grace asked. She didn’t sound angry. She sounded a little confused, and she sounded like she was trying to help Peter decipher his brain. 

          “I don’t know, I guess I just feel bad. I feel bad for, uh, for not being honest I guess. I feel bad for being a coward,” Yep, definitely killed the mood.

          “Peter, you shouldn’t feel bad for being afraid, you know,” She assures. “I would’ve done the exact same thing in your position. Hell, I did do the exact same thing in your position,” That caught Peter’s attention.

          “What?”

          “You didn’t drop your keys in algebra. You dropped them somewhere in bio and my friend found them. She was gonna take them to the office, but I wanted an excuse to talk to you, so I said I’d return them,” Peter couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He was being pranked, he had to be. “Being awkward and weird is like a requirement in high school. Don’t sweat it, Maximoff, really. We’re all the same in that way, I think,”

          Peter felt a wave of relief wash over him. He was feeling too much at that moment, he was letting the bad drown out the good. He didn’t want to remember the day in a sad light.

          “I like you. A lot. Even if you are awkward and weird,” He smiles softly. Slowly, ever so slowly, he intertwined his fingers with those of the girl beside him. It was a simple display of affection, but it made Peter feel like he was floating.

          “I like you too, dork,” Peter smiled widely before placing his head back on Grace’s shoulder. Peter wasn’t paying attention to the movie, in fact, he wasn’t paying attention to anything at all. No, Peter was lost in his head again-- but this time, he wasn’t standing on a false kingdom with a false version of the girl he liked. No, this time, he was thinking about the very real girl beside him. He was thinking about the perfect world they had created in the small car they were in; a perfect world where he felt so much emotion and so, so safe. They had built a utopia in the back seat- a blissful tower of awkwardness and comfort and clumsy confessions. A paradise where he sat in the back seat of a Ford Galaxie with Graciella DeCuerpo, the pretty girl from algebra class, sitting right next to him. 

[bodyofvvater]

sweetheart

quite frankly got no fucking clue if this is even good at this point but i spent time on it so im posting it anyway. it’s soft. it’s gay. thats it

julia ortega/f!sidestep, 2.1k words, basically just a long-ass discussion about sexuality. slight retribution spoilers ahead

--- “So how did you know?”

The question comes out of the blue, breaks the sleepy silence that had settled between you. Your thoughts were elsewhere, muddled and quiet for once, still a little high off of Ortega’s hands, but her words drag them back to the present.

“How did I know what?” you ask. You can’t tell what thread she’s pulling on, can’t even dig into her head for answers, so you have to find out the old fashioned way.

“That you’re… Well, not straight,” Ortega explains. A little sheepish smile; “I guess I never asked you what you call yourself.”

A short silence.

“Lesbian, I guess,” you say then, and you’ve never said that out loud before, but that tends to be how it goes with Ortega. She asks questions you never thought to ask yourself, and then you spit out your gut reaction and hope it doesn’t come back to bite you.

Not that this is entirely a gut reaction. Not that you haven’t spent too much time trying to put words to it. Trying to find an answer for why you’ve found yet another way to set yourself apart from the hive. Another defect, you used to think. These days you try not to think about it at all. 

Not that Ortega knows that.

“I told you how I figured out I was bi earlier,” she continues in the absence of any further explanation on your part, and you try not to linger on earlier, because what comes after that is warm hands and soft kisses and no, not going there right now. 

“You did,” you agree, because you know she wants to continue, and you shouldn’t let her, but she’s smiling and you don’t want her to stop. Sucker.

“I guess I… Well, I’m curious,” she admits, hand reaching out to touch your shin next to her on the couch. The casual intimacy of it makes your heart leap into your throat. “If you don’t mind talking about it. Not that you have to! We can leave it, if you want.”

I do, you want to say, and don’t ask me again. You don’t know why it’s a sore spot; if anything, this is one of the few things that should be easy. This is one part of you she knows, one secret you don’t have to keep. Not even really a secret at all--if she ever had doubts that you liked women, sleeping with her probably dispelled the last of them.

So why do you want to keep it anyway?

“It’s… a little complicated,” you sigh in the end, because as much as you want to keep this to yourself, you also want to see the way Ortega’s eyes light up when she realizes you’re sharing. It’s a stupid, soft look on her, and you’re even stupider and softer for the way your heart flutters in your chest, but you’ve already indulged yourself plenty tonight, so what’s a little softness to top it off.

“How so?” she asks, interested. In you. You try not to dwell too much on that. 

“I don’t know, I guess no one ever really told me what I was supposed to be,” you say, and maybe it’s a bit of a lie in the grand scheme of things, but in this particular instance it’s true. You weren’t built for feelings or romance, not beyond necessary performance. You were never expected to think about it. “It didn’t come up. All of that wasn’t even on my radar until—”

Until I met you, you stop yourself from saying, and suddenly you can’t look at her. That’s another layer to this you don’t need; Ortega knowing what she does to you. What she means to you. Still.

You dare a half-glance at her out of your peripheral, and it tells you all you need to know; your silence speaks too loudly. Even if she doesn’t know, she has an idea now. Ortega’s expression has gone all gentle and open, looking at you like something precious. It makes you want to scratch at your arms, but you wring your fingers tightly together in your lap to keep them still.

“I,” you start again, but the words don’t come, so you start over. “It’s not like I wasn’t… looking, before. The implications just didn’t register.”

That part is honest enough that you cringe a little. Even before you had a mind of your own, you were always aware that women were aesthetically more appealing than men. It just took you a while before you realized that wasn’t a universal truth.

“So no, uh… relationships before? Then?” Ortega asks, and the absence of her usual smooth demeanor would be a triumph if the unspoken before me? wasn’t so blatantly obvious. As it stands, you force yourself to meet her eyes, because you need the upper hand back, and head-on is the only way you know how to get it.

“I told you this was my first time,” you say with a scowl, stubbornly ignoring the way your face flushes.

“Right,” she amends, wearing a smile that’s halfway between smug and apologetic, “I just meant normal stuff, like dating.”

The word normal feels like a punch to the gut, and it’s a struggle not to get angry. You’re not entirely sure you succeed, and you think she sees it too. The smile dims considerably, just the slightest shadow of it left.

“Sorry,” she says, although you don’t think she knows what she’s saying sorry for, and you’re not about to tell her. 

“No relationships before Sidestep,” you say instead, backtracking to the last semblance of comfortable territory in this conversation. “Or during, for that matter.” You both know that part’s not entirely true, but you’re not about to admit that.

“That doesn’t really answer my question,” Ortega says, all careful and quiet. She knows she’s stepping on uneven ground, but she does it anyway. That’s your fault, you suppose; you’ve let her get away with too much. You’re gonna let her get away with more.

