#he’s built an adult life for himself he obviously doesn’t like he’s like a ghost he’s so disconnected

[concoulor]

charles is such a weird guy that seems normal when you first look I don’t really know what to make of him

[christ0pher-evans]

Shattered Heart

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader Warnings: Angst / Cheating / Mentions of Sex  Word Count: 1.9k 

A/N: I never usually write RPF angst fics, only fluff or smut, but I was drowning in many of my drafted smutty stories (not a bad thing) and I felt like I needed to clear my head with something different. I had this idea and Chris was the best fit. If you don’t feel comfortable reading RPF then please don’t! Based on ‘I love you’ by Billie Eilish. Please reblog and like🖤

 ♡

PRESENT DAY Laying in bed, wrapped tightly in Chris’ arms and listening to his soft snores over your shoulder was your confirmation that it was the weekend. Any other day you would be waking up alone, Chris already long gone and busy working. You shifted carefully before sliding out of his gentle grip, putting on your oversized jumper which was discarded on the floor from last night. 

Once you were downstairs and waiting for the pot of coffee to finish, your gaze lingered on the big garden to your home; the hammock that held a blanket from summer evening cuddles, Dodger’s toys flung carelessly from energetic play dates and the makeshift bar that you had built together for the parties you always hosted. All things that highlight the life that you and Chris had started together seven years ago. Smiling to yourself and caught in your memories, you didn’t even hear Chris coming down the stairs. You only realised his presence across the kitchen once you turned around. Taking him in quickly, you noticed a look of anguish fixed on his face. 

“It’s not true, tell me I’ve been lied to”

“Babe, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

Upon trying to approach him, to check he was alright, he hastily stepped away as if he was frightened from your touch. Looking away from you, he stayed silent. 

“Chris?”

Now, you were airing on the edge of nervous, genuinely worried something bad had happened but something was also telling you to stay put, to not move closer to him. You kept your distance, leaning against the breakfast bar for support against the unknown. 

“Y/N, I… I have to tell you something.” 

Sick rushed to your throat at the tone of his voice; coarse and frightened. You stayed quiet, too scared to ask him to continue. 

“Last night..” he took a deep breath, “last night, at the work dinner, before I came home; I kissed someone else.” 

Chris took another deep breath before he looked up. You were already looking at him, tears building in your eyes. Gripping the edge of the counter, you bit your lip and took a shaky breath, too afraid to do anything else incase you collapsed from the utter heartbreak washing over you. 

“Y/N, please say something.”

The sound of Chris speaking startled you, suddenly conscious of how long you’d been frozen, practically in suspended animation. Your ethereal bubble of love and adoration abruptly shattered, even the sound of his voice was making you shudder. 

Deep down, you were burning with rage, but your voice only came out as a whisper, “Tell me it’s not true, tell me you’re lying.”

You pleaded, praying and begging that this was some horrible practical joke that he wanted to play on you. 

“I - I’m not lying..”

“So, just to be clear, you went to a work dinner when you knew that I would be spending the fifth night in a row, in our home, eating alone-?” 

Chris went to interrupt but you weren’t finished. You were determined to get your point across before you crumbled. 

“-You went out and kissed someone that wasn’t me and then came home to me, sat and had wine with me and then made love to me but didn’t have the respect for me to tell me the truth the second you walked in the door last night?!” Staring at Chris, you felt the first tears drop onto your flushed cheeks. You didn’t mean to sound so harsh but when everything was fracturing around you, your emotions were the last thing you were trying to control. 

“Up all night on another red eye, I wish we never learned to fly” 

THREE YEARS AGO “Chris, I thought you said you were going to be home this week? It’s our four year anniversary!” You sighed into your wine as you sat eating dinner with him one Sunday evening. 

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry but they want to squeeze in a week of location shooting, it was a last minute decision.” 

You flicked the contents of your dinner round your plate, sad at the thought of another week at home alone. As an editor for a fashion magazine, you could do a lot of work from your home office therefore you’d already told your boss that you were working at home all week to spend time with Chris. In these situations you were so grateful to have an understanding and flexible job but frustrated to have such an in-demand and famous boyfriend. Sitting in silence with Chris, you couldn’t help but feel like this was another nail in the proverbial coffin that was your relationship. 

“Come with me!” Chris blurted out nervously. “You were working from home this week anyway, why not just work from London?” 

Your heart felt warm suddenly. The idea of spending a week in London with Chris was exciting and the sense of feeling wanted squashed your previous anxiety. 

“Of course I’ll come with you, if you want me there?” 

Chris leaned forward, reaching out and pulling your face to his, lips gently brushing against yours as he whispered, “There is nowhere that I could be in this world where I wouldn’t want you by my side, ever.” With that, he caught your lips in a bruising kiss. 

SIX MONTHS AGO “Chris..” you sigh, holding your phone away from your ear so he doesn’t hear the sob that escapes your lips. “I just don’t think that flying me halfway across the country will fix these problems!” 

You were exhausted with fighting a losing battle. You played with the loose tendrils of hair that had fallen around your face, waiting for his reply, wondering if he understood your hidden rejection of his offer. 

“Y/N, you can’t tell me that you want to see me and sort our problems out in person but moan when I offer a perfectly valid solution! I know I’m away a lot at the moment, but your job is so flexible, I don’t understand why you wouldn’t just come with me in the first place!” 

You involuntarily groan, irked by what Chris had thought was a perfectly acceptable compromise. He had missed the point completely. Flying from state to state, hell even country to country for the past six months just to get an iota of time with your husband was taxing, it was also forcing you to surrender your own life to follow his. All you wanted was for Chris to understand the sacrifice you’d been making. 

“Okay Chris, I’ll book my flights now. I’ll see you tomorrow.” You sighed, disconnecting the phone call and slamming your phone on the sofa in frustration. 

Reflecting back on the past few years, you felt ashamed at your naivety with Chris. You had taken everything with a pinch of salt because you could only imagine how difficult it was for Chris to uphold a relationship, let alone a marriage, with his career, so you were happy to make a small sacrifice if it resulted in spending time with Chris but now you realised, you were sacrificing everything for his happiness, not yours. 

“Cryin' isn’t like you” 

PRESENT DAY The words you had spoken hung over the room like a dark cloud. You knew you were being heinous before you’d given him a chance to explain but you were heartbroken. Your fingers skimmed your lips, disgusted that they’d entwined with Chris’s after he had kissed another woman, disgusted that they had begged him for release as you made love after he had kissed another woman. 

As you wiped your own tears from your eyes, you noticed tears spilling from Chris’s eyes. Your body went rigid - you had only seen Chris cry a handful of times. The feeling of sympathy and guilt should have been foreign to you in this situation but you felt pain from his misery. You could see the torment in his eyes, and you knew that he was angry with himself for hurting you; maybe, just maybe you could sort this out and salvage your marriage. 

“Shouldn’t I be the one that’s crying?” You tried to make light of the problem but recoiled at the distastefulness of your question. 

Moving to the now well-brewed pot of coffee, you poured two mugs before placing one at the other side of the breakfast bar for Chris, a symbolic waving of the white flag. You sat down, anxiously waiting to see if Chris would follow, hoping that you could sort this out like adults and maybe try to recover your trust and your marriage. That’s what you wanted, right?

“Maybe we should just try, to tell ourselves a good lie” 

You took the first sip of your second cup of coffee, still sitting in silence. You had been pondering with how to start the conversation but was admittedly hoping Chris would instigate it. Looking like that wasn’t going to happen, you tore off the bandaid and asked the question you had been dreading finding out the answer to. 

“So, can you start from the beginning and tell me what happened? I think I need to understand what transpired before we move forward.” You spoke calmly, channelling your nerves into picking at your nail varnish. Distracted by the chipped pattern on your nails, you were startled when Chris spoke up. 

“So, um, obviously you and me, we’ve been dealing with what feels like a long distance relationship; even though we live in the same house.” Chris paused from a moment, and you thought he was going to start crying again. You had to look down into your coffee, scared that if you started crying also, you wouldn’t stop. 

“Not that we haven’t handled that before, but this time it felt different, it felt worse. I know it’s not your fault Y/N and it’s not mine either, our jobs are so demanding but I was just feeling so alone.” 

Your heart was shattered at Chris’ confession. Knowing that you were both hurting from the same issue but keeping it to yourselves, it seemed absurd. 

“She was always there. I saw her every day at work, definitely for many more hours than I was seeing you each day, and she is nice. She became my friend and my comfort.”  

Now you felt like you’d been stabbed through the heart. Hearing Chris talk about another woman being everything you thought you were to him crushed you. How could you ever trust him again when he chose another woman to confide in?

“We get on really well, and um, whilst we were waiting outside the restaurant for our taxis, it just sort of.. happened.” 

The rest of the conversation passed by like a bad dream. Remembering snippets of trying to stay calm as Chris told you he made the first move, screaming at Chris when he told you he would still see her at work every day and crying into his shoulder when you admitted you wasn’t sure if this marriage  had a future. 

Chris had left hours ago to stay at a friends house to give you some space. You glanced at the tissues surrounding you - reminders of the tortuous day - as if you were looking for the answers among them. Wiping your puffy eyes for the final time, you waited for something, or someone, to make the decision for you. 

Now, it felt like the quiet at the end of a storm. Like your nightmare had come full circle. You sat in the same spot, alone. 

Part Two: Troubled Heart

[elexica]

Second Chance Christmas: {{ December 25 }}

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27832405/chapters/69387498

Christmas Day. *not the last chapter*

Merry Christmas y'all! Thank you for your readership, your comments, your kindness. It means so much to me. Last chapter will be up within 24 hours.

Full chapter after the read more.

Joey was rudely awakened by the thump of his entire son against his chest.  Aforementioned son was practically vibrating as he and his sister continued their complete attack, disrupting the significant quantity of pillows around.  The duvet was bouncing from the combined child-energy.

“It’s Christmaaaaaassss!!!” Atticus shouted before burying his head in a pillow.

Kaiba loomed in the doorway, sipping from a branded mug with a smug look on his face as Joey tried to calm the chaos that was Alexis jumping up and down on their bed.  Kaiba was already dressed for the day in yet another black turtleneck, and was completely devoid of any festive costume.

Shit, Joey thought.  Half the presents weren’t wrapped and should be on full display on his desk… None of them had been placed under the tree when he and Kaiba had gotten distracted and…

“Shall we see if Santa visited?” Kaiba offered.  Joey leveled a frustrated glare before his eyes managed to fix on the desk in the room which was… devoid of any trace.  The wrapping paper and remaining presents were gone.  Even the tape had been restored to its position in the caddy.

It was enough for Joey to believe, for a second, in Christmas magic.

The kids accepted their victory gracefully, scampering from the bed to the stairs and rushing down towards the stockings and the tree.

“Did you…” Joey asked, morning grogginess still sticking to him like sweet molasses.

Kaiba tossed Joey’s bathrobe onto the bed, and smirked into his mug as he stalked out.

The tree was illuminated and so thoroughly surrounded by presents, the kids couldn’t get within a three-foot radius of the base of the tree.  Still, like monsters, they ripped through the presents with alarming speed.  A hurricane of wrapping paper flew across the living room—with no regard for the delicate job of some of them, or the pretty fluffy bows affixed to the gifts.

“A yo-yo?!” Atticus announced, unwrapping a box containing a competition grade yo-yo.  Joey looked on in horror as Kaiba’s smile grew more devious.  “The string isn’t even on?!”

Atticus handed it to Joey, intuitively knowing that it wasn’t the sort of thing Kaiba was going to respond to.

Joey’s face blanched at the weight of the device in his hand.  Like everything else that had happened that week, it was intimately familiar, buried deep in the recesses of his memory, and slightly nausea-inducing.

It was a high quality yo-yo, matte jet black and from the feel of it in his hand, the ball bearings were perfectly aligned.  The crimson string was just waiting to be looped on, which Joey expertly did—carefully unwinding the twists enough to slip them over the yo-yo.  And then, balancing the yo-yo on the string, he rewound the yo-yo by sliding it along the thread.

In his mind, the process took forever, even if only a few seconds had passed.

“Thanks Dad!” Atticus chirped, retrieving the yo-yo from his hand to begin playing with it.

Joey slowly returned to the present, where Kaiba commented, “You should ask your dad to some you some tricks.”

Eventually they had shredded all of the wrappings and the kids were completely occupied with their gifts.  Alexis was tearing open the booster packs and struggling her way through the more complex words on some of the cards.  Atticus had his deck out, too, and he leaned over her shoulder and explained some of the text and card effects patiently.

Joey glanced over at Kaiba, who was smiling the same smile from Mokuba’s wedding photos.

“Remembering what it was like to be a big brother?”  Joey prodded.

Kaiba nodded.  “Things were rarely this peaceful, but when they were… I did not always know how to appreciate it.”

Joey reached a hand to Kaiba’s back and stroked over the soft cashmere of the black turtleneck reassuringly.  “I wish things had been different too.”  And Joey leaned his head onto Kaiba’s shoulder.  “But they’re pretty good right now, huh?”

Kaiba nodded, hair shifting against Joey’s.

Atticus fired up the latest model of the Duel Disk, and the hologram took over half of the room, consuming the Christmas tree and the better part of his sister, who screamed.

Kaiba and Joey were on their feet in an instant—Kaiba showing Atticus how to adjust the settings on the Duel Disk and Joey to rescue Alexis from the belly of a dragon.

. . .

As Kaiba flipped a chocolate chip pancake, he spared a quick glance to a shiny Rolex watch.  Another one of the treasures that Kaiba had left behind years ago, and Joey hadn’t had the nerve to mail back or pawn off.

“What time will your sister be coming by?”

The question was said in an innocent tone of voice, overshadowed by the sizzle of the pancake against the cast iron.  But Joey knew what it meant—the timer on their holiday magic was running low.

The snow of the snow globe was settling on the fantasy of a happy family.  Joey would have to either shake it up again or accept that time had sucked out the hope, like glitter and plastic pooling at the bottom.

Kaiba would do anything to avoid having to face Joey’s sister.  Even after moving to New York, Joey’s mother was not really a part of his life due to a mixture of built up resentment and a genuine lack of connection.  But Serenity was a frequent visitor, and a huge source of love and support—especially during and after the divorce.

As much as it bothered Joey, Kaiba was probably right to try to avoid her.  Serenity wasn’t very pleased with Kaiba after the divorce—or before it—and frankly it was a reasonable act of self-preservation to try and dodge. Joey considered lying, trapping Kaiba right there, letting Serenity lay into him.

Anything to make him stay a little longer.

But Joey had grown into an honest man, unfortunately for him, and he answered with the truth: “She gets off shift at noon.”

Kaiba nodded, plating up the pancakes.  There was something a little magic to seeing Kaiba in the apron, making breakfast.  Joey thought he might be getting used to the sight of Kaiba, surrounded by ingredients, carefully putting together meals.

Joey was inclined to agree with Mokuba, Kaiba was pretty good at the staples.  It’s hard to go wrong with chocolate chip pancakes, but sometimes the chips can get too burnt, and the chocolate chips can get stuck to the pan.

Atticus and Alexis seemed to share the sentiment, as Kaiba continued to flip pancakes for another forty-five minutes to make enough for the family.

Just as Kaiba sat down to his own pancake, his eyes darted away.

Kaiba had a preternatural sense for trouble, honed through the nonstop turmoil of his youth.  Like Spiderman’s extra-sensory perception, Kaiba stared at his untouched breakfast plate and immediately announced, “I’ve got to go,” popping up from the breakfast table.

He didn’t seem to have much packed up, other than a briefcase with his work laptop.  Joey wondered if he was going to keep leaving all of the other shit here.  The traces of Kaiba that the other man hadn’t managed to take back with him, the books, the whiskey, the scar cream, the turtlenecks…

Reminders that Kaiba was here, little touches of his ghost clinging to the bookcase, the end tables, the closets.  Just like dust, Kaiba had settled into the hard-to-reach crevices of his life.

Joey feigned ignorance.  “What?” he asked, “It’s still Christmas.”  As if he didn’t know that whatever magic they had between them had to disappear before another adult saw.  The great Seto Kaiba learning and growing?  No outsiders were allowed to see a travesty like that.

The man was already headed to the door, and Joey had to pursue him.  Serenity’s car was visible from the front hallway.  She had gotten off shift about a half an hour ago, and had made a beeline for the family home.

“As far as the children are concerned, the main events of the holiday have concluded.”  Kaiba pulled out the Mercedes keys.  He had obviously been thinking about his getaway.  The schemer.

“That doesn’t mean you have to go now,” Joey positioned himself between Kaiba and the door.

“Don’t.”  Kaiba said it like a warning, low and serious.  There was a note in his voice that was too harsh.

The entire week had felt like he had been rifling through different versions of Kaiba.  The savage man he used to know, the love of his life, the impermeable shadow who lurked in his study, the father of his kids.

Now, once again, Joey was facing the most intense version of Kaiba—determined, cornered, cruel.

“Come on, it doesn’t have to be, you can just…”  Joey didn’t know what to say, but he did spread his arms out, making a better barrier between his ex-husband and the exit.

Kaiba bowed his head, more threatening, more looming.  “I don’t know what this is, you don’t know what this is.  It’s not fair to the children to have us… so undetermined.  Unstable.  Whatever this armistice was, it was above all temporary.”

Joey was never that easily cowed.  “I don’t remember having that conversation?!” He spat back.

Kaiba stood taller again, reaching past Joey to undo the deadbolt.  “Can you, for once, not make this harder for me than it has to be?”

Joey hesitated.  Maybe Kaiba was right, maybe this was too unstable.  Maybe it just wasn’t fair to the kids.  Darting back and forth from a loving family to practically strangers.  From the soreness in his chest, the anxiety he felt at the thought that Kaiba would vanish from his life again—all that presence, gone in a flash—he knew it wasn’t fair to himself to play the game either.

“If you really want to go that bad, I won’t stop you,” Joey said, finally.

Kaiba passed by Serenity in the driveway.  She wished him a Merry Christmas but he just kept walking.  

. . .

“You did what?!” Serenity choked on her eggnog.  They were watching Atticus and Alexis duel in the snow, holograms bouncing and leaping through the wintry landscape.  The snowflakes disappeared as soon as the reached the holograms, hidden by the solidvision programming.

Joey remembered, somewhat, when Kaiba was first trying to get the software to play nice with foreign particles.  And Joey hated that he was impressed with the result.

“Look, he as here for a week and… he’s different.  I really think he, y’know, he got it.  He understood what he was missing,” Joey said, more into his own eggnog than to his sister.

She shook her head.  “I saw him, he didn’t seem all that different to me,” she paused to sip her eggnog.  “But that’s none of my business.”

“That was… he’s not great with…” Joey could hear himself, hear the excuses rolling off of his tongue.  He hated being in the position of defending the other man’s frustrating decisions and bad attitude.

She put her hand on his shoulder.  “I get it.  I’ve know him a long time, right?  I get that he can be… I don’t know, he has to be warmer with you, right?”

Joey nodded, realizing that tears were pooling in his eyes, the beautiful snowy backyard dissolving into a soft watery mess.

“But I also know he’s driving to the airport now.  And I highly doubt Seto Kaiba waits on the tarmac for long.  If you’ve got something to say to him, maybe you should get out there.  I can watch the kids.”

. . .

Joey flashed whatever fancy looking crap he found in the top drawer of Kaiba’s desk in the study to the airport security checkpoint.  He had no idea which ones went to what at the airport, but no one had stopped him when he had driven, perhaps recklessly, very close to the tarmac.  He only had to jump on fence to be on the asphalt—and it was never difficult to tell which plane belonged to his ex-husband.

No one else who parked their private jets at the Westchester airport had the same fondness for the Blue Eyes White Dragon, that was for sure.

Joey had never felt as insignificant as he did on the tarmac.  Even though Kaiba was only in the jet, the distance between them made him feel like Kaiba was already airborne, and he was the size of an ant—a speck in the map, a pixel.

“Hey.  I got something to say to you!” Joey shouted at the plane.  He assumed Kaiba couldn’t hear him, but the body language would have to be enough—waving his arms, clothed in his bathrobe, thick fabric flapping in the chilling wind.  From his peripheral vision, he could see the airport staff already streaming out to take the civilian off of the dangerous runway.

But instead the stairway descended, and the door opened.  Kaiba’s imposing silhouette cut a nerve-wracking shadow.  Joey was taken back to the days when the man would hang off of helicopter ladders and yell about card games.

“Jounouchi, it is not safe for you to stand in the tarmac!” The outline yelled back.

“Well, I got something to say to you!” Joey screamed over the sounds of another airplane taking off.

Kaiba descended a few steps, but not all the way.  He couldn’t be bothered to touch the same ground as Joey.  Kaiba extended a hand gracefully, wordlessly gesturing for Joey to continue.

“Do you wanna stay?”  Joey asked.  It was a simple question, honest, and more sincerely curious that even he had expected.

“I have work, Jounouchi,” Kaiba turned around and ascended again.

“What do you want?!” Joey yelled at his back.

Kaiba spun back, with a shocking amount of frustration pulling at his face.

“What do you want?” Kaiba shouted down with absolute vitriol.  

What did Joey want?  He wanted him to change, he’d said that in the past, and Kaiba had answered that he couldn’t.

And then he did.

Joey just wanted that—what Kaiba had already become.  All he had to do was say that, right?  Stay. That’s what he wanted.  And, keep trying. And, I want you to want to keep trying.  

But that would be giving in to Kaiba’s demands, right?  Letting him win, letting him off the hook.  All the shitty days, all the half-assed affection, all the last priority moves.  There was a little block there, a clot in the artery between his feelings and a reality that he could accept.  Kaiba never apologized, so he didn’t deserve forgiveness, did he?  Had Kaiba ever even figured out what he had done wrong?

The guards were closing in.

“I want you to apologize.”

If Kaiba could say he was sorry, Joey could say that he wanted him to stay.  To come back for real.

Kaiba looked at him, and all the anger that had made it to his face evaporated.  It melted away to his old mask—a casual disdain for everyone else in the world.

“I will not apologize for who I am.  You should know better than that.  Good bye, Jounouchi.”  He disappeared from Joey’s vision and returned to the cockpit.

Joey could have taken the five security guards, in his heyday.  But he found himself passively wandering back into the airport under their glares.

That wasn’t quite not what he wanted an apology for.  He didn’t need Kaiba to apologize for being a mess of a man, an impatient man, at times uncaring, frequently distant and harsh.  He just wanted Kaiba to apologize for the way he had made Joey feel, and for leaving without even trying.  For leaving again. For being so criminally unwilling to admit his own happiness, capitulate to his own fulfillment.

Really, Joey didn’t want much.  He just wanted enough that he could bear to drive Kaiba back home.

But, maybe Kaiba was right about himself.  Maybe he really didn’t change.  Not enough, maybe even not at all.

[dear-wormwoods]

Someone truly in the reddie tag saying Myra was not abusive and that she wasn’t like Sonia. Even saying Bev and Eddie don’t have similar arcs bc their abusive situations were entirely different and that people just reach to bend arguments in order to prove reddie. Biggest bs I have read in a while ahdhd

I’m assuming you are new to my blog, because uhh, I’m sorry to burst your bubble anon, but I am also someone who doesn’t consider Myra abusive. Idk what post you’re talking about specifically but I’d sure like to know what ‘proving reddie’ has to do with it, lol. But anyway, I have said before that I consider Eddie’s marriage to be toxic, but not abusive. These two people should not be married. And not just because Eddie is gay and doesn’t love her. Beyond that, they are definitely bad for each other. The entire marriage is a conduit for misery and deception. It’s a codependent circus of projection and enabling. It’s unhealthy as hell! But it isn’t abusive. And here’s why I think that: 

Stephen King wasn’t trying to make a point that Sonia and Myra are exactly the same. He was, however, making a point that when people enter into adulthood and adult relationships while carrying a bunch of baggage from trauma they never properly dealt with, the cycle will continue in one way or another (this is why Eddie and Bev are ‘parallel’ characters, not the surface-level abuse interpretation). Eddie suffered from emotional abuse for most of his life; Sonia was very calculating and intentional about it and made sure that she always held sway in Eddie’s life to suit her own needs. The result is that Eddie is a very inexperienced and sheltered adult who believes in all of the lies his mother told him. He tried to move out three times and failed each time. Sonia controlled him until the day she died. It’s all Eddie knows. So in his mid-thirties, alone in the world for the first time, he doesn’t know how to take care of himself and, more importantly, believes he can’t learn. Because of his history of abuse and control, Eddie can’t fathom taking the reins in his own life and instead seeks out someone who will take care of him the way he’s become accustomed to. 

So, Eddie meets Myra and latches onto her because she’s inexperienced and malleable, like him. She physically reminds him of his mother, so it’s easy for him to project onto her all of the abuse Sonia inflicted on him. And because that life was all he knew, it was also what made him feel comfortable, so he nudged Myra into the role he wanted her to fill - a replacement mom. He did this subconsciously at first, but he was able to recognize it before they got married… and then he decided to go through with it anyway. 

Eddie brought a lot of baggage into that relationship, baggage that Myra was most likely completely unaware of. Obviously he’s a repressed gay man, but that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Eddie doesn’t love Myra, but it’s not just because he’s gay, it’s also because he has created a maternal figure in her and, since he (rightfully) resents his mother, he also resents Myra. She conforms to that caretaker role and enables everything he’s learned from a life with Sonia, and he in turn enables her bad habits too. Enabling is toxic behavior, but it isn’t inherently abusive. 

But then, when he leaves to go back to Derry, it all comes to a head. She freaks out because as far as she knows, he’s very sick, and he’s leaving her without an explanation, this man who she is married to and financially dependent on. She has no idea how to communicate, so she resorts to panicky, emotionally manipulative attempts to get him to talk to her and stay. On the flipside, Eddie has no idea how to communicate with her either, so he withholds information, deflects, and snaps at her in moments of frustration. They both have irrational thoughts about hurting each other and they both do and say things that make the situation worse. They are both VERY bad at communication. Because they’re both grown adults with almost no relationship experience outside of each other and are therefore emotionally stunted. 

That whole chapter reads, to me, like “bad breakups 101″ - one person can’t articulate how they feel so they’re deflecting and coming off as cold, and the other person is so over the top emotional that they end up making no sense and coming off as hysterical. And it’s no wonder! If you make it to your late 30′s without ever having much of a social circle or relationship experience, you’re not going to know how to act in a situation like this. And this applies to both of them. If what Eddie says about her is true, this is probably the first time Myra has ever been left by a partner, and it’s happening suddenly and with no explanation. So, she’s hysterical and resorts to manipulation - not out of habit, but out of desperation (Eddie makes the distinction that this isn’t typical behavior for her!!). For Eddie’s part, this is the first major decision he’s made in probably his whole life, and he doesn’t know how to explain himself, so he just… decides not to. And because he does not love Myra, he is completely emotionally detached from her. Their individual reactions to the situation just make it worse for them both - Eddie shutting down makes Myra more hysterical, and her hysterics cause him to shut down more.

People like to cite a couple of damning quotes about Myra as proof that she’s exactly like Sonia, but making that argument requires you to actively ignore the damning quotes about Eddie. There are also quite a few quotes that highlight the differences between her and Sonia, things Eddie himself acknowledges, as well as quotes about the guilt he feels for knowingly projecting his own baggage onto this woman. (Note: see the posts linked at the end of this for a breakdown of all those quotes) The text makes it clear that this was never a happy marriage. Neither of them are better for being in each other’s lives. They don’t help each other become healthier people. Rather, they both actively enable each other’s toxic habits. The marriage is, in a lot of ways, a form of self-harm for Eddie, and he knows it - upon Sonia’s death, he exited the cage his mother built for him and then built a new cage for himself and threw the key at Myra’s feet. For her part, I believe Myra began as an unwitting enabler but ultimately realized that she gained a “purpose” from the relationship (being a caretaker, being “needed”) and subsequently turned a blind eye to all the ways it wasn’t actually a healthy marriage. 

This is such a long post already but I want to make it very clear that Eddie’s cycle of abuse continuing does not actually require Myra herself to be abusive - rather, it is Eddie’s projection onto her that exacerbates the toxic environment. It’s the ghost of Sonia that haunts him in that chapter and throughout the rest of the novel. Myra is not a villain in Eddie’s life - he hardly even thinks about her after he leaves. This is one of the main points that make Eddie and Bev’s parallel arcs different - Bev very clearly has a secondary villain in her life, Tom, and she gets the closure of him dying in the end. But Eddie doesn’t need closure about his marriage, because Myra is just an extension of what Sonia did to him. 

The one time he does think of her unprompted is during his walking tour, and it’s such a great example of what his marriage actually means for him: when faced with the leper offering him a blowjob and other IT manifestations, he wishes he was home with Myra. He doesn’t think of her badly - he’s not afraid of her in any way. But she represents his comfort zone. IT is forcing him to confront things like his repressed sexuality, and he decidedly does not want to do that. That’s the only moment he “misses” Myra. But he doesn’t actually miss Myra. He misses the way her enabling allowed him to escape from having to face himself. And that’s really what it comes down to - Eddie’s marriage is toxic because it’s an escape, a way for him to avoid having to grow as a person and face the hard realities of who he is and what his mother has done to him. Myra isn’t evil, she’s not a calculating abuser like Sonia was, but she is toxic because her very presence prevents Eddie from reaching his full potential and being happy. 

Sonia’s abuse permeates Eddie’s entire life, even well after her death. Her actions dictate how he sees himself, as well as how he acts in relationships. Sonia is the reason Eddie’s marriage is the way it is. Hell, Sonia is the reason Eddie’s marriage exists in the first place. It is Sonia’s ghost that continues to manipulate him throughout the book and it is Sonia’s voice he needs to overcome in the end. If Myra were truly abusive, she would matter more in the overarching narrative of Eddie’s trip to Derry. But she doesn’t matter and because of that, she’s never really given a personality or motivations. She’s truly a blank canvas for Eddie to project his issues onto, and then he simultaneously berates himself for projecting and resents her for existing within his projections. Through all of this, everything always comes back to Sonia. Due to the vast disparity between their respective levels of influence, placing Myra on equal footing with Sonia is, in my opinion, a form of downplaying how bad Sonia truly was. 

Finally, and it’s wild that this even needs to be said, people need to recognize that saying ‘Myra isn’t abusive’ is NOT the same thing as saying she did nothing wrong. Myra was an enabler and that’s not okay, whether she meant to be or not. She also had moments of manipulation, terrible communication skills and poor emotional regulation. She was a toxic presence in Eddie’s life. Saying she isn’t abusive doesn’t mean I’m excusing her actions. But it’s also important to recognize that the chapter in which she appears has a lot more nuance to it than some people realize, and it’s necessary to hold Eddie accountable for his part in making that night so difficult. On that note, holding Eddie accountable and recognizing his harmful moments is not the same as calling him abusive either (fsr that’s become some kind of urban legend, but literally no one ever said he was! ever!!). There does not always have to be an abuser and a victim - sometimes bad relationships are just… bad.

Eddie is obviously a lot more sympathetic than Myra because we know about his past and get his POV. We know that he’s a good person. We also know that Sonia is the root of all of his issues. But the fact is, he has some shitty moments in that chapter, just as Myra does! His past experiences are not an excuse for that, they’re just an explanation. And, because I know there are people out there who equate accountability with victim blaming, being able to recognize where Eddie went wrong and why he entered into this marriage to begin with is NOT the same as saying he deserved any of his misery. There’s a huge, huge difference between accountability and blame. Holding people, even fictional characters, accountable is a good thing. In the end, Eddie is a very damaged person - an inherently good person, to be sure, but sometimes damaged people who are inherently good can, and often do, create, foster, and contribute to unhealthy relationships. It can’t all be unquestioningly pinned on Myra. 

Anyway, if after all of that you’re still confused as to why some people choose not to use the abuse label, here’s some additional reading:

An amazing breakdown of the entire chapter, using quotes, by @tossertozier

A more recent & shorter breakdown using quotes by @richietozierhateblog 

[purplebunniboy]

Retrograde AU

Can I summarize this,,,let’s find out. This has been a rough WIP since 2016. Boy has it been a Process.

Before I start let me just state for the record that this is an AU it exists in it’s own universe and ties in aspects of both books and games as well as headcanons that I Know not everybody will agree with! Hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

Warnings before reading: This AU does contain spoilers for the book trilogy, there are some heavy and dark themes mostly involving physical and emotional abuse as well as blood and gore.

This AU is split into 2 parts: pre-scooped and post-scooped. The first is his childhood and early adult life where he is known as Michael Afton leading up to when he got his insides scooped out. The second half is an older adult, when he got a whopping load of amnesia immediately after being scooped and is known as Mike Schmidt.

Pre-scooped:

Michael grew up in the same town Fredbear’s is located in, a few miles out of Hurricane (same place Charlie lived in the books.)

Michael is the older brother from the 4th game’s minigames. The younger brother/ crying child is Cassidy Afton. Cassidy witnessed Charlie’s murder and was absolutely traumatized but no one would believe him. William was really the cause of the bite, needing the kid to keep quiet about the whole thing, but staged it to be an accident to shift the blame on to someone else.

There is 2 seperate bites, Cassidy being the Bite of ‘83 victim. Michael was still the accidental cause of both.

His friend group consisted of the bullies from the 4th game--Bear mask kid is Michelle/Mitchie, bunny mask kid is David/Davie, chicken mask kid is Christopher/Chris. Some basics about them:

Mitchie is a girl, though a total tomboy, and is strong enough that the others know not to mess with her. She has a superiority complex, always feeling like she Has to prove she’s the best. She has a younger brother.

Davie is the bigger kid and designated meat shield of the group. He doesn’t put himself in bad situations but the group tends to throw him into them anyway. 

Chris is a bit of a runt but like to run his mouth a lot. He’s the type to always feel the need to put his two cents in even if it adds nothing to the conversation and is mostly just him being a sassy smartass.

Michael is of course the kid always picking fights. He’ll throw the first punch at the drop of a hat and almost always sports a bruise or a cut somewhere on his face. Some have even turned into scars.

When he was especially younger, Michael got along really well with his dad, drawing up doodles of characters that would eventually become the Funtimes, and always claiming he wanted to be just like him. William would often bring him into the workshop and teach him the basics of how animatronics work, carefully avoiding the subject of springlocks altogether. Obviously as he grew older, he realized his dad was a major ass and grew distant and hateful of him, taking his anger out on those around him rather than actually deal with the problems. 

Michael built his fox mask himself and included a few added feature such as moving/turning ears and fancy lights. His friends demanded he make them some as well to which he happily obliged. 

The Afton and Emily families were good friends! This was before, you know, William decided to remove Charlie’s alive rights. There were nights where all the parents would go out and Michael would get stuck with babysitting all of them at once and chaos ensued. Charlie, Sammy, and Elizabeth were the same age but Elizabeth was a bit of a brat so she didn’t get along very well with them. Charlie and Cassidy, despite age difference were good friends. Charlie and Sammy were a tag team and rarely did you ever see the two of them apart from the other.

After the accident and Cassidy’s death, everyone turned away from Michael except Elizabeth, who Michael swore he would be a better brother for. He continued developing his robotics skills by building her little toys just like Henry did for Charlie. Though unlike Henry’s, the toys were in no way technologically advanced and the most impressive thing he could do was add a wind up music box in them.

William finds old drawing of Michael’s and uses them as inspiration for the Funtime Animatronics which of course eventually lead to the accident with Elizabeth.

After so many years it finally comes together that Michael realizes his dad is actually a psycho murderer. He runs away, trying to figure out ways to set the spirits free. As he travels, continually changing his name, he does eventually find Henry and enlists his help. He is ultimately unsuccessful as he follow the trail into Circus Baby’s and is eventually scooped.

Jeremy Fitzgerald also has a minimal part in this AU. He and Michael met in early adulthood, he eventually tries to help Michael in his task to help set the children free. They go to what is the fnaf 2 location in an attempt to put them all back together but something goes terribly wrong and Jeremy is the unfortunate victim of the bite of ‘87 and loses his frontal lobe in the process. He is the same Jeremy from the VR games.