“What do you mean?” you ask even though you know, because you’re not giving up without a fight, at the very least.

“I asked when you knew,” she says. “Or how you knew, I guess. If you have an answer.”

You keep your eye contact out of sheer spite, but it’s a close thing. You’re not sure why it hits as hard as it does; it’s just a question, and a personal one at that. It should be annoying. Maybe it still is. That doesn’t stop your eyes from burning a little at the tenderness you find in hers.

Maybe it’s just that she cares. You’re still not used to that. You don’t know if you can ever be.

“It’s not a very interesting story,” you sigh, and for a moment you can’t even remember if there’s much of a story at all. Then the memory hits you, hard enough to force something that might sound like an embarrassed laugh out of you. Not that you would ever be caught dead actually doing that. 

“I went to go get antiseptic and band-aids a little after my debut,” you mumble in the futile hope that Ortega won’t be able to hear. As if the room isn’t quiet enough to be able to hear a pin drop. “I wasn’t very good at the whole sidestepping business yet, and I needed to patch myself up. I didn’t know the layout of the store, though, and my eye was kinda swollen, so I had to ask the clerk to show me where stuff was.”

You pause, waiting for Ortega to make some quip about you? Asking for help? I never thought I’d see the day, but she stays quiet. Just looks at you, like every word out of your mouth is a favor.

That particular thought gets booted as soon as it appears.

“So this woman follows me to the right aisle, and she’s, like, stupidly gorgeous. Tall, dark hair, dark eyes, looked like she could pick me up no problem.”

This time, Ortega doesn’t stay quiet, and you realize what just came out of your mouth a second too late. “Got a type there?” There’s a smug smile on her lips now, and it would be so easy to just kick your leg out and wipe it off, but you decide to have mercy. You’ll have plenty of opportunities to fight her later, of that you are sure. 

That’s the only reason. Definitely not because the warm presence of her hand on your leg is a comfort you don’t want to give up.

“Shut up,” you say instead, and she does, but she keeps smiling. Idiot. “So she shows me where the stuff I need is, and she gets something off a shelf for me, and as she hands it to me she goes ‘here you are, sweetheart’.”

“Aw, was that when you realized?” Ortega cuts in, sounding much too fond and much too smug. “A pet name?”

You sigh, weighing the pros and cons of letting her keep her assumptions and ending the story there. It’s a plausible ending, and Ortega certainly doesn’t need to know any more embarrassing details about you. She already knows what you sound like with her mouth anywhere lower than your collarbones, and that’s more than enough.

But she’s looking at you and her eyes are all lit up, and the hand on your leg is on your knee now, and you feel so human it’s almost a little overwhelming. Just one step removed from normal, so close. You want to step closer. Just to see what it’s like. Just to try. Hand on the stove just to make sure it’s hot.

This is stupid, you tell yourself, this is the stupidest thing you’ve ever done, and then you do it anyway, just to spite yourself.

“Not exactly,” you mumble, trying to stop your lips from quirking up into a smile. You don’t need to give Ortega outright permission to laugh. “I got… a little flustered. I guess. And I started backing away and I-- well, there was another customer crouched down to get something on a shelf right behind me.”

“Wait, you--?” Ortega begins, but you don’t let her finish.

“I fell on my ass and took some old dude and two shelves of band-aids with me.” Your face is burning, but you’re determined not to acknowledge it.

“Hania!” Ortega exclaims, sits up straight so suddenly the movement nearly makes you jump. A huge grin takes up her entire face, and you hate that it’s contagious. “You’re kidding! That doesn’t even sound like you!”

“Yeah, well, it was a different time.” You try for your best approximation of a scowl, but you think it ends up more like reluctant amusement, which is too true to be comfortable. “Figured that wasn’t the average straight experience. The specifics came later.”

“And all that because of a pet name.” It’s not a question. Ortega raises an amused eyebrow at you, and Christ, you’re going to regret telling her this, but it’s worth it for how average you feel. Just a moment where the constant wailing storm of what you’ve done and what you have to do calms down to a faint hum.

“Not all because of a pet name,” you protest, because that’s what you do.

“Oh, is that so, sweetheart?” she asks, all self-satisfied confidence, and the hand that has lightly rested on your leg until now curls to your calf, grips securely and pulls. You want to be angry at how easy it still is for her to just move you as she pleases, but you can’t help the little thrill as she smoothly coaxes you off the armrest you had been propped up against. 

“Shut up,” you say, most definitely not smiling like an infatuated idiot, now lying flat on your back on the couch. Certainly not smiling wider when she moves to join you, chest to chest and noses almost touching. All soft, warm pressure, a comfort you’re going to complain about later to regain a little self-control.

“What’s the matter, babe?” she asks, hand on your thigh now, and you ignore the resulting flip of your stomach in favor of rolling your eyes at her. “Baby? Honey? Love? If you don’t pick one, I’ll just keep using all of them.”

“You’re such a pain in the ass,” you complain, bumping her nose a little with yours. If you’re creative, you can convince yourself it’s an acceptable substitute for the punch you should be throwing.

“Are you saying you don’t like it?” Her voice is all feigned innocence, and you want to call her on it, because she knows damn well that’s not what you’re saying. But that would entail actually telling her as much, and that’s not going to happen.

“Shut up,” you say again instead. Then you kiss her to make sure she does.

[ursoself-satisfying]

My Sweet Lord (ch1)

dude is that fucking brenda song?? lol i forgot he was in social network w her what a world huh??? 

Chapter One - Genesis 3:23 

Priest!Joe Mazzello x F!Reader, SFW, 2.5k words 

My Sweet Lord masterlist 

A/N: ugh this is super short but its rly just kind of an intro,,,, I’m testing the  waters here,,,, idk why this was so hard for me to write like its not as good as I want it to be but I’m ok w it rn,,, I might come back n rewrite it real soon n go in n change that so be warned lol but i’m rly excited for where this is going to go cus I do have a lot planned its just getting jumbled in translation lol but enjoy!!

special thanks given in this post!! you can find whole accompanying laylists there as well not just single associated songs!!!  

Warning(s): none rn,, unless a priest being kinda into u or u being into a priest is bad cus thats gonna be this whole fucking series m8 so if u dont enjoy defiling holy ground n religious imagery i suggest u move on sorry!!! 

The church was filled to the brim with life, with colors and sounds. There were your newest acquaintances, knitting in the corner. They were the main source of the commotion, all shrill laughs, and clacking needles. On the pews further ahead were some children, and a man attempting to corral them but failing in the end. The squeals of the kids echoed through the crowds and came to where you stood at the entrance. When you took in the scene, you were surprised the doors could even close given how the entire town had flocked to its sonorous halls this cold Sunday morning. Inside it was somehow still just as bright like the blinding clouds had followed your shadow.

Though you’d admittedly been to few churches in your lifetime, this one you were sure was exceptionally stunning. How such a grand masterpiece ended up out in these boonies was beyond you. You had felt a bit silly at first, attending mass at all but then you saw the steeple and then there you were, standing in awe of how the building seemed to soar above you. The view of it as you had driven up the small hill was impossible to replicate, how the belltower rose over the rolling grass like the sun that unknowingly led you the dawn of your new life. In your juvenile appreciation of its architecture, you lost yourself in the way the worn stone of the support beams still held the tall ceilings up like pillars of salt to the heavens.

Pillars of salt, you thought, was a fitting image for your situation. Surely you must have blended right into the columns, tributes to every other woman who approached religion and turned their heads back. You were ripped from your runaway thoughts, though, by the bustle of bodies behind you and the urging but ultimately gentle hand that came to squeeze your upper arm. Beatrice stopped at your side and looked up at you with shining, young eyes that got lost in the folds of her lids when she smiled.

There was somehow a familiar and comforting aura about her and when she touched you a blanket of trust always came with the contact. With the top of her auburn beehive just reaching your eyes, her bent body led you to the very front pew and gestured for you to take a seat on the sandalwood. You did as told with a thin smile, still distracted by the arched ceiling of the chapel around you.

As you waited in the congregation for the priest to begin his sermon, your mind wandered to the morning, how the belltower rose, tall and white, over the rolling green hills like the first sun dawning on a new world. Impossible to replicate. It was an unknowing sign of things to come. The church wasn’t something you expected to ever return to much less for it to become something you looked forward to, something that would end up being such a large part of your life. That was all yet, to come through, for, at this moment, your thoughts weren’t busied by the future but rather by the thought of the blinding white exterior of this place of worship, how bright it had been in those early hours.

The organ began and its resonance nearly shook you from your seat, but it certainly caught your attention as intended. The people rose in unison, you doing your best to follow, unfamiliar with the practices seeing as your last time in mass would have been before you were able to remember anything about it. The songs, though, were vaguely familiar, maybe reminiscent of something you’d heard on the radio, seeing as this town picked up almost purely religious stations.

You moved your mouth along to the words, not knowing exactly what they were but doing your best to look like you were competent. The song ended and you sat, grateful it was over, huffing a bit when your body hit the wood. The father beside you gave you an awkward smile when you attempted to cover your relief with a cough and a straightening of your back.

Then when you looked up from your awkward encounter-

Were you very religious? Not particularly, but when in Rome, do as the Romans, right? So when in church, pray. Maybe there had been a little prayer going on in your heart since you entered the building, hell, since you entered the town, a prayer for good things to come, and God must have heard those unintentional prayers because behold before you was what must have been an angel.

He walked slowly to the podium, robes dragging behind him and a glow seeming to emanate from the crown of his head. He seemed like the only living proof of a God that you could find in the whole of the chapel. His hair was wispy, auburn, and looked so soft, reminding you of clouds, and maybe cotton candy if cotton candy were brandy flavored. Bronze, you thought would be the right shade.

The stained glass behind him spread like wings, angels on either side surely singing of his beauty and softness. The haze of his arrival washed over you and you were enraptured. You never thought someone could so quickly feel this way. The romcoms were nice, but they were unrealistic, and most definitely did not happen to you of all people. Completely prepared to shove down these feeling, deep down underneath the mattress of your soul and leave them there to rot, you allowed yourself to enjoy the sermon, or at the very least, enjoy the priest.

God, your gaze hadn’t dropped past his eyebrows before you completely fell. His eyes were soft, pleading, forgiving, but young and curious as well. His nose? You adored immediately. He had, in the kindest way, what you would have referred to as an ‘old man’ nose, a little long, strong, gave him an impeccable silhouette that shown like a holy imagine again the early morning backlight, sun streaming from the tall windows behind him. His chin was soft and cleanshaven, his lips, soft and puffy and lush and looking simply perfect to kiss.

Kiss? You shook your head briefly, half attempting to banish these thoughts you knew you shouldn’t be thinking, but having been so completely lost in his image that you had missed the beginning of his sermon. The congregation spoke back at him at certain times, words you vaguely remembered from childhood. The echoes of “and also with you” kept you anchored to reality as you struggled not to get lost in the languid movements he made as he moved about behind the podium. He spoke animatedly about- Well, you weren’t exactly paying attention, but you did notice how he spoke with his hands, waving them about when he said something about the glory and grace that has been granted so many. His hands were long and thin and surely would be long and thin enough to fit perfectly between your-

The organ boomed through the hall and shook you from your daydream, again, and you, again, tried to lipsync your way through the unfamiliar hymn and failing, again. You had stood for the song, and the stretch was welcome after clenching your thighs so obviously together for so long, but when you sat back down, the cool of the wood and the wetness of your panties made you visibly shudder. Dear, sweet, Beatrice placed a feeble hand on your arm as a sign of concern, along with her shakily drawn on eyebrows being raised. Gripping her wrinkled hand carefully, you smiled, tight-lipped, as a reply of ‘I’m fine’.

You again turned from your elderly friend to the man at the front of the room, the one who demanded your attention with his repetition and his- He smiled, all teeth, cheeks puffing up. A sharp intake of breath was all you could muster before he began to pray. The rest of those looking on seemed to know what to do and you did your best to imitate, but as he pushed his hair back, your lips fell apart and you crossed your legs in desperation, his clergy status seeming to only turn you on more. Fuck, you chastised your own attraction to the taboo. As clandestine as it may have been, though, God, did it turn you on.

“Lord have mercy,” he said, voice effortlessly both round and light.

“Lord have mercy,” you pleaded breathlessly.

“Christ have mercy.” His eyes rose to meet yours for the first time and you choked.

“Christ have mercy” came out like a whine under your breath, unheard under the rest of the mass, but you knew he saw your chest rise and fall heavily as you seemingly tried to breathe in his prayer and send it back to him.

“Lord have mercy.” His own voice wavered when he saw you, red in the face and out of breath. His gaze didn’t move from you as you mouthed the words back at him.

“Lord have mercy.”