It is William and his manipulative tactics that convince Michael to go into the underground in the first place, knowing that his sister will be there. With the promise that he can find her and the others and put them all back together.

Post-scooped:

Immediately after the events of the underground, he’s visited by Cassidy’s ghost who warns him he’s going to forget and tells him to “come find him when he remembers.” He wakes up in Hurricane with barely any memories. He’s told his name is Mike Schmidt, as stated by records found mostly in his car. Clay Burke takes him under his wing and helps get him back on his feet, basically becoming like a father figure to him. It’s through this interaction that Mike meets Carlton and becomes part of that whole group.

While the main events of the books did not happen, the friend group is still there and there are certain elements that remain the same. The group is obvi older than they were in the original canon source. 

Henry still moved to Hurricane and built the four closets but instead of offing himself, he saw them to completion, dropped them on Aunt Jen, then disappeared without a trace. So it is still the same that Charlie “moved away” and the group stayed connected through letters they sent back and forth (Though mostly it had been Aunt Jen writing them.)

Instead of Charlie coming back for the funeral type celebration like in The Silver Eyes, she went back specifically to reconnect with friends to see them graduate. As they got older, letters turned to email and live chat rooms. Charlie still went with Jessica to college and the two continue to live together. Charlie has a degree in robotics and programming, Jessica has a degree in anthropology. Charlie and John maintain a long distance relationship as he lives and works out of state. Carlton also left town for college, got his degree in performing arts and moved back to Hurricane. Marla is happily married but still keeps up communication with the others and visits occasionally. 

There is a separation between alive robot Charlie and dead child Charlotte, since The Puppet is still a present figure. Charlie is content with the fact that she is actually a robot, having discovered that years ago. John is the only other one who knows.

Mike and Carlton have a thing going on. 

Mike works at Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza as is shown game 1. He works there not only out of desperation but because he feels a connection to the building and wants desperately to know about his past.

He found Springtrap in the back saferoom and since then, the rabbit does not leave him alone. He acts as Mike’s helper buddy, assisting in keep the animatronics away for the most part. He is completely silent though if you were to listen really really close you might hear motors running, a fan or two kicking on, and raspy breathing. 

Helpy is another helper to Mike but is more of a portable buddy rather than a work only buddy. He found the little bear as barely more than scraps in a trash heap, took him home and enlisted Charlie’s help in building him into the lovable little pink and white robot.

Most dreams/nightmares Mike has have to do with reliving past memories though generally he doesn’t remember what they were about once he’s awake. When he’s at the pizzeria he sometimes sees the spirits of the children who help lead him to clues about his missing memories. What would seem like hallucinations to most people, are actually clues from the spirits. But Springtrap tends to chase off any that appear when he is also there. 

Will hopefully post designs of the characters soon! And I’m in the process of writing an actual coherent story for this.

[chasseurdeloup-retired]

Mime & Dine || Oscar, Regan & Kaden (ft. Rumplskuffs)

TIMING: Current LOCATION: Kaden’s apartment PARTIES: @kadavernagh, @forfuchssake, and @chasseurdeloup SUMMARY: Two hunters and a fae sit down for dinner

It was a lot slower going around the kitchen while he was still injured, but Kaden was determined to make this meal the best he possibly could. Not that he needed to impress anyone he was cooking for tonight, Regan and Oscar were both aware that he didn’t suck. No, the effort wasn’t out of pride so much as a means to keep his mind off of the situation at hand. His uncle was coming to dinner to meet his girlfriend. Which was weird enough as it was. Kaden had a girlfriend for one. Two, it was serious enough to bother meeting family. And three, Oscar was in the same town as him. These three things had never once happened in succession. So this was already strange. The fact that he was dating a fae and that his uncle was a hunter did nothing to simplify the matter. Lucky him. It meant he was making a three course meal because if he was cooking it meant he wasn’t panicking. At least that’s what he was telling himself.

Abel barked to alert him to the rap on the door and Kaden quickly put aside what he could, pulse pounding through him at the thought of what was next. “Necklace!” he called out to Regan as he went to get the door, just in case she didn’t already have it on or forgot or who knew. It was second nature to have her around without it on at this point. But the last thing he needed Oscar to see was the wings. He swallowed down the fear creeping up his throat and placed his slightly shaky palm to the doorknob, swinging it open. He’d chalk up the unsteadiness to his injury. Even if that wasn’t quite the reality of the situation. “Hey, come in. Still have a bit to finish up before we can eat,” he said to Oscar as he led him inside, Abel pushing past to greet the other man. “You already know Abel. And, uh, this is Regan.” He gestured back towards his girlfriend who seemed almost as nervous as he felt. Almost. “You, uh, should talk. Or something. While I--” A beeping started coming from the kitchen. “Soon, it’ll be done soon.” He ran off to the safety of the kitchen to finish off what was left of the meal. Putain, maybe he should have started prepping earlier, it was an idiotic idea to leave the hunter alone with a banshee. Kaden had a feeling he wouldn’t be eating a lot tonight. Not if his stomach kept churning like this.

“So you see,” Regan explained to Abel, as the two of them were sprawled out on the couch, “that’s why both humans and canines can get salmonellosis.” He seemed attentive, but the only response she was met with was panting. They could work on that. Then again, she was about ready to start panting, too -- the smells drifting over from the kitchen warmed her as they filled her up. Kaden wouldn’t tell her what he was making, wouldn’t even let her help, but Regan trusted that even in his injured state, he was still the best French cook in town. Plus, it was good for him to handle his stress in a healthy way. She wasn’t sure how to handle her own. Oscar meant so much to Kaden, was really all he had left in this world for family, and even knowing his opinions on people with wings -- ridiculous -- she still desperately wanted to meet him. Abel suddenly leaped off the couch and zoomed toward the door. Necklace! Kaden’s panicked shout sounded from the kitchen, and Regan bolted up. It was so easy to forget she wasn’t even wearing it these days. Even Kaden didn’t seem to mind. She plucked it from the bowl in the middle of the table and clasped it on, then slipped into a cardigan to hide the long slits in the back of her shirt, too. Those would probably raise a brow. There was a lot riding on her ability to hide her symptoms -- not just Oscar’s inevitable poor reaction, but more importantly, his relationship with Kaden.

She followed Kaden over to the door, observing his shaking hands and the nervous flitting of his eyes toward her back. Her own anxiety was spiking, knowing how much was on the line, but Kaden’s was definitely worse. Regan slid her arms around him, careful to avoid the healing gunshot wound, and pressed her lips to his warm cheek. “Kaden, it’ll be-- there’s no way he’d know. I mean, with the necklace. Nothing’s going to go wrong. No wings, no mimes, just a normal dinner with delicious food and a mountain of anxiety.” That didn’t seem to make things better as he opened the door.

Oscar was… well, he was older than Kaden, but not by the huge margin Regan had expected. He had a weathered look to him, punctuated by a dry, easy smile. Her eyes searched for features shared with Kaden, before she remembered that the two of them weren’t actually blood relatives. Her stomach plummeted as Kaden motioned toward her in introduction, and then he took off, called back by the kitchen. The words of comfort she had for Kaden just a few seconds ago dried up in her mouth, as she realized it was just the two of them right now. She extended a hand, but immediately thought better of it, remembering her cold skin. “I, uh -- it’s really nice to -- I’m Regan. Like he just said. You know that. Obviously. It’s not like Kaden has a bunch of random women living with him, so that’s probably -- oh, uh, not that I live with him. We each have our own apartment. Separately. Though he’s staying with me right now while he heals; he was just insistent on using his own kitchen for this, so we -- he was badly hurt, you know. He was in the hospital...” Kaden, please come back. She shot a pleading look toward the kitchen. No salvation came. “Oh! He’s okay now, though. Well, mostly. Well enough to be doing this. I’m a doctor, so I’ve been making sure he doesn’t over-exert himself, and -- and sorry, I talk a lot when I’m nervous. Or sometimes not at all. But Kaden suggested we talk, so that’s -- it’s nice to meet you.”

Oscar had to admit that being in the same town as Kaden again felt nice. As an only child with no children himself, it wasn’t as if he had much outside the hunter community. Plus, this town had no shortage of beasts to kill. Most of his recent hunts had been hedgehounds and bonedoggles, but it was only a matter of time before a more exciting fight came into play. It was no wonder Kaden chose to call this place home. Hell, he was essentially even getting paid to hunt in a very official capacity. He was proud of the life his nephew had built for himself here. While it was a little too on the up and up for his liking, it was good to see him doing well for himself. He was looking forward to meeting this Regan that he seemed so sweet on. It was a surprise to see him settling down to this extent, but as long as he wasn’t shirking his duty, the kid deserved a little happiness.

He opted to wear a sweater rather than his usual leather jacket. No need to have Kaden’s lady friend making unsavory assumptions about him. Oscar knew they were all likely to be true, but making a good impression all around was probably important to Kaden. He’d brought a case of beer along with him. As he knocked on the door, he heard Abel alert everyone of his presence. The fact both Kaden and Regan seemed a bit nervous wasn’t lost on Oscar. “No worries,” he assured as he made his way inside, “I’m sure your lady and I can find something to talk about while you finish cooking.” He handed off the case of beer he brought before Kaden ran off to follow the timer that was going off. He shook his head and let out a small chuckle. “It’s good to meet you, Regan.”

Before he could get another word in, she seemed to be rambling at a million miles a minute. Apparently they didn’t live together, not that Oscar would care if they were. They were both adults after all. Hell, she’d probably be safer having Kaden around, especially considering there was a ghost trying to kill both of them. He placed his hands up and laughed a bit as he responded, “Immer sachte, even if you two did live together, I wouldn’t care. Not that it matters what I think. It’s Kaden’s life. If having you around makes him happy, then I’m happy for him.” He still couldn’t quite understand it, being in a relationship with a human who didn’t know about the supernatural, but it was obvious they cared for each other. “I’m glad he has a medical professional taking care of him though,” he added though he wondered how she didn’t question the speed at which his wounds healed. He walked over to the couch with Abel following close behind and took a seat. “So, tell me a bit about yourself, Regan. I know that you’re a medical examiner and apparently entirely too smart for Kaden here, but not much else.”

Kaden couldn’t tell if the sweat on his brow was coming from the warm kitchen or from everything else. What were they saying over there? Had he seen the wings? Somehow? Through the glamour of the necklace? Putain, he’d definitely seen the wings and was probably about to stab her right now. Then he heard her rambling all the way from the kitchen. He stood up straight and inhaled deeply. This was fine. It would be fine. Hell, he thought she was human for months. Oscar couldn’t possibly figure it out in one night.

Right. Kaden swallowed back the panic. Or was it finally bile? He wasn’t sure. Still he raced around the kitchen, trying to work as fast as possible. What if she shook his hand? Putain de merde, he’d know, he’d figured it out, maybe he already had. Kaden poked his head out of the kitchen briefly. They were just standing and talking. He rushed back in as soon as he remembered he had to take the fucking food off the stove top. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Breathe. He had to breathe.

Kaden held that breath, expanding his lungs and waiting, trying to force his pulse back to something normal. Alright. The food only needed a minute longer to cool off and he could plate it. Nothing more for him to do in the kitchen. Probably good. As much as he wanted to run away from the situation, leaving the two of them alone seemed far worse. He grabbed a beer for Oscar, pouring it into a stout glass. He grabbed the wine and poured out a glass for Regan. And for a moment he stood there and contemplated which he wanted for himself. The beer Oscar had brought was a good one, he expected nothing less from his uncle, it was a good dark stout and was no doubt enjoyable. The wine he’d bought for the meal was perfectly balanced, just right for the coq au vin he was preparing and about to serve. Oscar wouldn’t poke fun at him for picking the wine, right? Putain. He was sure he’d enjoy both, but he didn’t know how to pick. Practically speaking, the bottle was open now. So wine it was for him. He couldn’t exactly waste any more time hiding away, he needed to intervene.

“I was gone for a minute and already talking shit about me, I see,” Kaden said to Oscar, carrying the drinks over as best he could, handing the beer to the other hunter and one of the wine glasses to Regan. “You’re not wrong though.” He stood close to Regan and took an awkward sip from his glass, not sure what to say next or how this was supposed to go. “We can sit soon. Or you should. I’ll get the food in a minute. It just needs to cool off a little.” It would be great if the tension he felt could cool down, too.  

Oscar wanted to know about her. Beyond her job. This already felt like navigating a mimefield. Er, minefield. “No, no, we can’t live together,” Regan insisted. Then realized why she shouldn’t say that. It would raise questions. “Uh, I mean because… I barely sleep. You know, rising early to go for a run and then spending evening hours at the morgue. Oh, but you asked about me outside of work. Wait, did Kaden say that? I’m not-- I’m lucky to have him.” She felt the blood rising to her cheeks, and scurried behind Oscar over to the couch. She stayed standing, nervous about inching too close. There was no way he’d be able to tell, right? She hadn’t shook his hand. He couldn’t hear her pulse from here, surely. And even if he had done or was capable of those things, what was to say that he’d even put two-and-two together? Her condition was incredibly rare -- so rare that Regan had never heard of a medical professional who knew about it.

“Well, I… I’m from Augusta. It’s a few hours from here. J'apprends le français. Kaden is teaching me, of course. And, don’t worry. The first word I picked up was putain.” Regan leaned flat against the wall, observing Oscar’s comfort level with Abel. The two were well-acquainted. “I have brothers. One in Augusta, and one near Boston.” Though her relationship with both of them ranged from complicated to non-existent, given recent events. “No pets, but I was recently reunited with my childhood coyote skeleton. Is that, uh, sufficient?”

Thankfully, Kaden came fumbling back into the room, smelling like warm food and looking like he’d gone for a cycle through a washing machine. He thought-- “What? No, we weren’t-- right, joke.” Normally even she would realize that right away. This was tense. Regan shook her hands out in front of her like it could relieve some of the situation’s gravity, and she sidled closer to Kaden. “Are you doing okay?” She whispered, trying to catch a moment when Oscar was preoccupied. “We’re fine, Kaden. Really. Just…” She noticed what he was holding. Well, she’d noted the wine glasses before. But realized they were glass as he pushed one of them into her hands. Regan’s eyes flicked between the glass and Kaden, as she tried to communicate her worry.

The wine glass in her hand felt dangerous. Even on a good day, bringing one to her lips or holding one felt like tempting fate. Today, her nerves were relentless. Meeting your significant other’s closest relative did that, she supposed. And according to Kaden, Oscar happened to be a bigot. Who would hate her if he knew about the wings on her back. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to file that away somewhere, never to revisit it, or if she wanted to cling onto that fact, unable to fully see Oscar as the good, kind, loving person Kaden had always known him to be. Regan gulped down a breath and treaded carefully into the kitchen. Without any commentary, she quietly swapped her wine glass out for a plastic one. Fortunately, Kaden started keeping some non-glass options. Regan wasn’t sure exactly when he’d bought them, but she suspected it was after she’d blown up his entire alcohol cabinet. Dinner smelled close to done, and when she turned around, she saw Kaden and Oscar had followed her. “So, um, do you want to fill us in on what you’re making, Kaden?” She turned to Oscar, setting her new glass on the table to hopefully divert some attention from it. “I assume you know about Kaden’s proclivity for making incredible food. Desserts, especially.” One of the things Kaden took from his mother, which left Regan wondering… just how much did Oscar know about his parents?

It was a bit confusing as Regan explained why they couldn’t live together, but Oscar shrugged it off. Whether or not they were ready to live together was entirely on them though he imagined it’d be difficult for Kaden to explain nightly patrols, especially on the nights surrounding the full moon. It was for the better, not that it was truly his place to say. “No need to explain yourself, but I’ll say it’s admirable how dedicated you are to your work. He did, but I think you’re probably right. You’re both lucky to have each other.” He mostly believed it though he had a hard time wrapping his mind around having an honest to god relationship with someone clueless about the supernatural. Kaden had to be free to make his own choices though he could practically hear Lauren chiding him about legacies of all things.

Oscar let out a hearty laugh as Kaden returned from the kitchen and handed a beer over to him. While he’d hardly call it talking shit, it was always a good time to poke a little fun. “Now, now, I’m just using your words, Junge, though the more she talks the more I’m inclined to agree,” he joked. He took a refreshing sip of his beer and focused his attention back to Regan as Kaden put the finishing touches on their meals. He hadn’t heard of Augusta, but he did chuckle at the mention of the first French word she had learned being putain. Not surprising coming from Kaden. “Ah, putain de merde, I see someone still has a foul mouth. I can assure you he didn’t get that from me. Le français est une belle langue mais l'allemand est meilleur,” he responded before adding, “A coyote skeleton, huh? I take it you’ve loved biology from a young age then?” A bit strange, but not entirely concerning on its own.

Something was off though Oscar couldn’t quite place it. Both Kaden and Regan seemed apprehensive and he couldn’t understand why. Sure, he’d given Kaden a hard time about settling down with a nice lady, but they had to know he’d only been joking, right? Maybe he’d have a talk with Kaden later though he hated serious conversations.  For now, he’d do his best to lighten the mood as he followed Regan and Kaden over to the table. “Kaden’s always been a good cook. That part he definitely didn’t get from me though I can make a great bratwurst.” There still seemed to be an air of tension, so he went along and agreed, “Please do fill us in. Everything smells great. I know your papa would be proud.”

“That’s bullshit,” Kaden shot back with an easy laugh. “I’m pretty sure I learned every curse word I know from you. In three languages no less.” He shook his head a bit before taking a sip of his wine. With the way Regan was holding the glass like it was a grenade, he wondered if he’d made the wrong choice. Should he have gone with beer for all of them instead? No that seemed wrong. Still, he couldn’t figure it out.

In the brief moment Oscar turned away to give Abel some of the attention he was begging for from any of the humans in the room, he gave Regan’s free hand a squeeze. “I’m alright. I’m fine. It’s--” Kaden tried to keep his voice at a whisper but it was hard to manage with them spilling out a mile a minute. His words trailed off as he followed her line of sight to the glass, his brow knitting together as he focused on the stemare. What was the issue? Did she not want wine? Should he have gotten something different? His eyes flitted back to hers, still narrowed in confusion and missing whatever very obvious hint she was clearly trying to send him. Nope, still didn’t get it. “Did you want something different?” As soon as the words left his mouth it hit him.

Putain, he was an idiot. The glass. Guess he wasn’t lying when he said she was too smart for him. Before Kaden could figure out what the hell to do with the glass, any of it, all of it, Oscar had stopped petting the dog and looked back at them. Well, fuck. That was it, this was doomed. He should make them both leave now, that’d solve the issue. Thankfully Regan slipped away into the kitchen, likely to make a swap. Okay good. He could do this.

“Must not have poured enough,” he said with an attempt at a small chuckle. Kaden looked over at Oscar, hoping to catch his eye, ask him without words if he approved or-- well, merde, he didn’t know what he was asking, really. Some sign this was all going okay? He rubbed the back of his neck, not sure what he was even meant to do in this scenario. There was some solace in the fact that he was confident that Oscar was just as lost as he was muddling through this. “You like her so far?” he asked once Regan was out of earshot. For someone who spent a lot of his time touting how little he cared about what others thought of him, Kaden was pretty concerned about what his uncle thought of his life. At least he did now, when it was looking like the path he was carving was different than the one his uncle took. Not that he ever expected that to be the case.

Regan headed to the table and Kaden figured it was about time to get the food ready. “You sit down, I’ll bring out the food,” he said as he branched away towards the kitchen to grab the plates, bringing the dishes out one by one. Quickly. The less time they were left alone, the better, right? “So tonight we have coq au vin served with rosemary roasted potatoes and green beans blanched with a dijon vinaigrette on the side,” he said, placing the plates in front of them.

“And of course, a tarte tatin for dessert,” he added, flashing Regan a quick smile as he took his seat, finally. “I considered making a soup course to start with but I, uh,” Didn’t want to extend the evening any longer than he had to. “Well, I think I went overboard as it is so bon appétit.”

His stomach was twisted in a complicated web of knots. It was all Kaden could manage to pick at the food in front of him that he spent so many hours creating. But pick away he did, his eyes barely on his food. Instead he was trying not to stare at Regan and Oscar intently. Right, he drifted his gaze back down to the table instead. The tablecloth. It… It was purple. And polka dotted. And were those dots changing sizes. “What the…” He pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. The fucking pixie. Great. Just great. The one factor of this equation he hadn’t planned for. Maybe Oscar wouldn’t notice. “So, uh, anyway, how’s the food?”

Shit. Crap. Putain. She shouldn’t have mentioned the childhood coyote skeleton. Would he see that as a symptom? No, no, surely there were plenty of children who opted for articulated animal skeletons instead of stuffed toys, right? Regan stuttered, unable to get a good, convincing answer past her lips. “It’s-- well, yes, I always have-- sometimes I find b-- I mean, I had all of the bones, and I wanted to-- it seemed a waste to not--” Kaden saved her, describing dinner. He must have been really stressed to cook so much. Not surprising, but the thought ached inside of her nonetheless. He wanted both of their approval. That much was obvious, despite Kaden’s usual commentary about not caring about that kind of thing. Regan never really believed that to be true, and any conversation involving Kaden’s family highlighted just how false it was. She’d share her own thoughts about Oscar with him later, after he left. So far, they were mostly positive. That alone sat inside of her uncomfortably, considering what she knew about him beyond his easy and kind demeanor. Based on what Kaden had told her, this dinner would be going very differently if she hadn’t been wearing the necklace.

The food looked and smelled delicious, but her stomach was too full of nerves for her to fully enjoy it. Still, she did her best to clear at least half of the plate. Whatever they didn’t finish would either go home with Oscar, or the two of them could have it as leftovers when they didn’t need to worry about one small slip-up leading to Kaden being ostracized from the only remaining family he had left. Regan’s pulse spiked at the thought, the reminder of what was at stake. She set her fork down. Looked at her plastic glass full of wine, untouched. Her hands felt shaky, and she needed to step away, collect herself, conduct the breathing exercises Deirdre taught her so she didn’t end up accidentally breaking something by exhaling too harshly. “I’ll be right--”

But as Regan set her hands on the tablecloth to stand up, she noticed something. “Kaden, is this… a new tablecloth?” She studied it. Purple with polka dots. At least it wasn’t black and white stripes, but it was a far cry from Kaden’s usual decor. “Remind me to find you one that’s less-- well, one that fits in with the rest of your kitchen.” Not that Regan was much of an interior decorator -- her own apartment was primarily stark white so she didn’t have to consider things like this -- but a garish tablecloth undercut his cooking. She ran it through her fingers, noting that the dots almost seemed to be… no, they were moving. Some were growing, while others were shrinking. A few turned into black-and-white cookies, split down the middle. “Kaden.” She looked at him, eyes wide. This wasn’t normal. This was one of those things. Like the mushrooms in Kaden’s bed, or how Abel’s tail was occasionally green. Rumpleskuffs. She drummed her fingers anxiously against the table, before looking at Oscar, then Kaden again. “You know, our friend may have sold you a faulty tablecloth. Maybe we should go speak with him.” It was just close enough to the truth that she didn’t double over, but deep enough into liar’s territory that she choked, spilling her wine across the table.

Oscar feigned shock at Kaden’s statement. Of course he had been the one to teach Kaden swear words much to his parents’ disapproval, but it was more fun to play the innocent card. He turned to Regan and playfully commented, “Don’t believe a word this one says about me. I am and always have been a perfect gentleman.” He couldn’t even keep a straight face and laughed almost immediately after the words left his mouth. Somehow, the mood still didn’t feel any lighter and Regan seemed to spiral into another small ramble. Had what he said been offensive? Sometimes it was difficult for him to pick up on small nuances in English as it wasn’t his first or most spoken language. “I didn’t mean it if it sounded as if I was questioning the coyote skeleton. While not my cup of tea, I think science is important and it’s admirable that you took an interest in it at such a young age,” he clarified. Or at least he hoped he had. The last thing he wanted to do was scare Kaden’s girlfriend off when by all indication it appeared his nephew built himself a good life here.

The spread Kaden had going for dinner was nothing short of impressive. Oscar had no doubt in his mind that Lauren would be proud of this meal. It highlighted their culture and cuisine while still having some of the familiar aspects he’d remembered in dinners at the Langley home back in Lyons whenever Lauren and Charles would prepare a meal. It was hard not to be nostalgic for those days. Hell, it probably should have been them here at this dinner with Kaden and his lady, but here he was, doing his best still to be a stand in. Uncle had always better suited him. He was better at the more fun aspects of things, but Oscar was all Kaden had left. Maybe he’d never be able to provide the same stability Lauren and Charles had, but he’d be here when it counted. Right now, it did. “It smells just as good as I remember it. It’s been too long since I’ve had a good coq au vin.”

He had dove into eating his meal. After an afternoon filled with target practice, Oscar had worked up quite the appetite. Everything smelled and tasted so delicious, he’d been caught up in his first few bites before he noticed Kaden and Regan were being even stranger now. He looked up from his plate and set his fork down. “What’s wrong,” he asked, looking to Kaden before the movement on the tablecloth caught his attention. “Sheisse!” It was purple and moving when it decidedly had not been before. Somehow, he’d ended up with a cursed tablecloth though he had to think quick to explain it to Regan. It seemed she’d already come up with a logical explanation. “Yeah, Junge, I think your friend has an odd sense of humor. Holographic tablecloths are a little gauche, but a real shit prank.” Maybe not the best explanation, but he was thinking on his feet as the Americans said. Regan seemed to be sputtering and he looked to Kaden, “We should probably just remove the tablecloth.”

Normally Regan wasn’t one to pick at her food. Not unless something was off. Kaden knew that much. His heart sunk down into the knots of his stomach as his mind flashed to months ago, them sitting at the same table, picking at their food the same way just moments before the first time he first saw her wings. His eyes caught Oscar, scarfing down dinner like nothing was amiss. Good, that was good. He didn’t suspect anything. Not yet. He was just as clueless as Kaden had been. Maybe more. “Glad you like it,” he said, the corner of his mouth pulling into a smile despite his worry. It was hard not to feel a little pride swell at the thought of following in his family’s footsteps, doing them proud, even with something as silly as getting a family recipe right.

The knot in his stomach didn’t untangle much, though. And it was obvious Regan was just fraught as he was over the whole situation. Maybe Kaden shouldn’t have told her as much as he had about Oscar, let her be a little less nervous for this. No, that would have been worse. Much worse. Keeping her in the dark might have been easier for them upfront but worse in the long run. Plus, there was some comfort in knowing he wasn’t alone with his nerves. He caught her eye and saw the flash of pure panic in them. Oh no. Not now. His jaw clenched as his eyes remained fixed on hers. Should he follow her? Do something? What if she was going to scream? Putain. He took a large swig of his wine. He had to calm down. Stress would only make this worse. If he was panicked, how could he even begin to help her? He was just about to ask her if she needed help when she pointed out what he already saw.

Shit. Kaden was hoping that he was the only one to notice that. He looked down at and back up at Oscar and then Regan. “This? Uh, yeah, it’s, uh new…” Relief hit him like a wave when she filled in the blanks for him. A small wave, tiny. Oscar did the rest. “You’re right. I should really get rid of it, just--” And then the wine splashed across the table, some of it onto his lap. Abel was up and at the side of the table, trying to lap up whatever it was that was falling off the table, hoping to get some crumbs, anything. “No, down! Shit!” He tried to push the dog away and save what he could of the food but neither was working particularly well.

Well this was a mess already. Not the kind Kaden had expected, though he really should have. He grabbed Abel’s collar and went to put him in his crate or the bedroom, something, when it hit him. “Sorry, I have to-- Can you two get the table cloth? I’ll be right back.” He turned and saw a rainbow budding out across the kitchen. Putain de merde. He’d asked the pixie to keep it down. Maybe he should have been more specific. Shit, they were going to see the-- “Uh, look! Over there! I think something spilled on the-- by the-- the thing!” he said, pointing away from the kitchen. Yes. What a perfect distraction. He grumbled and turned to go to the bedroom with Abel, but paused and realized he needed a bribe first. He dragged Abel with him to the pie in the kitchen and picked off a small piece, trying to keep it away from the dog. “Not yet,” he mumbled. “Regan will get you a peanut butter treat in a minute.” Abel barked an approval as they walked to the bedroom to go talk to a pixie.

As the wine spilled across the table, Regan’s hands flew to cover her mouth. She felt her palms vibrate as she caught and snuffed out a high-pitched yelp. A glance up. Lights intact. Nothing broken. She sighed in relief, and then slowly dropped her hands back to her sides. Close, too close. At least Oscar seemed to think Kaden got his hands on a holographic tablecloth, and-- well, maybe it really was that. It was a far more logical explanation than a “pixie” in a cage somehow altering their perception from several rooms away.

She was beginning to think she was going just as mad as Kaden, and the rest of this damn town.

“Sorry! I’ll clean this up. You--” Regan met Kaden’s eyes to confirm that he knew exactly where he needed to go. “You go do the, uh, thing. That you have to do. You know, talk to our friend! I’ll be here. With your uncle. Cleaning wine.” Her nerves spiked as what that meant started to sink in. She didn’t want to be alone with him again, not when it felt so risky. At least with Kaden here, one of them was functionally able to lie if necessary. That, and his presence just made her feel a little more at ease. She could do this, right? They could talk about things that weren’t death-related. She was capable of carrying out a normal conversation… right? “Do you like, uh, yogurt?” She asked Oscar as Kaden scurried out of the room as quickly as possible. But as she looked over at Oscar, right there behind his shoulder was-- no, that had to be light coming through the window, refracting through the glass. There wasn’t a rainbow inside of Kaden’s apartment. No way. But as she stared, saw each color grow brighter and brighter, she realized this -- somehow -- could have been Rumpleskuff’s doing as well. Crap. He couldn’t know about Rumpleskuffs, could he? He had wings, just like her. Well, not just like her. Hers were far nicer. Not that they were nice. She shook her head at the thought. Get his attention away from the rainbow. That’s what Kaden would be trying to do at this moment.

Crap crap crap crap. What was the best way to distract someone? “Hey!” Regan clapped, hoping the noise would draw Oscar’s eyes, “Let’s, uh, clean up this wine! But don’t go searching for a rag. I have one, um, right over…” She looked in the opposite direction from the rainbow. Not many dishtowel-like objects to choose from over there, but she took a chance rummaging through one of the drawers. That’s when she found it-- a pair of boxer shorts? In-- why were they-- Regan frowned deeply at the underwear in her hands. It was covered in black and white stripes. She’d have questions for Kaden once Oscar left. “Let’s use these,” she said, trying to smooth any sign of being disturbed out of her voice. She motioned toward the table hoping to keep Oscar’s eyes on this side of the room. His gaze kept wandering, though. Time for last resorts -- she put a hand on his shoulder and guided it around, back toward the kitchen table. “Don’t worry about the faulty tablecloth! Just, uh, we need to clean the floor. You know, so it doesn’t get sticky.”

Verdammt! What was supposed to be an enjoyable dinner with his nephew and his girlfriend had spiraled into utter chaos. Oscar shook his head as wine spilled off the table in an attempt to remove the table cloth. Of course the dog was eager to lick anything up that made its way to the floor. How Regan wasn’t running for the hills right now was a mystery to him, but he always found non-powered humans had an odd way of rationalizing things. The yelp she was holding in was still sizable enough to indicate she was alarmed. He looked to her and did his best to remain calm. “It’s okay, looks like your friend is a real jokester. It’s just a tablecloth. Don’t worry, we’ll get it out of here.” What they would do about the inevitable curse on it was another question entirely. Had the feud he had going with the mimes escalated?

Kaden was rushing off to put Abel away and give someone a call. Hopefully a fucking spellcaster because this was a disaster. Oscar had been looking forward to this evening and didn’t quite appreciate the rude interruption. He was perplexed by the question about yogurt. “Yeah, I guess,” he answered while trying to further assess the situation. He knelt down to pick up the fallen food and was shocked when Regan suggested he used a pair of striped underpants to wipe up the wine. He looked at her, confusion evident in his face, and muttered, “Sheisse.”

“Are you telling me my nephew doesn’t keep dish towels, rags, or even paper products around for cleaning,” Oscar asked, trying to keep his tone more shocked than annoyed. His frustration wasn’t with Regan, rather with the mess of a situation they found themselves in. Though the stripes on the underwear confirmed that the mimes were definitely trying to curse his nephew. As much was truly bizarre. He shook his head and used the boxers anyway. Hopefully the curse on them wasn’t passed on by contact otherwise he and Regan would both be screwed. He started wiping up the wine though the floor was still sticky. “Does he have any cleaning spray I can use here?” He looked up from the floor, perplexed to see a rainbow in the kitchen. He blinked a few times to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. “You know what, never mind, I have some water right here. Why don’t you finish your meal?” There’d be no way to explain the rainbow in the kitchen, so he hoped food was an adequate distraction.

“Hey, cut it out!” Kaden whispered harshly to the pixie on the dresser. “What about ‘keep it down’ did you not understand?” He grumbled and handed over the small piece of pie he’d nabbed over to the tiny fae. It wasn’t much of an offering, but it was better than nothing. “There are two big legs out there and at least one of them would kill you if he knew you were here.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Putain, it was entirely possible that Oscar could hear him talking in here. Hunter hearing. He’d have to keep it down, hope that he assumed he was talking to the dog. Abel looked at him and barked, expecting his own tiny treat, especially if the small winged thing got one. “Later. I promise,” he told the dog. That’s when it hit him. He blinked and then turned to Rumpleskuffs. Back to Abel. Then to the pixie again. “I’ll let you ride Abel around the room the whole time we’re out there if you promise to keep it down and no more illusions until Oscar leaves.”

Rumpleskuffs gasped in delight as Kaden walked into the room, bouncing off the walls of the cage. He kept begging Kaden to let him go spend one night in a fairy ring. Heck, he just wanted one mushroom. “All your friends always want to kill me! And you keep not letting them, so I’m okay, big guy!” He replied with a wicked grin, enchanting the air around him red with white spots, swirling and dancing around him. But Kaden had his frowny, serious face on, so Rumple pouted, collapsing on to his back dramatically. “Ughhhhh! Do you know what you need, Kaden-Waden? A sense of humour!” He sat up sharply at the suggestion of riding Abel again. “Oh, yes please! I promise to keep it - whatever that is - down and no more illusions until Oscar leaves! Let me at him!”

Kaden breathed a sigh of relief as he opened up the cage and let Rumpleskuffs fly over to Abel who seemed to not mind his small winged friend at all. Well at least both of them would be occupied and he slipped out to go see what was happening now with Regan and Oscar. His pulse spiked again at the thought alone. No, they were okay. They had to be. He would have heard a scream otherwise. He couldn’t have anticipated what he saw in his wildest dreams. They were both on the floor with some black and white striped fabric in their hands wiping off the floor. The rainbow behind them in the kitchen was fading away which was good but-- Wait. “Whose boxers are those? And where-- Why?” He shook his head and went to grab a towel in the kitchen and just saw rows and rows of striped boxers there. “What the fuck?” He couldn’t tell if that was a Rumpleskuffs or Isabelle special, but he grumbled some curse words to himself either way and grabbed a roll of paper towels. “Both of you sit. Eat. I’ve got it,” he said as he crouched down and wiped up the last of the wine. “Those aren’t mine. For the record,” he said pointing to the fucking mime boxers.

“He, uh… he does keep them. Just not… here.” Regan winced, anticipating a lump in her throat from the lie, but it never came. She supposed it was vague enough. “He’s very clean. You know, I think it comes with the territory of being such a talented chef. Clean kitchen, clean food, plenty of cleaning supplies and dish towels and rags, but-- don’t concern yourself with it, just use the… boxers. He doesn’t want them, anyways. Trust me.” If he even knew they were here.

Regan should have figured things would go south; they almost always did. At least this time, it hadn’t directly been her fault. She just needed to continue not being suspicious. “No, no, I’ll help. I don’t want to eat while the two of you are, um, handling things.” Not to mention, it felt like there was a storm surging in her stomach. She wasn’t going to be able to settle it enough to enjoy dinner now, and she had a feeling Kaden would feel the same. As Oscar cleaned the floor, Regan carefully transported everything from the kitchen table to the counter so she could roll up and discard the table cloth.