Unbeknownst to you, this was not, in fact, the first time he’d laid eyes on you. He had been watching you, side-eyed, the whole service. If his peripheral served him right, you had been the one with your eyes glued to him since he’d first emerged from his chambers. He saw you stand out in the mass, the last of the congregation to sit down after prayers or songs. He was unable to tell whether this was due to you being distracted or inexperienced, or both, but it caught his attention without catching yours, darting his own away just in time as to not catch your gaze. It seemed to work so long as he kept his focus on the other side of the chapel, though the magnetism of your attentive gaze was hard to resist. The man didn’t let himself give in, not until he somehow heard your barely audible repetitions after those of the congregation. Then you saw one another, caught in the undeniable stare of interest. Suddenly, his lungs felt like iron on his chest and he struggled to finish praying.

Again, you were pulled down by the older woman next to you, unaware everyone had been seated and for a moment it was just you and him, standing and caught in this sudden whirlwind of unknown attraction. The world seemed to dissolve around you, focus seeming to blur and leave you with tunnel vision on the holy man. His sermon paused for a moment as he stared at you and smiled softly. You could feel his eyes fall down your body, but then his voice picked up again, being carried over your head in smooth, calming waves and you were lost, again, in his presence that loomed over the crowd like the hanging branches of a willow on a sticky summer day. For the remainder of his sermon, you focused less on his words and more on the mystery that might be hiding beneath those layers and layers of robes that dragged behind him.

If you asked Joe why you caught his attention, he would tell you that you were the first young and clearly not familial woman he had seen in town since his arrival. This was true, that in a town occupied only by elderly folks and new families, you were the first young face he had seen in a long time. Of course, it didn’t help that he found you incredibly attractive and that, as a newly appointed man of the cloth, he had been experiencing somehow more temptations than ever before.

Every verse he read was budding with new meaning and potential, every lust soaked gaze sent your direction waning to go through with it. There was, of course, a pang in his heart every time the thought of you passed through his head. The allure of a woman who was neither the age of his grandmother nor heavily with child was far more than it should it have been. Father Joe knew it was wrong, that he must keep his mind as clean as his body, his thoughts as clean as his actions. “Good thoughts, good words, good deeds,” he said aloud to the congregation, using his slip as some kind of holy motivation.

Another song followed, then a prayer and every time he stood the priest had to force his eyes forward, away from the direction you were sitting. His thoughts went back to the way your skirt slid up your thigh when you sat down and how you must have known how much skin you were showing but when his eyes met yours with one final, united “Amen”, he knew you were too distracted to have noticed.

You watched the priest with unintentional intensity, looking as though you were spaced out, lost in thought and caught on his words, but the reality was that you were simply entranced. All the time you’d spent in this town so far and you had yet to see anyone as young and painfully unavailable as him. Though in the back of your mind you wondered how fidelious some of these new husbands were, you had settled with remaining single, that is, until now. What was more delicious than a man who was not only gorgeous, mature, and clearly into you already, but also one so out of reach, so taboo and clandestine. The beating of your heart when he would slip up and land his eyes on your form a little too long thrummed against the bars of your ribcage like Morse code, an aching organ begging to be hurt.

The service had ended and Beatrice had eagerly joined her group of cawing old ladies, but not before kindly introducing you to the sweet-faced Father that had spoken today. “Darling, this is Father Mazzello, he’s new to the Ridge.” Her smile was sickly sweet and you couldn’t help but smile back, keeping your eyes from the man approaching you.

He’d traded the excess robes for a simple black ensemble already and when he approached you and, God, he looked even better now. His hand was extended to you firmly, holding back any eagerness behind a front of eminence and dignity. Beatrice spoke again as you finally lifted your longing gaze from his nimble, capable, horribly inspiring hands, up his arms, across his shoulders, and finally to his green eyes. They were so much prettier up close. “Father Mazzello,” your friend spoke warmly, “this is [Y/N]. The dear has been staying with me and I’ve finally convinced her to get a bit of God in her.” She laughed and you took the man’s extended hand, holding it motionless.

“I would love a bit of God in me,” you laughed quietly, hopefully only loud enough for him to hear.

Joe swallowed dryly at your low comment and the softness of your hand, “It’s nice to meet you, [Y/N],” he smiled crookedly, “and you can call me Joe.”

[karmade]

okay... i didnt like far from home.

well, spiderman far from home spoilers ahead.

i honestly never expected that I’ll type up something like that after spider man movie... after homecoming, that comforted my tortured by civil war soul in best way possible, i hoped that far from home will help me, and peter, to cope with endgame.

well, it made me feel worse. 

Starting with: NICK FURY. I always had up and down relationship with him, but after Captain Marvel I was really cool with him. Yet in FFH, he hit the bottom way too fast: Fury demands Spider Man to help take down creatures that supposedly destroyed the earth of other dimension: water and fire element creatures. Spider Man, who’s abilities include super strenght, agility, stickiness and webs... is simply just not fit to help with this kind of villians. What exactly Dr Strange is doing, when other dimentions are actually his shtick? Where’s Wanda? What about Hulk, Wakandian soldiers (and tech), hey, where’s Rhodey? There was fucking battalion of superheroes at the end of Endgame, but this supposed apocalyptic villian is only fit to fight by 16 years old teenager? Okay.... Well, I get it that it’s a plot point, that there will be no Spider man movie if this plot point didnt exist, but they could have at least designed a villian more fit to make Spider Man’s abilities essential. ANYWAY: Fury decides on this 16 years old and uses tranquliser on his 16 years old friend (which was not creepy and unnecessary at aaaaaall).  But then Peter says no (we’ll get to that later) and Fury? Fucking tries to guiltrip him by using Tony. I am so completely livid about it, Fury saying some shit about ‘oh I guess Stark was wrong about you’ TO A KID TONY LOVED, OBVIOUSLY HAD A HIGHEST REAGARD FOR AND NEVER DOUBTED AND WOULD HAVE NEVER FUCKING ASKED SOMETHING LIKE THAT FROM IN THE FIRST PLACE, FUCK YOU. Fury using Tony to make this KID feel bad about himself, reminding Peter about death of his friend and mentor and, yeah, possibly father figure, basically by implying that apparently Tony would have been dissapointed... that shit was low. The fuck. But Peter still says no, so Nick Fury goes and steers a WHOLE BUS OF TEENAGERS TO EPICENTRE OF DANGER. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING MEEEE. If I’ll hear one more WORD about tony kidnapping peter to berlin after this, I’m going to fucking explode.

EDITH: the first ever Tony Stark’s AI that had no emotions. I used to think that it was Friday operating Tony’s glasses, watch and everything, but it’s beside the point: unlike her brothers and sisters, Edith shows no hints of having her own mind, she’s a THING that can be simply transferred to the wrong guy and dont mind it. JARVIS was able to tell that Ultron was hostile, AND when he was hurt and disentegrated he STILL had a mind to protect nuclear codes without being ordered to. Yet Edith is fine with destroying cities, harming people and killing Spider Man. I guess it’s a small point to be peeved with, since she’s artifical, but it sure would have been nice if Edith (created by Tony who LOVED to be prepared for everything)  had protocols to prevent her from being used against civilians (AT LEAST be familiar with Spider Man and Peter Parker to NOT shoot him on command) and they would have had to hack her to remove it. But oh well. 

What REALLY hurt me about Edith tho, was how easily Peter let the glasses go. It was unexpected and sad and I’d say rather poorely executed. Again, giving up the glasses was a plot point, but the scene itself, it was done in such way that I felt no reluctance from Peter. It was a thing Tony left for him, a parting gift, yet Peter gives it away like it didnt matter, even more so, it felt like he was happy to part with it, phew, thanks god it’s not my burden anymore! Also, Tony was really, really protective of his tech: his suit, his watch, his AIs, his bots, his glasses... all of them were part of him, never intended to be given over to goverment or military or some stranger. He gave Peter those glasses because Peter could use them like Tony did, discreetly, while out of costume, and because he knew that Peter would NEVER use them to harm people. But seeing Peter giving over those glasses to some stranger he met only two days ago, as some kind of sacrifice to not feel bad about not joining Fury’s new superhero team, that left a bad taste in my mouth. So bad, in fact, that I still feel it.

(And while we’re on topic of AI, what about Karen? Where is she? Peter used 3 different types of costumes in this movie (minus black one that wasnt stark tech) and she never said a word. Thats... weird, dissapointing and sad.)

BECK: That piece of shit. Yes, I hated that it was yet another ‘IT’S ALL TONY STARK’S FOULT!’ origin. Just.. how many more villians ranting about how and why they hate tony marvel wants me to endure? Because I honestly lost count by this point. And yeah, movie didnt try to make Tony problematic, yeah, they did not try to make us sympathetic toward Beck, they kept enforcing the idea of Tony being good and selfless superhero Peter should aspire to be, but. I still hated it. I hated that they dragged Tony into it, I hated villains cheering that Tony is now dead, I hated that they used stark tech to destroy cities and harm people, I hated Beck wearing or just touching Edith... I hated it, okay. And people WILL now use this 'tony steals tech!' agenda out of context how they happily blame tony for 'kidnapping and blackmailing' peter, 'trying to kill bucky in cold blood', 'siding with ross and splitting avengers apart', 'creating murderous bot'... it's now out there, even if BARF is obviously property of SI and Beck is obviously a psycho.

PETER: I love Tom Holland’s Peter Parker. I love him, I never stopped. But. But. In homecoming, Peter’s inner tremor of wanting to be of use so badly but not called up or trusted to be of help was a very well executed theme of the movie. Peter had a bravado of I’M NOT A KID, I CAN DO IT! in the first half of the movie, that led him to failing big time on the ferry, to him having this big emotional choice of WHO, IF NOT ME on homecoming night, to declining an Avenger title. It was so so so so so well done emotionally. And I was so ready to cry my soul out in FFH, expecting Peter to have so much inner struggle between wanting to distance himself from superheroing after endgame and wanting to help people and trying to fit in in tony’s shoes and not seeing himself capable of it... I searched for those undertones so much in every scene, but all I really felt was Peter not really wanting to be in this movie at all. He’s a kid! I get it! He’s a kid I love and want to protect, okay! But after 4 movies of knowing Peter Parker who jumped in the MOMENT someone was in danger, it baffled me how reluctant he was to help in FFH, basically forced to do it. We could theoritise about him having trouble coping after endgame all day long, but after IM3, brilliantly showing Tony struggling to cope after traumatic events, FFH did not deliever. They tried, but, it was some bland dialogue and barely any subtlety, just a kid wanting to go on his date, already, can you please ask someone else?

Scene with Happy was good, tho. How Peter goes to him but is scared to trust him at first, how Happy is gentle with him, the talk, the in plane lab, the music. It was good bit, but. It was just small bit.

Another thing I loved was MJ, who was a delight, her scenes were good and pure, and Zendaya did perfect job on portraying her struggles of liking Peter and worrying about him being Spider Man and still not being sure about it and trying to appear indifferent and above it all... she was really great and endearing and her scenes with Peter were lovely. The kiss(es) scene was one of the purest kissing scenes I witnessed in a superhero movie, god bless it.

HOLOGRAMS: They were scary, I guess. They were disorienting and difficult to follow and 100% made to whoa you with 3D effects. But I felt completely detached from feelings that those illusions should have summoned up, because for the most part Peter wore the mask and thus we could not see his face or read his emotions. Ironman zombie was by far most unnecessary bit, I was scared that Beck would use Tony in his illusions, barely breathing whole thing, but then ironman zombie showed up and I actually relaxed, cringing. It was just that, a scene that makes you pull a disgusted face, not touching your emotions at all. Somehow...disappointing. Also... Tony CONSTANTLY used heat signature scanner to check up where civillians and villians were. It's a feature that exist and could have been greatly used against holograms. But oh well.

POST CREDITS SCENE: So Beck was even more shitstain of a person, okay. So his grand plan B was to frame Spider Man, okay. The scene was supposed to make me jump from my seat with WHAAAAT and kickstart thirst for 3rd movie, but... I just stood up and walked straight out of cinema feeling strangely hollow and disappointed. I guess... it wasn't bad movie? I won't try to change the opinion to those who liked it. I look forward to seeing gifs and reading thoughts of those who liked/loved the movie. I might change my mind on some bits. But I waited for this movie so much and in two hours I barely enjoyed maybe about 15 minutes of it and it's something i never expected after adoring homecoming and all the peter scenes in other movies. Maybe it's that they murdered Tony and I lost ability to enjoy marvel movies anymore, maybe it's just that.

(finally, I guess it’s too picky of me to be peeved by this, but science school teenagers coming up with ‘i will always love you’ google search grainy picture tribute video was so anticlimatic it was uncomfortable to watch. There’s nothing hillarious about death of those characters, and it did not lighten the mood at all, it only made me uncomfortable and wrong footed. It’s also not how teenagers novadays make tribute videos.)