The rainbow hovered menacingly across the kitchen, just waiting for Oscar to catch a glimpse of it. Kaden needed to come back, and soon. Regan wasn’t sure she could hold Oscar off for much longer. She tried to stay on the opposite side of the room, keeping his attention drawn, but -- “Look over here!” She said, as Oscar nearly turned toward the rainbow. She leaped down onto the floor with him, doing some scrubbing of her own, “I mean, because, uh, oh! Kaden is coming back. I hear him.” Fortunately, she really did. She sighed audibly and sank down to her butt. Kaden was back. Everything was going to be okay. He even looked less nervous than before. “Did you talk to him?” But his face was bunched up in confusion. As Regan looked down to what was in her and Oscar’s hands, she understood why. “Oh, these are… they’re not yours, are they? We found them in the drawer. I didn’t want to get a towel because of the--” No. Don’t say it. “It doesn’t matter. Look, we cleaned up most of the wine! Everything is taken care of.” Out of the corner of her eye, Regan checked on the rainbow; even that was rapidly fading. Phew. “We don’t have a tablecloth now though, unless you have extras.” Or… Regan had a thought, staring at the innumerable striped boxers.

No.

Sometimes it was better to just not use a tablecloth.

This was decidedly not how this evening was supposed to go. Sure, settling down had never been Oscar’s thing, but he always had a soft spot for Kaden, even before Lauren and Charles had passed away. While the hijinks going on couldn’t possibly be blamed on him or ruin Regan’s impression of him, he still would have preferred things go smoothly despite the fact he normally loved some supernatural sheisse getting in the way of things. It usually meant some sort of fight though he had the feeling later on Kaden would not be opposed to letting him fight the mime who did this. It had to be a mime, right? Why else would striped boxers appear though the rainbow and purple tablecloth were also unsettling. He’d need to talk to Kaden when Regan wasn’t around. There was no need for her to get dragged into all this crap. She was drawing his attention now. “Right, yeah, he’s coming back,” he glanced briefly back at the fading rainbow which Regan seemed to have missed. That was a close one.

“What kind of people have you been hanging out with, Junge? Aren’t you a little old for pranks,” Oscar ribbed, hoping the natural air of humor he had about him would call away from anything suspicious about the situation. Kaden was insisting they sit back down and eat though now he could see the rainbow fading. The striped boxers while alarming were still funny now that he wasn’t actively trying to keep Regan from seeing anything too crazy. He could relax a bit now. That had been quite the jolt of excitement that would have been thrilling under just about any other circumstance. With a hearty chuckle, he answered, “I think we can do without the table cloth. I don’t think I’m a fancy enough guest to warrant it anyway.”

Oscar seemed to shrug off everything that had just happened, but Regan still felt the tension simmering through the kitchen. She stuck to Kaden’s side now that he was back, her arm entwining with his. As much as she wanted to whisper something to him right now about how close they’d come to Oscar seeing the rainbow, it was best to wait until they were alone. How would she have explained that, anyway? Well, actually, Regan could think of a number of implausible explanations, but she didn’t think any of them were right. She didn’t know what was right. Why had that been happening so often, lately? She looked at Kaden, staring nervously as Oscar joked up the cloth being a prank. There was silence for what felt like a minute. “Yes. A prank.”

“This isn’t from a person. It’s from a mime,” Kaden said with contempt. He thought the cookies would be the last of it. The stripes, wasn’t that torment enough? Hadn’t he suffered enough? He grumbled about Isabelle and fucking stripes, mostly in French while he helped clear off the table cloth. He sighed and brushed it aside when he felt Regan’s arm loop around his. He’d deal with all the mime nonsense and pixie nonsense and fae bullshit later. At this point, if Oscar didn’t know that Regan wasn’t human and a rainbow in the middle of the kitchen didn’t raise enough of an eyebrow to pull him aside, Kaden had to believe the rest of the night might be uneventful. It had to be, right? “You’re probably right, though. Just a prank. I’ll… figure it out later.” This night couldn’t last much longer, they were running out of disasters. And the last thing he wanted to do was tempt fate. “You know, I think we should skip to dessert. One second,” he said, giving Regan a quick peck on the cheek before turning back to the kitchen.

One step forward and a chill ran down his spine. The hell was that about? Could he sense fae now? What was going on? Kaden paused and looked around and saw the small mime monster made of cookies scurry through, a small mouse tail and little feet dangling from its stomach, and then slide out under the door. He stood there blinking as it crawled away, out of the apartment. “Putain,” he muttered. No. Not tonight. Later. He grabbed the pie and cut a few slices, carrying them back over with him. “How about we just eat in the living room on the couch?”

[in-tua-deep]

things i think the Hargreeves should do post apocalypse:

Luther:

Any adult shop classes because I genuinely love mechanic!Luther and have been slipping that into like, all my aus where I can.

Goes to slam poetry nights because he genuinely enjoys poetry (hello space poetry from episode one about the comet or whatever) and maybe one day is confident enough to share his with other people

Gets some gym bros who all enthusiastically support him in a bro sort of way who are constantly getting their minds blown by how much Luther can lift and constantly going “YOOOOOO” while Luther tries to downplay things bc he’s embarrassed 

I don’t know I just want Luther to have actual friends

Probably goes to every astronomy event where people have telescopes and is known in that scene so every time there’s some event at the observatory newcomers are like “what the FUCK” when this bigass bodybuilder comes in and starts gushing about which planet is visible I don’t know

Spearheads a lot of the family’s museum (that aren’t art museum) outings, especially if they have any exhibit that even vaguely relates to outer space or planets or the moon or anything. 

Probably gets up at godawful hours on the morning to go hiking and see the sunrise because he really liked doing that on the moon and even though it isn’t quite the same he still loves to do it. (If he’s not hiking he goes up to Grace’s roof garden to watch it)

Diego:

He already does his fighting at the gym which is kind of cool I’m going to gently assume that he already has gym bros and if he doesn’t then he becomes somewhat more approachable after everything

(having your mother comes down to the gym and kiss your cheek or your teenage brother hop in to drag you away or you other very flamboyant sibling dance his way into the gym to fetch you doesn’t exactly do wonders for keeping a reputation going)

I do want to think that Diego takes up like,, whittling but I think he’d have to do it away from Vanya bc,, you know,, Leonard/Harold whatever was a woodcarver or something but idk maybe Vanya is cool with it - but just the image of Diego hunching over and carving at something and Klaus leaning over and trying to enthusiastically guess what it is while getting it super super wrong because Diego is a beginner and his starting pieces are all lumpy monstrosities makes me smile

Diego taking cooking classes so that he can surprise Grace by taking over dinner sometimes and letting her relax and do what she wants

I’ve said this somewhere before but Diego spearheading picnic events and forcing the family out of the house because he thinks it’s a nice thing for Grace to see the world and on god if any of his siblings fight him about it he will stuff their asses into a picnic basket himself because they are GOING

Gets dragged by Klaus into dumb ideas to “give ourselves a CHILDHOOD diego” more than any other member of the family. Which basically means that Diego is the one Klaus grabs to surf a mattress down the staircase and other dumbass ideas

Allison:

Probably ends up redecorating the mansion and completely redoing it to make it more modern and also less the horrible hellscape with taxidermied animals on the walls that it is. Her and Grace squad up to plan everything and then Allison makes everyone help when it comes to things like painting and building all the nice ikea furniture she just bought

Takes parenting classes as sort of extra credit for her custody case for Claire. I feel like eventually she and Patrick genuinely talk to each other, maybe at some kind of joint therapy, and sort of clear the air between them. They might never get back together, but they at least become sort of friends again. Mainly because I like the Patrick I’ve built up for myself in my head tbh

Occasionally attends craft classes with Klaus when she has a spare moment, because he goes to like,, all the local craft classes. She likes to spend the time with him. Is probably the only sibling who willingly attends with Klaus, but others get dragged along as well.

Probably takes up scrapbooking? She wants to have something physical to give to Claire so decides to go through like,, all the camera footage of their childhoods and pick out good images (because goodness knows they didn’t have cute family pictures) and maybe Grace uploads some of her memories to a harddrive with cute shit and they scrapbook together let me have this

on a related note buys a camera and starts trying to catch her siblings doing cute things for her scrapbook with the sort of determined energy of someone who has realized that she’s having to do her scrapbooking from security camera footage because their childhoods were fucked up

(she has a bajillion pictures of herself - thank you paparazzi - but all she has on her siblings is like... what, one of diego’s fighting posters and the two pictures of Vanya from her book and from the newspaper on the fucked up apocalypse concert??)

Klaus:

Genuinely goes to any and all craft classes offered at the community center and random places around town. Usually sort of a disaster, always a disaster when he drags along his siblings, and always proudly brings home his third grader worthy creations that Grace proudly puts on the shelves. He gets better at things the more he goes to them though, so there’s a progression of skill level in his crafts. Allison goes with him when she has time.

Has a knitting circle that he attends that is primarily made of little old ladies who dote on him. Five occasionally goes with but it often conflicts with Five’s other extra curricular activities.

Bakes at home a lot, with Grace’s supervision after some certain incidents that should remain unnamed. Tends to get ‘creative’ with the recipes but now that Grace is present to make sure it won’t be a disaster everyone is more willing to taste whatever comes out. Has, on at least one occasion, insisted on decorating cookies or icing cupcakes or whatever as a ‘family bonding activity.’

Goes with Ben to the movie theater frequently even to the gross horror movies that Klaus hates and Ben absolutely loves. Klaus always insists Diego come to the horror movies so that Klaus has someone physically there for him to hold onto when he’s scared. Five comes sometimes as well, but tends to critique the special effects - especially blood and blood splatter - which makes other people turn around to hush them.

Five:

I genuinely want to say he does gymnastics lessons. Mainly because I feel like he needs to do SOMETHING physical and get rid of his excess energy, and also I think it would be hilarious for him to be tumbling and teleporting and shit at the same time what a wild ride. Absolutely refuses to allow his siblings to come to any competitions or whatever, but they all end up showing up anyway.

Starts learning instruments. Asks Vanya for lessons on the violin so they can play together, it’s very cute. I also wants to say starts learning the piano because someone sent me an ask once about it and it was super valid. And Five can learn both because I say so and he doesn’t go to school he has the free time

Is on first name basis with a bunch of scientists and mathematicians online where they all yell numbers at one another. Probably in a super technical group chat with a bunch of people with actual doctorates who don’t actually know that Five doesn’t have a doctorate. 

Actually you know what just let Five start actually going to college like let him go to the local community college or start taking college classes or something. He can get his GED or whatever. Let this boy get a DEGREE

Goes to art classes, first because drawing therapy was something Klaus suggested and he wanted to get his brother off his back. Later because he enjoys it. There’s a life drawing group he frequents - he’s the youngest there and new people always do a double take when he shows up but Five is very meticulous in his art and is actually pretty good. Grace goes with him as well because I say so and they deserve bonding time together

Ben:

I mean he’s kind of dead but let him do things with his siblings as well!!

Like I said earlier, a total movie buff and loves going to see things in theaters. And by movie buff I just mean he sees a lot of movies. Bizarrely into horror movies for how sensitive a kid he always was. He goes to the theater with Klaus for the most part but likes to watch movies with the family as well. Klaus makes him watch every animated movie with him in return for Ben dragging Klaus to watch horror movies.

Probably ends up with a youtube channel?? does movie reviews and game playthroughs whenever Klaus has enough energy to manifest him. Is pretty popular but half his followers are because of the bizarre shit that goes on in the backgrounds of his videos. People figure out Klaus (who is a frequent guest) is The Seance and then Five jumps in to tell them dinner is ready or something and they’re like “wait is that the Seances brother with the portal powers who vanished when he was a teen and still IS a teen” and the fact that ben probably has a username that’s some shit like “bentacles” that klaus set up for him everyone is theorizing that the channel is just. Ghost Ben and Five who are being manifested by the Seance to?? play games? 

well. they’re half right.

it certain doesn’t help the rumor mill when Ben makes sarcastic comments about dying or how he can’t get arrested because he’s legally dead and shit like that.

“Yeah sorry I didn’t post yesterday Klaus’s knitting group ended up getting arrested somehow - I was there and I’m still not sure went down - so that’s why I didn’t manifest”

Vanya:

I mean obviously she plays the violin that’s her job. She also teaches Five how to play the violin when he expresses an interest!! She is very touched by the gesture

Swims to keep fit and is a frequent at the pool. Klaus once bugged her to let him come, but it’s really her thing that she just does by herself when she wants to get out of her own brain. She does promise Klaus that they’ll take a family trip to a water park one day though, which he enthusiastically takes her up on.

Attends a book club that she also half-shares with Ben. Ben doesn’t come with to any of the meetings, but she always buys two copies/borrow two copies from the library so that Ben can read along with them and he and Vanya discuss the books before she even goes to any of the meetings. Probably thought there would be more discussion of the books than complaining about their general lives, but keeps going because she lowkey wants an excuse to keep frequenting the bookstore where this cute girl works.

Her and Five steadily are making their way through all the coffee shops in the city (as well as through their menus) in search of the best cup of coffee. It’s just a fun thing they do together that the other siblings occasionally go with as well whenever they have time. Both Five and Vanya have notebooks where they record their ratings based on a variety of factors. Diego calls them pretentious and Klaus always gets the ones which are barely classified as coffee when he goes with (Five steals sips and makes faces but continues to do so)

Grace:

Frequents art museums and galleries! Supports a lot of beginning and local artists by buying their art and has a lot of rotating paintings and prints in the house depending on her mood. She got rid of pretty much like,, all the old painting that Reggie had up except for a few of her favs which she relocates to her new room that Diego put his foot down on giving her

Goes with Five to his art classes at first because, as a minor, he needed an adult to go with him for nudity reasons (it’s a life drawing class man). Grace didn’t expect to actually draw herself but Five insisted because he felt awkward with her just standing there. She prefers abstract styles herself (so many people at this art class have a crush on Grace you have no idea)

(actually goes with Five to most things he’s beginning for himself for at least the first lesson to sign him up as an adult because Five loathes having to ask his siblings)

Commissions someone to come and paint a portrait of the family that’s for them, where none of them are stiff and they’re all happy. She tips the artist fabulously for it and hangs the new family portrait in the place of honor above the mantle where Five’s portrait used to hang (they all destroyed it as a family bonding activity)

Keeps bees on the roof after one of the kids showed her an article about saving the bees. She can’t get stung and genuinely enjoys hanging out up there where she ALSO started a big garden because I say so and Grace deserves to be surrounded by flowers and bumblebees and happiness don’t @ me

[jancmalandra]

The Lost Count

On making new friends

On the first day of Spring in the midmorning after breakfast, Moomintroll, Snork Maiden, their children Tayberry and Moomin, Little My and Snufkin were lying on their stomachs on the footbridge Moominpapa had built over the stream that passed by Moominhouse, dangling bark boats that they had made themselves over the upstream side of the bridge. The two eight year old Snorkmoomins lay in between their parents and eyed the little boats in their paws anxiously as they waited for Snufkin to signal the start of the race. Tayberry looked exactly like her mother, only the fringe of blonde hair on her head was unkempt and her body was a permanent shade of light red. Moomin's body was robin's egg blue, and they wore a pair of denim overalls and a matched pair of gold bracelets on their paws and a bejeweled hair pin in the fringe of light purple hair on their head. The siblings' boats were obviously not as well-carved or rigged as their parents' or Snufkin's or Little My's, despite the care they had taken in making them. It seemed somehow unfair to Moomin that they and their sister should always be outmatched by the adults simply because they were so much older. They weren't about to give up before the race even began, however.

"On your marks! Go!", shouted Snufkin suddenly, and everyone dropped their boats into the stream at once. They all rushed over to the railing on the downstream side of the footbridge and began cheering on their bark boats. Moomin was particularly satisfied that Snufkin hadn't taken them by surprise by saying "Go!" at an unexpected time. Moomin had often asked Snufkin why he was always doing things like that, and he had always said the same thing, "Life doesn't work by anyone's rules, not even by my total lack of rules." They had tried thinking that through many times, but Moomin had never been satisfied by the conclusions they came to.

Moomin was very surprised and delighted when their boat came out from under the footbridge in first place, followed closely by Snufkin's, Snork Maiden's, and Tayberry's in rapid succession. Little My was clearly very irritated when her boat came in last, and was about to complain loudly when a familiar voice came down the path leading to the footbridge.

"Halt, you criminals! You're all under arrest for sailing bark boats without a license!", shouted Boyle, an eight year old Hemumymble, leading his two seven year old brothers, Bristol and Auguste in their charge on the bridge. All three wore very pretty Spring dresses and resembled their father, The Inspector, very closely apart from their full heads of red hair and Mymble horns.

"Run, everyone! It's the police!", shouted Little My in feigned alarm, leading Tayberry and Moomin past their pursuers and down the path to the Moomin King's castle. The children and My all shouted and laughed with glee as they ran down the path.

"No matter how many times I see them playing that game, it never gets old!", said Snufkin smiling broadly, "They always remind me of all the merry chases I've led Park Keepers on!"

"It's a good thing that you've never gotten out of practice, and that you've always enjoyed taking partners in crime along on your escapades.", said Moomintroll, "You've given both The Inspector's and our children a really good education in law enforcement!" Both he and Snork Maiden laughed in great amusement at Snufkin's embarrassed, but pleased expression at Moomintroll's joking jab at him.

Moomin, Tayberry, and Little My crossed the drawbridge of the Moomin King's castle and headed straight into the central keep, with Boyle, Bristol, and Auguste just behind them. This was the most fun part of this game for all the children and Little My. They had all agreed to treat all of the walls, doors, furniture and the ghosts themselves as if they were solid to make playing in the castle more challenging. Racing through the castle was also a test of courage for all of them except Little My, who had always been absolutely fearless. They raced around the castle rambunctiously, cheered on by the Moomin Knights and the other members of the ghostly court. The ghosts found the games the children of Moominvally played in their castle to be really delightful. They had never expected to hear the sound of children's laughter again after centuries of accidentally scaring them away.