[bibbleboo]

Could we get some headcanons/more background on Abbey and Doyle’s kids? 🥺👉👈 I love the premise of this AU

YEEEEE (im just gonna ramble a bunch about the backstory i have so far but ill put it in bullets so its easier to follow lol i apologize for it being long as fuck-)

OKAY SO,,, first of all,,, doyle and abbey timeline,,,, [i am looking respectfully]

in this au, they get back together and have a sort of ‘lovers pretending to be enemies’ chaotic on again/off again hookup thing off to the side just between the two of them thru like Most of the final season, they try to keep it a secret (especially doyle who doubts the saturdays would be hAPPY if he was seeing her again) but in the end, saturdays ofc find out, probably are unsure about it at first, but she gains enough of their trust to be there for the big finale battle in the weird world mansion.

when shit goes down and argost becomes the vessel for the two opposing kurs (regular kur, and the anti kur from zak monday) and they like. explode his matter or w/e, i imagine instead of kur just completely disappearing, the ‘anti kur’ gets shot back to its universe, while original kur gets forced into a new vessel in this universe... the closest of which happens to be the unborn child abbeys unknowingly carrying. basically, what if the two kurs just LOOKED like they evaporated but actually did what happens when you try to like tape two same sides of a magnets together and they YEETED-

So thats how we have Parker, their firstborn daughter! and this... also implies ‘Parker Monday’ exists which. 8^) i havent thought about yet so forgive me on that but hoo, 

they dont know parker is kur, they got no idea and rly just assume kur is gone for good. but after they find out abbeys pregnant (which is a huge emotional trip for both of them in its own right) they do eventually sort of agree they dont want their kid exposed to that whole world of mystery. like, ik its a vital thing to the whole family, and ik these two people were probably voted least likely to ‘settle down’ in high school, but i cant imagine they didnt escape the kur/zak situation without a LOT of trauma, so while the saturdays stay in the cryptozoology field, doyle and abbey slowly pull away from the mystery and mercenary stuff, and also instead of going for big dollar lifestyle settle with ‘independently wealthy’ parenting.

also, neither of them really . grasp the concept that theyve even started a family, and are ‘together’, and that this is REAL, until around when she gets pregnant with their second daughter, Kendall. and then theyre like. oh nooo wait are we actually like boyfriend and girlfriend EWW-

when kendall is born parker is 3, and the next like 10+ years are pretty smooth sailing. as far as what the kids know/see, they probably know the cryptids when theyre little but. (tw animal death sORRY TO BE DARK I JUST??????) idk,, how long komodo dragons live/how old komodo already is and i definitely dont know Anything about giant prehistoric birds and am not even sure if science knows that lifespan, so. im not sure how long they could really be in each others lives??? i almost imagine parker would have memories of them that she assumes she remembers wrong, like “oh yeah they used to have a lizard and a bird... my imaginative little kid brain thought they were a komodo dragon and a dinosaur”, and as for fisk im still working on it but i . actually kind of imagine he might have a much longer lifespan (since lemurians are like ancient or w/e? and also if hes by dna like a gorilla cat or w/e gorillas at least live long af) and also feel like once he got older and settled down a bit he might live somewhere in the woods, maybe even his old tree? and the saturdays see him ALL the time obviously, but hey zaks gotta go to college eventually, a gorilla cats gotta eat bugs in forest, we all have to grow up and leave the nest sometime,

so idk the last time parker has actually seen fisk and she might assume he was an imaginary friend or smth but, 1. if i do write a fic they absolutely have to meet again, 2. overall the vibe is they know the saturdays are cryptozoologists, like, the same way josh gates does destination truth, seeking answers and studying, they dont really. know that theyre REAL. to them its like, a hypothetical science. (this is also part of why they dont realize parker is kur, she isnt around cryptids and therefore whenever her powers would actually show up they wouldnt be recognized) anyways parker isnt embarrassed or put off by it but just thinks its a little wacky, meanwhile kendall is obsessed with the world of mystery/paranormal/cryptic lol

speaking of the girls personalities;;;

parker is like. not really normie/preppy, even if she seems it at first glance, shes nice and has a good head on her shoulders but also is a teenage girl (inherently unhinged) and shes THEIR teenage girl (+5 feral) so despite her success and charm shes also very witty/crass when she wants to be, and deep down shes closer to the kind of person that would on pure inexplicable instinct put something random in your mouth when you’re yawning so you bite down on it afterwards. or like. that video of the girl singing in the bathroom while her friends curl their hair and she grabs the curler to use as a microphone before realizing its burning hot??? shes. the voice of reason, but the voice is usually shrieking in fear, making a cursed joke, or half the time whatever shes saying is actually smart. she kinda wants to go to college and travel, but struggles with indecisiveness and anxiety, so she has no idea where to go, what to major in, etc. and is again kinda just livin thru the typical teen life in that regard

kendall on the other hand is like. weird kid culture, the kind of kid that believes they are secretly a new supernatural creature each year (mermaid phase, werewolf phase, alien phase, etc), probably completely accidentally starts cults or witch covens at school (didnt realize teaching peers how to become ‘blood brothers’ and ‘make potions’ from puddles and stolen school supplies would be taken so seriously by parents) , very into emo/scene/punk/alt culture but not rly in an overtly dark/edgy way, more of a having fun and expressing self way. she wants answers for everything, really loves mysteries and being open minded, and definitely a rebel/adventurer at heart, even if she gets naive or in over her head sometimes.

the girls get along well! parker is not dismissive of kendall she just. isnt really into the same stuff/is more freaked out by it most of the time, but she would tag along on certain adventures, especially if it was to keep her safe. and kendall definitely directs gentle mockery towards parker a lot but does see her as a good role model and guiding figure, their bond is really strong!

other details !

doyle and abbey prob decide to say fuck it and get married after kendall is born, they probably have a few rough patches but nothing is more important to them than the kids now and in the end they understand each other better than anyone else so . canon tension idk her! family ftw! power couple! they intimidate the teacher during parent teacher conferences together hand in shady little hand !

their parenting style is exactly what one would imagine, 70% fun and sass and controlled chaos where theyre the bigger children than their children, 15% ‘this is how you hack the government and dual wield swords-- i was not supposed to teach you that im sorry’, and 15% actual guidance / emotional depth / etc. flaws might be overcoming their own immaturity for the first few years, and then being lowkey overly protective (while claiming they arent, but just bc you semi jokingly tell parker she should join the football team doesnt mean you dont actually hide 60% of ur life from her and check that her bedroom windows are locked every night and have 24 people listed in her school emergency contacts and used to cut up her food till she was 7 and-)

so abouT THE BABY BOY (Phoenix), 1. his middle name is leonidas bc im gay and i love emotional turmoil babes , 2. fully unironically the idea behind such a late pregnancy is abbey would be mid fourties when hes born right. so like. [has two kids] ‘ok birth control time’ [when theyre teens many years later] ‘ok im old enough to stop taking this’ [the hyperfertility curse that plagues many women rears its ugly head with one last hoo-rah]

and finALLY a very quick elevator pitch of what id write an actual fic to focus on;;; kendall sneaks into the attic to look for old shit bc they BOTH know their parents have been hiding stuff over the years, she finds things like a cryptopedia (now offline), the claw, maybe even a piece of the kur stone, and ropes parker into the long haul of figuring out what all this stuff is. and ofc the second they ever find the naga relic and parker comes face to face with it, [rest in rip] time for mom and dad to find out and all this kur shit to start ALL over again-

[eminentconscript-blog]

MEINIR: =After the one Strider kid's announcement about Orphus' whereabouts had reached her ears, it had taken no time at all questioning the locals and figuring out just where it was he happened to be hiding his cowardly flesh sack. Meinir and two of her crew had broken in through the loft window of Dennab's house when they were sure no one was there. It was a simple thing of combined climbs and jumps, and a few deft moments with a lockpick. The three of them sneaking inside and closing the window back up behind them, leaving no trace of their activities. Now Meinir was sitting square in the room, filing her nails with impatient flicks of her tail. The two ladies from her crew standing on either side of the door, back to the wall to keep out of Orphus' field of vision once he were to enter. The stage is set. The yellow bellied little brother will be caught once and for all.=

ORPHUS: -It was later in the day when he returned to Dennab's house. By now his friend had given him a key so it was easy enough to get in and out when he wasn't there, after all Dennab was usually gone and busy by this point. He had left in the middle of the night the day before to go see Taalay on skaia, and it went as well as expected possibly even better considering he was still in the same number of pieces as he was before he left. At this point he was just exhausted from the interaction and he slowly made his way to the guest room where he had been staying the last several weeks.-  ORPHUS: -He's hardly paying attention, rubbing at his tired eyes before removing his hood and opening the door. He gets about two steps into the room before he realizes he's not alone and his eyes fly open to settle on his sister sitting right there in front of him.- ................................... ORPHUS: -Hes so fucked, holy shit. His stomach starts churning and his chest feels tight with anxiety and he hasn't even seen the other two ladies behind him. Is it too late to quickly back out and retreat through the door way, he sure as hell is going to try anyways.-

MEINIR: =She doesn't lift her gaze as the door opens, blue eyes trained on her claws. Blowing on them and looking them over. It sure as hell is too late for Orphus to back out, because the large teal standing behind the door slammed it shut the moment he had stepped inside enough and placed herself in front of it. The psionic looming just in the corner of his vision, energy crackling between her horns. Meinir points at him with her nail file.= |)earest, sweetest little brother. How nice to see that you are still among the living.  MEINIR: \V/hy don't you take a seat? =There's a chair placed right opposite her. How convenient.=

ORPHUS: -Orphus's attention darts between the fellow teal blood and the psionic. This is a very less then ideal situation and there is no possible way for him to escape while surrounded like this.- ORPHUS: -His pulse is racing and he slowly drags his gaze back to his sister and swallows dryly.- Meinir...  ORPHUS: This.  ORPHUS: This is a <ivilian residen<e you should not be trespassing here. -He is not going to sit.-

MEINIR: =Looks up at him, legs crossed and tapping her file slowly against her knee. She's smiling, but everything about her is oozing agitation, like she is ready to leap at him at any moment.= | don't believe you are in any position to start lecturing me about, why, just about anything really! I'm honestly shocked you have the fuckin' nerve to try it right out the gate.  MEINIR: =Gestures to the psion with her file, then at Orphus, then at the chair.= /|/ow. Sit.  MEINIR: =Orphus will find himself surrounded with psionic energy, and will now be attempted lifted and snapped down onto the chair.=

ORPHUS: I am not trying to le<ture you I am telling you that you shouldnt be-- -He really has no way to fight off the psionics surrounding him and moving his body, struggle as he may hes lifted and then dropped into the chair. Of course the moment he is in it he is going to attempt to jump right back up. This is all very stressful for him.- This is redi<ulous!! <ease this!  ORPHUS: -Its hard to tell with the baggy sweatshirt on, but perhaps now that they are closer face to face Meinir might be able to see it in his face how he's lost more weight since they last saw each other.-

MEINIR: =Sorry Orphus, but the psion is definitely going to keep pressure on his shoulders to prevent him from jumping back up, and around his ankles to keep him "chained" to the chair. His commentary makes Meinir laugh, a big booming one, her head falling backwards. Her gaze firm and burning once she stops, pupils only tiny slits.= |Y|ou really have some gall to start making demands from me! I shall cease nothing! Maybe if you had kept your promise I would have given you a more gentle escort back to daddy, but we both very well know there's not a chance in hell of that happening now.  MEINIR: /|\aybe that's why you're squatting up in this shithole, huh? Too afraid of "big bad Meinir" coming to haul you back to face the goddamn music? You really had me with that story y'know! About how this was something you needed, and that you would really, really, keep in touch and let me know that you were still kicking.  MEINIR: \V/HAT A FUCKIN' JOKE!!!

ORPHUS: -His eyes go wide when she says her intentions of carting him back to their father, no, hes not ready for that he can't face his dad yet thats too much. His fear is momentarily forgotten though when she dares to insult his friend's dwelling.-  ORPHUS: It is not a shithole!! -He snarls in response, teeth bared and his volatile reaction a little over played but his entire system is on high alert, any reaction at all is going to be extreme.-

MEINIR: =Snorts.= |>lease. This entire planet smells of animal shit and mud. At least it is an upgrade from LOTAM, seein' as there ain't as many zealots high on fairydust fumes laying around in the street. MEINIR: |T|o think you'd rather spend your time in these hovels than go back home-- \V/hat are you so afraid of anyway? That you failed like, what, once? You're acting as if honor and pride is all that matters!  MEINIR: §o tell me then! \V/hat could you possibly hope to gain from squatting on one planet to the next, wallowing in your own self pity? Like. REALLY? How is THAT going to fix your wounded pride?

ORPHUS: -Growls.- I am aware it wont do anything to fix it. But it is my <hoi<e to live as I please. But tell me what do I even have to go ba<k to?? Even if I were to pro<ure a repla<ement limb who is to say I will ever regain the same use and skills that I had. And more importantly what do I have left with his <rew after I all but formally burned the bridge by abandoning them all in the first pla<e to fool heartily feed my own ego and ambitions by serving with another?? ORPHUS: I have embarrassed myself and my family name with my a<tions. Even if I had the smallest <han<e of rea<hing su<ess at home I've forever ruined it with my past a<tions. ORPHUS: I dont want to fa<e that.... ORPHUS: .......But I told you all of this the first time we met. You released me then, so you had to have some semblan<e of understanding.