The five children and Little My made the full round of the rooms on the first floor of castle and raced outside again over the drawbridge only to run headlong into a young Fuzzy standing just outside of the castle wearing a very bland black pair of trousers, a grey longsleeved shirt, a black skullcap, and an apron. Moomin, Tayberry, and Little My all wound up piled up on top of him. Boyle, Bristol, and Auguste barely managed to stop themselves before they too joined the pileup.

"Why don't you watch where you're standing?!", asked Little My once she and the two Snorkmoomins managed to get up off of the young Fuzzy, "It's really stupid of you to be wandering around in the middle of traffic like that!"

"I'm terribly sorry, ma'am!", said the Fuzzy in a frightened, but very formal tone of voice, "Please tell me how I can make amends!"

"Amends?!", said Little My, secretly pleased at being recognized as a grownup immediately (given her tiny size, it wasn't at all surprising that she was still frequently accidentally treated like a small child), "That's an awfully fancy way to talk for an insignificant little nobody like you! What's your name and how did you get here?"

"G....Gerard!", the Fuzzy said, clearly having barely managed to stop himself from giving another name altogether, "I just managed to make it to Moominvalley after traveling from Tornio, and I was hoping to locate a household in need of a live-in servant. Any position will do!"

"Boy are you ever a terrible liar!", accused Boyle, "First of all, you're already wearing a servant's uniform from some household somewhere, and it's practically brand new, apart from the dirt we just got on it! Secondly, you're clearly uncomfortable wearing it: you haven't stopped picking at it, trying to get comfortable in it since you stood up! Thirdly, your paws are far too soft for you to be a servant! Lastly, there's no way you just traveled all the way here on foot from Tornio. That's at least a day's journey for someone as obviously inexperienced as you. You're not even carrying a backpack! You can't possibly be that stupid, and I hope you don't think I'm that stupid, either!"

Boyle was a born detective. He was highly observant, detail oriented, adept at the scientific method, and naturally curious. His admiration of and deep love for his father had driven him to read every book of detective fiction and non-fiction that he could get his paws on from the time he was five. His driving ambition was to replace his father as Moominvalley's Inspector when the time came for his father to retire. His two brothers had gotten swept up in this ambition and couldn't wait until they were old enough to serve in the Constables under him.

"O....okay!", said Gerard, bursting into tears, "I'm the SON of Count Johann Wolfgang Fuzzy, and I've run away from home! I'm begging you not to send me back to him! I'll do anything you ask! I'll be your loyal, obedient servant for the rest of my life if you'll only take me in and keep my secret!"

This story sounded unpleasantly familiar to Moomin. They were instantly reminded of their father's story of the time the Moomin family had taken in a small runaway child who turned out to be the crown prince of a powerful kingdom. Moomintroll had spun a thrilling but completely improbable tale of how the king of that country had sent a vast army to invade Moominvalley and reclaim their son and how the valley only narrowly escaped destruction when Moomintroll convinced the prince to return to his family and country. Moomin knew full well that this was another one of their father's tall tales, and that Count Fuzzy didn't have an army at his command, but the point of the story had not been lost on Moomin. They could easily see how this current situation could spiral out of control if they let it go on any further than this.

"Oh, no you don't!", said Moomin, "Whatever problem you have with your parents, we'll support you however we can, but, running away won't solve anything! I already have a pretty good idea of what the problem is. I know personally how hard it is to stand up for yourself to your parents, even when you know that they love you. We'll all go back to your parents' mansion together and see you through this if you agree to come along peacefully, but we're taking you back one way or the other!"

Moomin had a real knack for being as caring, understanding, and firm as their grandmother, so Gerard felt that he had no choice but to surrender himself to Moomin and the others and let them take him back home. He nodded his assent meekly to Moomin and the group of children and Little My. Boyle thought to himself that he would have preferred showing Gerard off to The Inspector first, but he could see that there was no time to be lost and no real crime being committed. They all began making the long walk to Count Fuzzy's mansion on the far West side of Moominvalley. They stood supportively behind Gerard as he rang the doorbell. The door was quickly answered by a Fuzzy butler who gasped in surprise and ran back into the depths of the mansion to alert Gerard's parents that their child had been rescued. Moomin, Tayberry, and their friends closed the mansion's front door behind them and closed ranks around Gerard to show their support and to prevent him from retreating. They stood nervously in the mansion's foyer and braced themselves for what was clearly going to be a very dramatic reunion.

To Be Continued

[oldhauntsforgottenghosts]

Eli

So this is a ‘review’ of sorts for the movie Eli, available on Netflix. There will be spoilers under the cut. The premise of the film is a boy who has a terrible illness (effectively ‘allergic’ to everything a la the ‘Bubbly Boy’) is brought to a ‘hospital’ for an experimental treatment. This hospital is actually a renovated old house which may or may be haunted. One thing that I do appreciate about this is that this movie takes a departure from the typical, overdone horror movie tropes, but alas, maintains some of the standard character archetypes at points. It starts out as a fairly slow burn, but once the action starts, it doesn’t really stop. Personally, I appreciate how much of this story is built off tension, rather than just gore and blood and jumpscares. While there IS some gore/gross shit near the ending of the movie and a few jumpscares, they are not the ONLY force driving the movie forward. 

Probably should mention that this movie may trigger those sensitive to gore/medical procedures, jumpscares, and gaslighting/abuse. Spoilers follow under the cut.

So one of my favorite parts about this movie is the fact that the ghosts are not the ‘standard’ ghosts of any other horror movie. They go after Eli on a regular basis when he’s alone, terrifying the hell out of him, and quite frankly, me as well! They’re pretty fucked up looking, and when they pop out, they ARE a jumpscare, 

That being said, they’re not actually evil - if anything, they do not actively attempt to HARM Eli, despite them attempting to drag him out of the house and terrifying him. In reality, they are trying to prevent him from suffering the same fate as he has. (My one gripe - if they were trying to get him out of the house, they should’ve ‘haunted’ his parents, as they were the ones with all the power, obviously). 

Eli himself... Is interesting. For a young boy, he’s resourceful and intelligent, not to mention braver and more level headed than most adults. If anything, this borders into stupidity, as he continues to attempt to explore the rest of the house/hospital even after being told to not to multiple times. Despite all of this, his parents do not take him seriously, with his father being the worst offender. 

His mother seems to be caring and loving for him, if subservient to her husband. Her husband, meanwhile, is a fucking piece of work. At no point is he a sympathetic or even likable character - if anything, he reads as abusive in the way that he talks to both his wife and son, not to mention his actions - as the movie wears on, not only is he short and terse with both members of his family, but he physically attacks his son at one point and drugs him at another to fulfill the final ‘treatment’. Perhaps thankfully, he does die near the end, along with the nuns pretending to be medical professionals. 

Yep, nuns. So it turns out that Eli is actually one of the offspring of the Devil, along with the girl that he meets outside the greenhouse of the treatment facility. Eli’s mother desperately wanted a child, and it wasn’t Jesus/God that answered her prayers. With that revelation, it’s no surprise that Eli’s ‘father’ apparently hated him, and while it was his mother who continued to give him ‘medication’ that made him ill, it wouldn’t surprise me if it was at the behest of her husband. 

As a note, this entire movie will make you feel icky af if you’re sensitive to gaslighting. At no point is Eli ACTUALLY ill, as we see near the end of the movie - rather, the ‘medication’ is what makes him ill, as it’s things that apparently have connections to God/protection against evil, such as Holy Water. Eli lives his entire life believing that he actually has a severe, life threatening illness that will kill him if he steps outside of his hazmat suit or bubble environment, when in reality it is his parents making and keeping him ill to ‘suppress’ his supernatural bloodline. Meanwhile, any time he attempts to bring up what he is experiencing and the ghosts that he is seeing, the doctor keeps insisting that it’s all in his head. 

Finally, the ending is rather neatly done. Eli’s supernatural power comes through fully, and he ends up killing his father and the three nuns that were masquerading as a doctor and her nurses.His mother is spared, perhaps because she has a change of heart. I’m not sure how to feel about that, as on the one hand she DID purposely make her son ill, but at the same time, I don’t feel like it was entirely HER choice - I feel that most of her actions were heavily influenced by her husband. 

The movie ends with Eli and his mother escaping from the house that is now burning down and encountering Haley (the girl he met in the greenhouse/sunroom), who along with the other ghosts in the house, is the offspring of Satan, making them half-siblings. Haley mentions that Eli was stronger than the other 3 who died (the ghosts), and offers to take him to their father. The movie ends with Eli being noticeably darker personality/energywise than at the start of the movie (and as an aside, I find it absolutely fascinating that Eli was an otherwise normal child at the start - no powers, no evil aura, nothing. Makes me wonder, if his parents weren’t trying to hard to ‘fix’ him, would the events in this movie ever happen? E.g. would his powers actually appear, would he start acting a bit darker, etc.?) and the trio driving off to parts unknown. Personally, I think that it neatly finished off the movie, leaving minimal questions unanswered. 

[chimbbles]

anybody ever thinks about doctor!hendery? because that’s the first thing that popped into my mind the second I saw him

T/W: mentions of blood, and I'm sorry I keep bringing up tetanus I don't mean to mock it or anything

it wasn’t a big deal, but the constant ringing in your head was getting harder to differentiate between a migraine and your incessant worries building up

days ago you were fixing up a shelf from ikea, your roommate having suggested you guys get a proper apparatus to house your various clutters

both of you went at it for the whole night, after coming home from a long day’s worth of work and neither of you denied the tiny spark of regret for getting something you can’t really handle at 1am in the morning

at last, the cheap metal frame is up, a job well done rewarded by crashing into the couch and dozing off right there

morning came and the shelf was thoroughly forgotten, even with its huge size propped right in front you

the effect of the iconic, “I’m late for work”

throwing yourself off the couch you ignored your hard work and skidded past absentmindedly, until it reminded you with a nasty gash in the shower

if your pinky toe was stinging in the water, it felt way worse when soap ran down your body

you had to stop and check, clenching your teeth at the act of rinsing off the soap to get a good look, and voila 

a fresh cut just below your cuticle, long and crimson till it reaches the joint

you definitely don’t have time for this

so you slap on some antibacterial cream, stick on a band-aid and call it class one first aid with 5 minutes till work starts

the day was: bad

not only you had to run, your shoes covered your wounded toe and you honestly doubt it does more to protect rather than harm it

your boss was obviously not impressed, and you’re stuck with a self appointed adult detention with a foul, cold sandwich titled gruesome lunch; at the set venue of your cubicle

having been reminded by the constant ache on your toe, you made it a point to text your roommate, informing them you two had built a death machine

they, however, took the joke a little too literally, and from the moment after lunch, they kept texting you to get it checked out

“what if it’s tetanus?”

“you could die from an infection!”

“are you sure the cream isn’t expired?”

“did you apply it properly”

“get it checked out you might be at risk”

and that’s why you’re here man no pun intended

where once again, things weren’t this serious, and were blew out of proportion

your self appointed detention unfortunately lasted for days, long as your boss was happy, and your punishment was a huge project with a short deadline

you pulled overtime for a straight 3 days now, and the projects almost there, just one day left

the all-nighter you suffered through proved efficient when you finished the project at near 5am in the morning, rumours of company ghosts no longer scare you when you roam amongst them as a comrad 

your zombified limbs pack up by themselves, brain too damaged from the cups of coffee chugged down your throat at the ungodly hours

your roommate’s nagging makes its appearance again, buzzing through your brain like a broken record

“you could have tetanus, it’s metal!”

you remember there’s a hospital on the route back home, so why not? staying up longer it doesn’t quite matter at this point

the reception desk threw a fit when they heard you connect the words ‘tetanus’ and ‘a few days ago’

that’s how you end up in line at the ER, instead of the intended clinic visit

it’s eerily chilly, with the bland white walls staring back at you

without you knowing it; the whirring of the busy machines and clinking of metal appliances lulls your tired figure to sleep, head leaning back and mouth open in a silent snore

“oh my goodness they blacked out”

“we need help here!”

within seconds your body was hauled onto a stretcher and pulled away in a whim, straight into a private room with an unsuspecting doctor

“came in saying they might have tetanus and the wound’s a few days old. ER’s full from a car crash and they just blacked out in the hall,”

“temperature’s rising, I think the fever started to set in, if you could take a look first dr.wong-”

“sure, sure”

‘dr.wong’ rounds the edge of his table to plant himself beside you, and you think the only regret you don’t have for the night is seeing his handsome face

he reads the thermometer before plucking the pen lodged at the opening of his white coat,

“okay, I need you to focus on this pen, follow it with your eyes, alright?”

of course he doesn’t wait for your agreement before waving the pen in front of you, and your slow brain can’t receive stimuli that well while it’s raving on caffeine 

“I’m getting slow response, fetch the vaccine now,”

one of the nurses hurriedly leaves the room, leaving one to stay and help the doctor,

he picks up the stethoscope from his desk and plugs the two ends into his ears, “alright, I need you to breathe for me,”

“and check the wound, please”

the nurse nods and springs into action, and your brain-- finally-- comes back to life

your grab the hand that’s holding the metal plate with both of yours, surprising him and making him go wide-eyed

but what do you say???

it could be tetanus but you don’t feel unwell at all, and you really, really don’t want a pissed off nurse to glare at you for the false alarm

also, you don’t want anyone to look at your ugly toes

“are you okay? does it hurt?”

the nurse stops taking off your shoe at the mention of pain, and waits for further instructions from the doctor

you bite down the embarrassment for your lame excuse, and gesture roughly to your throat, “....water”

they both share a concerned look, before the nurse moves and heads towards the door with a “I’ll be right back doctor”

now that you’re left with him alone, you feel less anxious about the whole situation, and sit up properly to talk to him

“I don’t have tetanus,”

you can see him processing your words before he lets out a hearty chuckle, “having tetanus isn’t illegal or contagious, we won’t throw you in quarantine,”

“no, no, I told them I don’t think it’s tetanus, it’s merely a cut from metal-- yes, but it’s not infected or anything, I just came here for a confirmation,”

he pauses to mull over your words, before taking off your shoe and tugging at your socks,

“I’m fine, really, I think this was a mistake-”

your socks successfully comes off, and he’s tentatively ripping your band-aid off, trying not to provoke the wound any further

when the wrapping comes off, he’s not too impressed by his present, which you think he fully expects a nasty, nasty wound, with yellow mucus oozing out from the opening and rotten flesh scent-- instead of a clean, clear, thread sized cut

“and I didn’t black out, I’m just very tired and the coffee’s not helping,”

he looks up from your foot and seems so confused, so you do him a favour to explain at the best your brain allows you to

by the time the nurse is back, you two had ran through a quick summary of your activities for the past few days, and her cup of water is the perfect solution to a real, dry throat

“patient does not have tetanus, a false alarm, but they’re still gonna require a shot, just in case,”

he gestures to your foot and she looks fairly annoyed, but says nothing at the presence of a doctor

she excuses herself to help out outside, and dr.wong sits back at his desk to wait for the vaccine, while you lay your head down to rest

“I think she hates me,”

he laughs, “nah, we just haven’t had a tetanus case in a while, I think she got too worked up,”

the other nurse comes back with your vaccine, and helps clean up your arm for the injection, “you’re not scared of needles, are you?”

you can taste the amusement in the air, tension lifted and light in the air thanks to his teasing, “patient does not have an infection, but is taking a shot for proper measures, and the high body temp is caused from lack of sleep for days, and a slightly inflamed liver, does not require further care, but a follow up is needed in a month’s time,”

the nurse scribbles your prescription while he stabs your arm with the long needle, and you try your best not to panic

after the nurse leaves the room, you two are left alone once again, and the ambiguous question hangs in the air, “am I allowed to leave now?”

he peers up from his book, “yes, but it’s 5:37am now, and my shift ends at 6; if you could stay a bit longer,” he trails off,

he senses your confusion and hurriedly explains himself, “I’m trying to avoid having breakfast with someone, and I’m no longer needed for emergency cases, it would be nice to have some peace and quiet,”

“you could take a nap-- I’ll wake you at 6,”

“can you put in a good word for me with the nurses?”

“deal.”

“can we eat breakfast too?” words kind of jumbled up from your fatigue

he takes a bit longer to respond, and by the time he does, you don’t hear it-- having already fallen asleep on the white stretcher,

“sure, that’ll be nice.”

[f-nodragonart]

ok wait I have one more rant abt American Dragon and I swear I’m done, but the whole concept of a ‘leader’ dragon for every country is very.... strange to me

like ok, suspension of disbelief for vague hand-wavey magic, or the existence of magical creatures, etc. fine fine. but the whole PREMISE of the show is built around the concept of an American Dragon-- yet that concept is so incredibly, frustratingly vague. like I said in my original review, I’m willing to excuse a lot for a simple kid’s show that isn’t looking to worldbuild super deeply, but the main premise at the VERY least should have SOME planning behind it

for one, the physical size and population distribution of each country varies WILDLY across the globe, it’s honestly stupid to assign the same number of ‘leader’ dragons (one) to each, and expect each dragon to serve their respective country to the same degree of competence. the US is a fuckin MASSIVE country w/ two states disconnected from the mainland, and SEVERAL different biomes that have contributed to diverse sets of populations (which would likely be reflected among magical creatures as well, culturally and biologically-speaking). it’s ridiculous to expect ONE dragon to serve, represent, and protect ALL those populations

and the thing is, Jake DOESN’T do that! he’s a New York Dragon at best. the only times I remember him helping out w/ magical emergencies out-of-state are when he’s traveling for personal reasons (like visiting family) or when he’s tending to dragon council business, in which case most dragons across the world are gathering there too (not to mention these instances are generally out-of-country)

having a ‘leader’ dragon assigned to a bio/cultural region without even bothering with human borders would make FAR more sense (esp since the dragons don’t even wanna bother w/ the human world anyways, so why are they assigning things based on human constructs??). hell, there could even still be dragons representing larger areas too, so long as it was established that they’re the more broad-scope representatives that must regularly convene with the dragon representatives of the smaller regions under their jurisdiction. this would assure that each dragon is truly an intimate member of the communities they’re assigned to, rather than some outsider intruding on important matters that they simply can’t understand w/o cultural context. this especially makes sense if we assume that dragon forms are magical/psychological projections of the cultural society that a given dragon is raised in, rather than a *strictly* biological body whose traits are genetically inherited (tho like I said in my main review, I’m rly doubtful of that actually being canon to the show...)

now, it would admittedly be p cool if the show took the time to pull Jake across the nation to explore different cultural/ecological regions and the magical creatures within. but that’s expecting a lot from a show that only establishes that Jake is part-Chinese on the most shallow of levels, and fails to explore Chinese culture in any intimate manner beyond ONE(1) episode about the Chinese new year. like, the bar is on the ground, here

and even if some attention had been paid to America’s diverse cultural settings, I’d still be skeptical of Jake being able to handle the whole nation on his own. hell, I’m skeptical of an ADULT dragon being able to handle a nation as huge as the US, much less a tween handling the whole thing. I already take huge issue w/ kid’s shows framing dangerous, mature situations as “normal” responsibilities for children to encounter and just “get over”, as if they’re as commonplace and simple as like, studying for class. so every time Jake is reprimanded for not managing his time properly when he’s running on 10 min of sleep after facing off against angry trolls, or trying to take some free time for himself when he’s missed out on every other chance at a normal middle school milestone, I genuinely seethe w/ rage

at least w/ most other kid’s shows there’s some explanation I can accept for the main character having to go through that kinda stress. like w/ Danny Phantom, Danny unfortunately goes thru a freak accident, and he can’t tell his ghost-hunting parents abt it for fear that they might tear him apart for science or misguided protection, and he decides on his own that he has some responsibility to use his powers for active good (tho DP still pulls the “ghost-fighting is just like balancing school and a social life!” bullshit that I HATE..). or w/ Steven Universe, all this responsibility was thrust on Steven by adults who didn’t understand the consequences of their actions or had no other choice, and Steven’s currently dealing w/ the massive emotional fallout of having his childhood stolen from him

but with American Dragon, like... this shit is PLANNED. the council carefully CHOOSES the dragon for each nation-- these adults have a RESPONSIBILITY to both a whole WORLD of magical creatures AND their dragon subordinates to choose capable, mature dragons to lead the magical world. and for some reason they decide that this responsibility should fall on the shoulders of LITERAL CHILDREN?? who was the previous American Dragon? where the hell are they now? (Neopuff pointed out to me that Jake is in fact the first AD, which is even even more suspect than before! what!!) even if Jake is chosen to be a potential future AD, why does he have to take on that full responsibility now?? why isn’t a seasoned adult taking care of the bulk of responsibilities until Jake grows up??? like I get that children’s power fantasies hit different when ur an adult b/c u can recognize what responsibilities a child shouldn’t have to deal with-- I GET that it’s good to let children explore mature responsibilities in fiction, I’m not arguing that. but these responsibilities should at LEAST make sense in-context, and NO adult should have knowingly thrust these duties on literal children w/o some DAMN good explanation for why they literally CAN’T assign dragon duties to adults. not to mention that the whole, “you’re selfish and need to learn better time management skills,” thing is such an insidious message to direct at kids who should literally only be expected to... be kids? I’m SO fucking mad abt this!!!

and don’t even get me STARTED on the fact that Jake is being trained by the Chinese Dragon, and Haley by the Korean Dragon. like, again, the show establishes that there’s only one ‘leader’ dragon for every nation, and that Lao Shi and Sun are the current dragons of their respective countries-- they haven’t resigned, as far as we know. so like, what happened to China and Korea (and now that I think abt it, which Korea??)? they just don’t have dragon protectors? fuck them, I guess, they’re on their own now? b/c training American dragons is so much more important than protecting their own countries? b/c a Chinese and Korean dragon somehow have better knowledge of American magical communities than the dragons that have actually been living there and presumably been serving those communities for decades (and b/c every Asian country is apparently interchangeable, so a Korean dragon is obviously perfectly fit to understand the cultural background of part-Chinese dragons)? hello???

now I AM at least willing to consider that perhaps the dragon council runs on enough shallow bureaucracy that their predecessors just arbitrarily decided to assign a single, young dragon to each country, and the current council is too stubborn to change that tradition even in the face of its clear problems. like, actual real-life political systems are absolutely fucked, so it tracks that a fantasy political system could be similarly broken. this doesn’t explain all the fuckshit, but it might at least explain some of the fuckshit. BUT none of these problems are ever brought up in the show, so we have to assume that they are somehow, canonically......... not actually problems..... ugh.............

and none of this even BEGINS to tackle the weird dragon monarchy over all magical-kind. like this obviously isn’t exclusive to AD, u see this sorta bloodline-bound authority thing in a LOT of western fantasy media. but the fact that the dragon council seems so utterly incompetent when u pick apart all the above issues, I’m just sitting here like... how have the trolls/elves/merfolk/etc. not guillotined y’all yet? lmfao

-Mod Spiral

[batb1tch]

It’s my boy’s birthday so here are some Jason Todd head-canons 🎉

Probably 3rd to last (Alfred and Bruce) on the list of ‘understanding internet slang’ in the household. He died and just sort of fell behind on the times (including memes, pop culture references,etc..) I know he’s known for making snarky quips and sarcastic comments but I have no doubt his siblings would call him out on his outdated references. It’s likely it’d really piss him off too like, knowledge is really everything to this kid and here he is with a group of teenagers who are always on top of shit (Steph, Tim, Duke, even Dick) and he doesn’t know what they’re talking about the majority of the time. Can’t figure out how to use Twitter or Snapchat and he does not have the patience to learn. It’s a genuine sore spot for him regardless of the humorous side.

Has an inner city accent that will never leave him. Still pronounce “on” like “awn” and frequently drops his r’s (which Bruce acts like he hates but really he finds it endearing.) Drops his “ing”s like “nothing” is “nothin.”

Fantastic chef, learned from the best. Very good at making something out of nothing and making it last. Steph has been showing him how to can things like fruit and vegetables. She’s basically just enabled his doomsday prepping behavior.

Speaking of, if you think Bruce is bad with the backup plans (yes there is always a b c d — z) where do you think Jay got it from? Absolutely anal about planning and contingencies. Has a backup for his backups.

Has a small hoard of books hidden in an end-table back at one of his safe houses. His favorite classics (mostly gifted by Bruce.)

Loves the smell of paper.

Definitely could use them but refuses to get glasses. Babs teases him for his squinting when she gets the chance.

“Just join the club book-worm, promise it won’t ruin your badass reputation.”

Jason ~squinting~ “I’d rather die....again.”

Collects cool bookmarks.

Definitely names his guns.

Favorite meal is literally any Spanish/Mexican dish followed by a good chili dog & a coke.

Can pack away enough food to feed a horse and keep going, not even Bruce knows how he does it. Alfred acts like he’s a pain in the ass to cook for but loves feeding him anyways. “You’ll eat us out of house and home someday my dear boy, good god.”

While we’re at it, he is 100% taller and wider than Bruce. You might think it makes Bruce a bit uncomfortable when standing right next to him (I mean...it does lol) but he absolutely loves when Jay throws his weight around because the malnourished string-bean of a child that he met on the street could now powerlift a small automobile and he is so fucking proud and happy that he grew up to be big and healthy (that he managed to grow up AT ALL mind you) how could he be mad? He probably tears up at the dinner table after Jay fills his plate for 4th time that evening and still intends to stay for dessert because he loVES HIM.

His feet definitely hang off the end of his bed by like, the shins because his room only has a full compared to everyone else’s king/queen. It never got upgraded when he hit puberty (because he was dead) and then he wouldn’t let anyone change it once he came back because that’s his bed “don’t fucking touch it I still fit just fine.” (Even though he’s like 22 and there’s a dip in the mattress that could put the Grand Canyon to shame.)

Still has a picture of Catherine hidden away. Visits her grave on the anniversary and always brings her favorite flowers (Lillie’s.)

His hands get cold really easily and they’re always dry/calloused.

Snores. Loudly.

The Lazarus pit did NoT heal his autopsy scar that shit is there for life and it is big and it is ugly. He doesn’t like taking his shirt off because of it and the look on Bruce’s face when he sees it could strip wallpaper.

Stopped dying the lock of white hair on his head.

Has spring allergies that turn him into a giant snotting watery eyed whiny baby.

He’s claustrophobic and not a fan of the dark. It’s why his helmet has night vision.

(While we’re at it, that helmet has to be the equivalent of like, iron mans on the inside. Definitely has built in comms, scopes, analysis systems, navigation, etc etc. the WORKS. whICH he designed and created himself because he’s brilliant.) (Actually Roy might have helped a little but don’t tell him that.)

Has a work-in-progress bike in the cave that hasn’t been finished for over 2 years and it will never be finished because he uses it as an excuse to hangout and spend time with Bruce. Drives Steph crazy to see it sit there but she gets it.

During his first Thanksgiving with Bruce and Alfred he cried for 15 minutes before dinner (which he’s still embarrassed about to this day) and then ate until he literally puked. He hasnt missed many Thanksgivings since he died.

TERRIBLE at 1st-person-shooters and super pissed about it.

“That’s not even realistic, an HK-416 doesn’t even have a 200 round drum. It’s bonkers! It’s madness Tim!”

“Shut the fuck up Jason you haven’t even been facing the right way since we started.”

(He’ll stick to Space Invaders and Mario fuck you very much.)

Really good at piano. Bruce asked him to start playing seriously when he moved in because “learning a musical instrument teaches self -discipline and versatility” but really it’s because one day during his Robin years Jay sat down and started plinking on the keys to a song he learned at the public youth-center on the “old shitty out of tune” wood one they had and it just happened to be a song Martha used to play Bruce all the time. He wanted to hear it fill the halls again.

Gets in a screaming match with Bruce nowadays and instead of lighting up one of Penguin’s underground casinos (like he might of used to 👀) he’ll disappear for a month to cool down. You can always tell when he gets over it though because he sends the family a postcard from wherever he is in the world. (Alfred puts them all on the fridge.)

Pit symptoms used to (and occasionally still do) include horrific night terrors, black-out rage, and brief moments of hallucinations or flashbacks. He had to relive the period of time shortly after he was pulled out through graphic and warped recollections (typically after not getting enough sleep or engaging in physical altercations.) He really only started to work through this after Ducra had suggested keeping a log and writing down everything he could remember. After a time he was able to piece together the things he had experienced or done (mostly to others) and as awful and horrible as knowing may have been, he could at least start to move on.

The more time he spent with Damian after he came back the more he could remember as well. He will occasionally speak to him in Arabic & not even realize he’s doing it (which scares the pants of Dames, himself, and Bruce.)

He does feel closer to the little gremlin because of it though. Talia likely had him as a baby with her the majority of the time after he was born and Jay was recovering/training, so he spent a substantial amount of time with both of them.

Bruce bought him a kindle for Christmas one of the first years he was back and he was (and still is but don’t tell the old man that) elated.

Occasionally mumbles in his sleep, usually in a variety of languages.

He does smoke, mostly only when he gets stressed out (because everyone reams him for it otherwise.) You’d think it’s a rebellious street kid thing but it’s actually because Catherine used to smoke the same brand and the smell reminds him of her.

His shoe size is a 13.

The time shortly after he crawled out of his own grave he could see ghosts (and I’m talking straight up dead people.) He can’t recall much of this or the time spent actually deceased (even after his dunk in the pit) but even now he’ll see things move out of the corner of his eye or get cold chills or feel like he’s being watched. When he hasn’t slept for like, 4 days and is bordering on manic depressive and harmful behavior, he starts seeing them again. Constantine prob finds him real interesting.

My guess is that he did see Catherine when he died but overall ended up in some sort of purgatory-like state which he can’t recall.

When he blushes it’s the hollows of his cheeks, back of the ears and neck and all the way down the front of his chest. The autopsy scar shows up white against it.

Has those hands that no matter how many times he washes them the oil/gun cleaner doesn’t come out of the cracks. Looks like a mechanic.

Tends to wear thicker work/type clothing like carhart fireproof pants and boots. Obviously his jacket too.

Not a fan of cold weather at all. His nose and cheek get really red and he shivers (as unmanly as that is)

OCD. His apartments are spotless, weapons and ammunition categorized and logged, etc.

Had asthma as a child and sort of grew out of it but sometimes his endurance suffers as an adult because of it.

Has this particular phone case 💀

[ladyplantpots]

Something I promised to write for @ill-go-with-that-then !

Retirement

Hizashi takes the blindfold off Shouta gently, fingers shaking with nerves, before smiling and stepping backwards.

'Ta.. Ta-da.'

Blinking once, twice, Shouta looks around. He is... Standing in a garden? His fingers loosen around his cane. The remains of the setting sun warm his skin as he takes it all in - he's stood on a tiny cobblestoned path, resting on well-kept grass, surrounded by bright and beautiful plants. A cluster of sunflowers to his right stands proudly by a hand carved wooden bench, just enough room to sit two adults. Hizashi's car waits just at the entrance to the garden, which is surrounded by a simple and sturdy wooden picket fence.

The garden, Shouta quickly notes, must be situated on the very outskirts of the city - there is hardly any noise pollution, and the drive from their city-centre flat had taken a long time, though Shouta did have to wear the blindfold the whole time, so his estimates may be a little wrong. A couple of birds happily sing to one another as a plane lazily flies overhead.

The garden itself quite obviously belongs to the small cottage behind Hizashi. The building is just as impressive as the garden, a warm looking, painted-brick home with two large windows at either side of a simple wooden door. Outside each window sits an array of small potted plants, and Shouta offhandedly notes that they are all sporting colours he's quite fond of.

Hizashi has stayed quiet this entire time, nervously rubbing his hands together as he looks at his feet.

"Are we here to visit someone?" Shouta asks. His voice is soft, confused. Hizashi has been strange for the better part of a month now, ever since Shouta had finally announced his forced retirement to the public. Fifty two wasn't an awful age to retire, he'd supposed. He had certainly done his part, as Hizashi had told him again and again. Hizashi had been waiting on Shouta to retire from hero work, and announced his own retirement one week after Shouta.

Hizashi still does his radio show - after all, he does own one of Japan's most popular stations, and they both drop into UA every now and again to give lectures. But that's it.

In general, Shouta has mainly been working on healing. His leg will never regain full function, and he's coming to terms with that slowly. He has enough wages to comfortably retire with. He's saved an okay amount, nothing crazy, but enough.

Hizashi clears his throat and shakes his head.

"Um. N... No. This..."

Shouta waits patiently, though not without concern. It was perhaps the most nervous he has seen Hizashi, bar the mans' marriage proposal many years ago. Hizashi quickly sucks in a long breath, running his hands through his long hair, which is now a softer yellow than in the prime of his hero days.

"Sho," Hizashi finally says. Shouta smiles. "You... You've been there for me for as long as I can remember. Through every one of my worst days, and every one of my best - when - when I decided to take on three jobs, you supported me even though I know you hated it. When I had to leave Japan for two years, you waited for me. You were right there with me in that first disgusting apartment we ever owned. You sat right by me when I was in a coma. Right there until I woke up. You - God, you've shown me such unconditional love since day one, and every day I wake up next to you, Shouta? It's a blessing."

Shouta furrows his brow, reaching forward and placing his free hand on his husband's cheek.

"You do realise we're already married? You can't really propose again, dear."

Hizashi barks out a watery laugh, before shaking his head.

"Shouta, this... This is the surprise." Hizashi gestures to the garden, and to the cottage. Shouta isn't sure he could be more confused.

"Every paycheck I every got, I put a little bit of it aside," Hizashi continues. "Every late night, every dangerous villain, every marked test - it all contributed to this. To... To our new home. To here."

Shouta tears his eyes away from his husband and looks to the cottage. This quiet, beautiful place away from the hustle and the sirens and the screaming neighbours. Shouta's eyes are wide as he tries to understand, and Hizashi fills the silence.

"I... I've been working on this on and off for years, y'know. Planning with builders and contractors and the odd lawyer or two for the best way to go about this. I never thought just how massive this project would be. And of course, I - fuck, please don't think this was something I would hide from you in a weird, sneaky way! I just - I, I just." Hizashi bites his lip hard.

"I just want you to live your best life, in a home you deserve. No life-threatening hero work. No midnight emergency calls. I want you to wake up safe, warm, and happy. This - every single brick, every single flower, and absolutely every tiny moment of peace - it's here, for you."

Shouta doesn't quite know what to do with himself. So much presented at once - Hizashi had built a home? One that wasn't a dingy cramped flat like they're used to, smashed above and below noisy neighbours? Where did he find the time for this? How? 

Hizashi has turned away from Aizawa and walked to the front door. Unlocking it, still obviously very nervous, he manages a grand bow.

"Perhaps look around?"

Shouta walks into the house, his cane clutched tightly. He feels a lump wedge firmly in his throat, and soon, he stands in a living room filled with diminishing sunlight. Nearly every surface is draped in warm and beautiful cloths and throws, a huge plump sofa is sat under the window before a television. His gaze falls on a cat sleeping in a sunbeam on the windowsill - their cat. Ghost, a one-eyed persian they'd had for years. "I brought her here this morning," Hizashi supplied with a chuckle. 

Shouta can only blink as he moves to the next room - the kitchen, which Hizashi has elected to paint a citrus green. It's full of fresh food, all Shouta's favourites, and there's even a special shelf for juice packets. A small, sweet dining table sits in the centre of the room, placements set for two, with a single rose placed between them. He stands there in silence, until Hizashi clears his throat behind him.

"You haven't seen the bedroom yet."

Hizashi leads Shouta to a wooden door down a very short hallway from the living room, and waits. He looks incredibly nervous again, and Shouta can feel it coming off him in waves. Straightening himself up, Shouta takes a breath and swings open the door.

His cane thumps on the carpet as he brings his hands to his chest. 

Hizashi has managed to model the entire bedroom on the first one they had ever gotten together, just after they had graduated. Shouta feels himself reliving almost 30 years ago - both men had managed to get a flat together, just as they had started dating, and it was awful - an old dingy flat, both men had hated it, until one day Shouta had come home from hero work to find Hizashi had stuck sticker-stars all over their bedroom ceiling, and had bought so many comfy throws and pillows for the bed he could hardly see it. He had even stuck posters of bands they were both into at the time all over the walls to cover the cracks. 