MEINIR: ()h!!! Yes! I certainly did! I bought into all of this shit, hoping that you'd find your way and be honest to yourself and your fuckin' family! But WHOOPS!!! MEINIR: |3IG SURPRISE! Orphus is nothing but a COWARD. MEINIR: |Y|ou're not trying to fix anything, you're just running away. You don't even give your family the kindness to let them know you're alive. =Her knuckles are going white around the nailfile, and for a moment her expression twists, brows furrowing as her mouth twitches downwards. A split moment of something stinging at her eyes, a grief that she swallows down, her shoulders now squared.= | kept my promise you know. I did! Because FUCK ME if I didn't always believe you to be honest. I kept my bleedin' mouth shut the whole time, even as I saw how daddy was shutting down more for each day gone without a word!  MEINIR: |Y|ou're a fucking coward Orphus, one that cares more about your own ego than your family.  MEINIR: |)o you honestly think I-- that daddy or Taalay or any of us, are trying to haul you back to force you into somethin' you don't wanna do? To immediately force you back into something that cost you your arm? That's left you looking like-- Like you're not even yourself!  MEINIR: /|/obody GIVES A SHIT about what you did. We all just wanted to know that you were safe! That you're alive and that we would see you again! GOD!!! =She laughs, almost pathetically, looking down into her lap while the muscles in her arms tense.=  MEINIR: |)addy's crew kept muttering about holding a funeral, did you know that?

ORPHUS: -He is quiet over the duration of her short speech. In part because he knows she is absolutely right. He is a damn coward, a fool, a troll too full of himself that it blinded him until the consequences grew too large to come back from.- ORPHUS: -He's dropped his gaze to the floor, fighting back the lump in his throat and trying to ignore the pathetic way his eyes sting as teal colored tears hang at the very edges. It hurts even more to hear about his father, and the pain the rest of his family was put through because of his reckless actions. It had taken him months to understand he wasnt just hurting himself by running away but everyone else suffered for it too. But what could he even do to fix it now?- ORPHUS: .....No. I did not know that. -He sniffs.-

MEINIR: =It's probably a little awkward for the two other trolls in the room witnessing all of this, but they know to keep both their ears and mouths shut. Meinir's grip on the file eases, letting her fists loosen up on her knees. Taking a breath to steady herself.=  MEINIR: |'m taking you back Orphus, whether you like it or not. I'm not going to lie for you anymore, I can't do it. I can lie about a lot of things, more and better than most, but I'm not going to fuckin' play along with this shit anymore. I'm not gonna help you hurt our family, I can't do it.  MEINIR: |Y|ou're going to gather what little of your spine you have left, and you will see daddy, and you'll apologize for dropping off of the fuckin' starcharts. Just as I will for not telling him the truth about you.

ORPHUS: -He doesnt lift his head, he's not even straining against the psionic bonds anymore.-  ORPHUS: M-Meinir please.... dont.  ORPHUS: I-I cant f...fa<e him. -Fuck tears are starting to drip down his face. Orphus shuts his eyes tight to try to stop himself from full out crying but its too late.-

MEINIR: =Honestly, even angry as she is, it hurts seeing him cry. It hurts seeing him cry, hurts seeing him like this, and it hurts knowing that she fed into it when she could have just told everyone the truth. She wants to pinch his cheeks, hug him and say that it's okay! Stop the sniffling and let your sister take care of it! But she can't let herself do it. Keep hurting them all for the sake of a lie. Her voice is almost flat.= |f not now, then when? MEINIR:  /-\fter he's destroyed your mother's ships in his grieving fury? After he's held the funeral for his firstborn? All while I watch, knowing that you're alive, but sworn on my word to keep it secret while our family burns? I gave you time with the lie, Orphus, time that I hoped you'd use to build yourself back up. You can't ask me to give you more. Not this time.

ORPHUS: -He is a mess of snot and tears, its really pitiful to look at and Orphus would give anything to not appear so vulnerable in front of the other two trolls, its quite embarrassing. He didn't mean for things to get this way, for everything to go so far. But every time he thought about facing his problems it felt like the end of the world and so he grew comfortable pretending like he could just brush off his old life and live in the shadows without consequences. It was stupid of him to think he could have ever slowly acclimated to interacting with his family and loved ones again, especially after Joel broadcasted his whereabouts.-  ORPHUS: Im s-sorry I shouldn't have broken your promise I just-- ORPHUS: I didnt mean t-to hurt anyone else...

MEINIR: =She can't bring herself to cry, even if she feels like doing it alongside him. She doesn't really have any right to, having done what she did, or so she feels anyhow. Wearing masks is what she does, and now she is donning one to keep her eyes from watering. Her breathing is steady, her focus on every even inhale and exhale, a form of meditation to place her focus on that rather than her feelings. So she could say her words without emotions muddling them up. She straightens her back, looking right ahead at him.= | know. MEINIR: |'m not going to pretend you didn't truly have a horrible time, that this experience and your feelings are all invalid, but I still think you a coward for running away without a word for so long. This isn't helping you. The longer you run away, isolate yourself, pretend you're dead.... The worse you're just making it for yourself. If I'm not stopping it now, a hard stop, then I don't honestly think you'll ever stop running. =She stands up from her chair.= MEINIR: |Y|ou can hate me if you'd like, but we are going. =Not like he didn't hate her before though, hah...=

ORPHUS: -Hate is a strong word, but he will not correct her. Its not as though his actions or the way he has behaved towards her in their past would prove otherwise. And Meinir has a small point, even now Orphus still wanted to run and hide (perhaps it had something to do with the feeling of being currently trapped against his will but even so) could he ever trust himself to voluntarily go through with returning home? Possibly not...- ORPHUS: -Still, that did not mean he was thrilled about being delivered straight to his father, and while he had nothing more to say he slowly dried his tears gave one last ditched effort at trying to pull free of the invisible restraints holding him into the chair.-

MEINIR: =Having nothing more to say, and Orphus apparently having no words left either, Meinir gives a quick nod in direction of the psion. The yellowblood swiftly applies a sharp jabbing jolt against Orphus' pressure points, not enough to permanently damage, but certainly enough to make him pass out and slouch like a sack of potatoes. Perfect for transport. The teal hoists him over her shoulder, Meinir watching with an expression more blatantly sad and tired than any that had come before. She shakes it off with a sigh.=/-\islin, search the room for belongings and the like. We are taking it, and him, and we are leaving.  MEINIR: =The psion, Aislin, nods, making short process of searching the room with their psionics. Meinir, in the meantime, writes a note which she attatches to the chair via dagger. Polite enough to leave behind an explaination, as the room is left abandoned. The Wave Dancer leaves port only minutes after their boarding.=