Shouta remembers smiling so wide it hurt that night, and as he and Hizashi had curled up together under the stars that had been painstakingly applied to the ceiling, Shouta remembers telling Hizashi it was the most beautiful room he could have hoped to stay in.

Of course, the room Shouta now stands in has no cracks - instead, it has heating and beautifully wallpapered walls, but, all their old music posters are hung up too, torn and faded with time, each preserved in a glass frame, and the double bed is covered in throws and pillows, achingly similar to what Shouta can remember from so long ago - but it's the stars that really hit him. Each star is painstakingly applied, hundreds of them, though rather than stickers, these ones are all painted on. 

Shouta doesnt even bother asking if Hizashi did that part all on his own, he knows the answer. And at that moment, he's hit with another memory, just as Shouta steps further into the room. When they had first gotten their gross flat, Hizashi at the time had thought it funny to write on the wall. Just above their bed, a note for Shouta. And sure enough, now Shouta can see familiar black writing over their bed, and he already knows what it says before he even reads it. 

 'I, Yamada Hizashi, love Aizawa Shouta forever and ever, more than all the stars in the big dumb sky!' 

Shouta whips around, eyes wider than he thought possible. Hizashi is just standing there with that dorky look he knows so well, pulling at his hair a little, so utterly nervous it's painful. And they stay like that a moment, just one moment, as the summer evening air drifts through the house and Ghost pads into the room and jumps onto the bed. 

 And then Shouta crumples to the floor, his face buried in his hands. 

"Shouta!" Hizashi darts forward, practically throwing himself down next to his husband and wrapping his arms around him, and for the first time in a very long while, Shouta can feel tears freely fall down his face. 

"For me? You did this all, for me?" Hizashi laughs and holds Shouta tighter, brushing his thick dark hair back from his eyes, and of course he’s crying too. 

"Without a doubt, Sho. Everything in this home, I did with you in my heart. It's yours."

 And there's not even a pause as Shouta corrects Hizashi, his voice thick and full of so much love it could construct an entire universe. 

"Ours, ‘Zashi. It's ours." 

[violetsmoak]

Appetence [11/?]

AO3 Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/20251420/chapters/47997634

Blanket Disclaimer

Summary: Red Robin is investigating the disappearance of a friend and stumbles into a spot of supernatural trouble. He doesn’t expect to be saved by Jason Todd, miraculously alive five years after his death and now with the inexplicable ability to commune with the dead. Meanwhile, when Jason returned to Gotham he meant to maintain a low profile and not get involved with Bat business. That was before he found out how hot his Replacement is.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

JayTimBingo Prompts This Chapter: #haunting #paranormal investigator

First Chapter

Beta Reader: I’ll get back to you on that.

Author’s Note: I decided to upload this today instead of tomorrow as I have a final paper due Friday and if I'm gonna concentrate on finishing it and not writing fanfic, I need to put this up now :P Enjoy the BatFam feels.

________________________________________________________________

 A day later and Jason is still stewing in anger—and, if he’s being honest—a bit of hurt. Even after reuniting, even after listening to what Jason had to say, and trying to get him to come home—Bruce still can’t be convinced to deal with the Joker.

Or at the very least stand aside and let Jason do it.

It’s like he’s trying to protect my non-existent virtue or some kind of innocence I never really had.

Does Bruce even actually remember him anymore? Or has he built up some false memory in his head that’s turned the boy Jason was into some clone of Dick?

The obvious, adult way of finding out would be to drive over to the manor and go for Round Two in confronting Bruce, but that’s a journey he’s not ready to take yet. Especially since the emotionally stunted man child that is the Dark Knight might take that as Jason coming to grovel for forgiveness, which just…no.

It’s decided. Jason will sit and sulk in his office and pretend Bruce and all of his Bat-drama doesn’t exist. He has work to do, anyhow.

The phone rings and Jason smirks.

“Like I said,” he tells himself smugly and picks it up, leaning back in his chair with his feet on the desk. “Beyond Investigations, Victor Shelley speaking.”

“First of all, you have a really warped sense of humor choosing that as your civilian identity,” a familiar voice tells him, and Jason’s stomach flips a little as he nearly slides off his chair.

“Well, if it isn’t my esteemed former stalker,” he drawls, then winces because it’s not exactly his best line. “You can’t tell me it’s not funny, in the gallows kind of way.”

“If you wanted gallows, I’m surprised you didn’t go with Vlad Stoker,” Tim Drake remarks.

“That would be cliché. And Stoker’s overrated. Also, he once demanded all the gay writers be imprisoned, which ain’t cool,” Jason replies with an easy enjoyment. “But I doubt you’re calling to talk early horror literature with me. Gotta say, it’s the first time I’ve ever waited more than two days for someone to call me when I give them my number.”

Shit. That was a little more flirting than he intended.

“That leads to second of all,” Tim says, either missing the innuendo or ignoring it completely. “Care to explain why, after you asked me not to say anything to B about you being here, you ratted me out to him?”

That’s…not what he was expecting. Jason sits up, suddenly serious. “Ratted you out? What are you talking about?”

“He came back home after that thing downtown with Freeze yesterday completely shaken because he ran into you, and apparently you let it slip that I knew you were back and didn’t tell anyone.”

There’s more than a little irritation in Tim’s voice there, and Jason’s heart picks up a bit in worry. He thinks back to the encounter the night before, trying to figure out when he would have outed Tim. He can’t think of anything.

Then he remembers his parting words.

The blood rushes to his face.

If Bruce figured out he was talking about Tim with such a throwaway comment, he worries what else he might have inferred.

Don’t think about it too closely. Worry about putting Tim in his crosshairs.  

He groans. “Sorry, my bad.”

“Apparently I should have been the one asking for a week’s grace,” Tim goes on dryly.

“Honestly, I wasn’t thinking,” Jason tells him. “Talkin’ to B always gets my blood pressure up, and then my mouth just starts to run.”

“No kidding.”

“He didn’t give you too much trouble, did he?”

There’s a pause, and then, “No more than normal. A couple of years ago that sort of thing would have really messed with my head, but these days I can deal.”

“What happened a couple of years ago?”

Tim pauses again, and even though Jason can’t sense auras or ghosts through telephone lines, he’s pretty sure that the dark aura constantly surrounding the younger man is behind that.

“Let’s just say I learned that Brue can be myopic about certain things,” Tim says at last. “Either he’s entirely focused on what’s right in front of him, or some arbitrary future end game. He doesn’t really…absorb the things that happen between those two points.”

Jason blinks. “That’s a scary kind of accurate.”

“That’s what I do. I think and I know things.”

Jason can’t hold back a scoff.

“Did you…did you just misquote Game of Thrones?”

Tim lets out a somewhat startled laugh. “I guess I did. Totally unintentional, I promise. Although, you get points for catching it.”

“Points for what? Is there a prize?”

 “Even if there was, I’d be keeping it. I’m still ticked off at you for telling on me to B.”

“And I still feel bad about that. I owe you a drink.”

No, no you don’t. No drinks, no nothing. Off-limits, remember?

“Still not old enough to drink, Jason,” Tim replies, voice sounding less irritated and weary and more…amused? Fond even?

Then he hangs up, leaving Jason staring at the receiver of his phone in puzzled frustration.

“This isn’t going to end well for me, is it?”

“No,” Sheila tells him from where she’s lingering across the room, “it’s not.”

Jason lets his head fall onto his desk.

With the ice now broken with Tim and Bruce (or at least as broken as it can get given the latter’s inability to process anything resembling emotions), Jason pretty knows his days of privacy are likely at an end.

He completely expects the requisite visitations of various Family members who will no doubt have been told he’s alive.

Both the ones I knew and the one I didn’t…

If he weren’t pretending indifference, he would have expected Dick to be the first to show up, all passion and anger. He doesn’t have many memories of his predecessor-slash-older-brother-figure where he wasn’t furious about something—almost always Bruce related. To Jason, he only seemed to have two settings: coddling and wanting to pick a fight.

Jason’s not sure which of those he wants to encounter just now.

Turns out his intuition about Dick being his first visit is completely off.  

Instead, he wakes one night from a dead sleep by a sense of presence, both physical and spectral.

There’s a kid standing at the edge of his futon, swathed in Robin’s colors but with the aura of a predator lying in wait. He can’t be more than twelve, and there’s just something about the set of his shoulders and clench of his jaw that screams Bruce.

He’s also not alone.

Outside the open window that the kid obviously used to break in, a ghostly figure in a voluminous green robe looms, hissing imprecations at Jason’s wards from the decapitated head it holds in its hands.

Jason blinks, intrigue cutting through his sleep-dulled senses. Considering the kid is Talia’s, he obviously has some League of Assassins training. Given that, Jason would have expected there to be a lot more ghosts following the kid around. Either he hasn’t killed very many people beyond the one by the window, or the ones he has didn’t leave anything unfinished.

Either way, this brat’s dangerous.

“You know who I am?” Robin challenges although it’s more a statement of fact.

“Chip off the old block is what you are,” Jason grumbles, sitting up—slowly, in case the hard-looking kid thinks he’s about to try something. He’d rather not get into another Wayne beatdown so soon after his encounter with Bruce. “Did he actually teach you the menacing-people-in-the-dark thing, or is it genetic?”

“What is your purpose for returning to Gotham?” the boy demands, ignoring the question.

“Best chili dogs in the world,” Jason shoots back, reaching for the small table beside his fold-out bed and the carton of cigarettes there.

“Stow your flippant remarks, Todd, I will have my answer whether you give it voluntarily or after I’ve loosened a few of your teeth.”

“Big words for someone probably still losing their own baby teeth. What are you, six?”

“I won’t tolerate any attempts to shove your way back into Father’s life,” the boy insists. “We already have one failure lingering about where he shouldn’t be, no need for a second.” He pauses, tilts his head to one side, and his mouth pulls into a cold smirk. “Or rather, you were the first, weren’t you?”

Jason narrows his eyes. “You know there’s a headless guy in a green curtain following you around, right? I’d think really hard about what B considers a failure before throwing that word at other people.”

The kid’s mouth goes white around the edges—touchy subject, apparently—and moves into a crouch like he’s about to dive across the room. He pauses though, fingers touching his hear, and then scowls.

“That Daddy calling you out for missing curfew?” Jason prods.

“This isn’t over!” the kid snaps, and then like he’s making a point, whips a Batarang at Jason’s face.

By the time Jason’s reached up to catch it, the brat and his ghost have vanished.

“Well, that was fun,” Jason mutters, bemused and confident he won’t be getting back to sleep any time soon.

He spends the rest of the night and early morning first checking emails and then researching. John sent him a bunch of information on kodoku, the technique Jason couldn’t remember in conjunction with the thing attracting negative energy to Tim.

It’s not exactly what he was thinking of, but even if it doesn’t help him figure out that conundrum, it might offer an inkling or two of how to deal with the ever-present Joker problem.

Need to read up on it more before I can know for sure.

His stomach growls and he decides to table it for now. There’s a 24-hour breakfast place down the street actually does bangers and mash, which he’s been craving since leaving London.

Instead, there’s a knock at the door.

Guess I’m putting off breakfast for a bit longer. Oh well. Potential client.

Jason forces himself to put on a normal, welcoming face and goes to open the door.  

What he doesn’t expect to find is a certain English butler standing in the shitty hallway just outside his office, with a bulky canvas bag in his arms and a disapproving look on his face that only just falters as their eyes meet.

It’s as if the air has been punched out of Jason’s lungs because if there’s anyone he has missed than anyone else since he’s been away, it’s Alfred.

“Master Jason,” the older man says, somehow managing to keep his voice from wavering, and god, he sounds the same. “I am sure in instilled at least a rudimentary etiquette into you as a boy. Therefore, you can imagine my disappointment upon learning you have been in Gotham for several weeks now and did not come to call at the manor.”

Jason can’t hold back the slightly hysterical chuckle at that, because trust Alfred to act like he’s been on some kind of extended vacation, instead of six feet under and insane. Yet, it doesn’t feel as dismissive or repressing as it would from Bruce.

“You know me, Alf,” he says through a suddenly dry mouth. “That stuff never took.”

“So it would seem.”

They exchange looks, both sizing up the other and then Alfred raises an eyebrow. Jason shakes his head like a sleepwalker and indicates the older man should come in.

Alfred moves smoothly across the threshold of the tiny office, frowning at the disarray (and mostly at the futon).

“Given the fact you’ve only recently, er, moved in, I thought it best to arrive with provisions.”

He sets the paper bag down on Jason’s desk and removes a box containing a hot plate, a kettle and what appears to be a package of tea. Though his back is turned, there’s a tension in his shoulders and a minor tremor that, when Jason cranes his head, he realizes are from shaking hands.

When Alfred turns around, Jason can’t hold back from reaching over and enveloping him in a hug.

It’s so different from the awkward thing with Bruce, and even though Alfred has never been the hugging type, he holds Jason just as tightly.

They stay like that for several moments, before Alfred speaks again, his voice tense like he’s speaking around a lump in his throat. “You have certainly grown into your various limbs, my boy.”

“Yeah…yeah, I guess I did…”

Jason tells Alfred everything.

He doesn’t skip any of the details the way he did with Tim and, to an extent, with Bruce. Because the fact is, he doesn’t know Tim, not really, and he knows Bruce too well. Alfred won’t look at him with pity or as something damaged; there’s pain in the way he watches Jason, but also an overwhelming and unquestionable relief.

Alfred isn’t one to cry, but his eyes gleam wetly as Jason relates how he woke in his coffin and the trial of digging himself out.

“I didn’t remember it for a while,” he admits. “Mostly it’s what comes back in nightmares. I guess it’s so clear because it’s the only thing that happened to me for another year. I was in a coma for about as long.”

“And no one knew who you were,” Alfred murmurs dully. “Everyone thought you were already dead.”

“…yeah.”

“My dear boy…if we had known…”

“Can’t change the past, Alf,” Jason shrugs, trying to play it off. “And even if you had known, I wasn’t me for a long time. Wouldn’t have wanted you to go through that.”

“And yet…somehow, you rallied,” Alfred says, determined. “You recovered.”

“I guess you could say that,” Jason says with a bitter twist of the mouth. “Not sure people would call seeing ghosts ‘recovered’.” He exhales. “I do see ‘em, Alf—all the time. I didn’t know what it was I the beginning, and…that made things harder. I was so out of it; I couldn’t tell when I was talking to someone alive or someone dead. Everyone at the hospitals thought I was insane. Bet you can guess what happened next.”

“Master Timothy…was reluctant to tell me when I asked,” the old man admits. “I’m astounded anyone in the system would have thought Arkham of all places was the appropriate place for you.” He clenches his fists together, no doubt imagining using them on whoever made that particular decision. “But Mr. Constantine, he rescued you?”

“Yeah,” Jason leans back, crossing his arms. “If he hadn’t shown up, I’d still be rotting away there. It was completely by chance, too. An old mate of his called in a favor with him, wanted to prove his sister was possessed and not bat-shit crazy.” Alfred shoots him a reprimanding look and Jason shrugs. “Sorry. Anyway, turns out she was crazy. John was keen to get out of there as soon as possible and happened to pass my room on the way out—he heard me talking to one of my many spectral roommates. He could sense the energy and when he went to look, he could see ‘em too.”

“And thus discovered that your supposed insanity was not quite so clear-cut,” Alfred determines, looking a mite triumphant.

“Not exactly. I’d been driven almost beyond the point of no return by then. If I’d been there much longer, it’d have been too late. But John could tell I was a medium. He decided I wasn’t supposed to be there and busted me out—then decided it’d be dangerous to let me wander around on my own like that. Been with him ever since. Three years of trying to heal what that asshat clown did to my brain and train myself not to lose it when I get rushed by a stampede of dead people.”

“Then I can only be grateful to him,” Alfred says. “Should you speak to Mr. Constantine in the near future, do tell him he will always have a place to stay at the manor should he need it.”

Jason laughs. “I don’t see him coming out this way any time soon. And I doubt B would be open to that arrangement.”

“You let me worry about Master Bruce. As for you—is there any point in reminding you that you also have a place to stay should you tire of this…urban setting?”

“This is my home, Alf,” Jason replies, at least halfway apologetic. “The manor might have...become that if I’d been there longer. Maybe.” He spares a moment’s thought for the little boy that wanted nothing more than to become Batman when he grew up. “But not now. I’m too—I’ve got my own mission now.”

Alfred nods, mouth turned downward. Jason tries to pretend he doesn’t notice the sad gleam in his eye.

“In the hope that your mission is not so all-consuming as Master Bruce’s, I shall still keep a guestroom at the ready. I…suspect returning to your old room would harm more than heal.”

And this is why Jason always loved Alfred. He gets it. Even when he’s hoping for the impossible.

“Guess I can live with that,” Jason says.

 “I do expect you to call for dinner at some point in the future. Perhaps not until you’re more settled. But surely you can sacrifice an hour or two for a pot roast dinner.”

Jason’s mouth immediately waters.

“Oh, that’s playing dirty, old man,” he tells him seriously.

“Having lived in Gotham this long, it’s hardly a surprise that I, too, can affect nefariousness when the occasion calls for it.” There’s a buzzing sound and Alfred digs into his pocket for his mobile phone and then heaves a sigh in a very familiar way. “Master Damian’s school. I’m afraid I must attend to this.”

“Ten o’clock and he’s already in trouble,” Jason whistles. “Beating my old record, huh?”

“You have no idea,” Alfred agrees seriously. He stands then, looks like he wants to hug Jason again but manages to keep control of himself this time. “Seeing you again is a gift, Master Jason. I hope you will allow me to impose on your hospitality again in the future?”

“You’re welcome here any time,” Jason says, warm and sincere. “I’m…it’s really good to see you again, Alf.”

The old man nods then continues to gaze at Jason a few beats longer, as if to make sure he really is seeing him, and then heads for the door. Jason sees him out, watches him until he vanishes around the corner, and then sags heavily against the doorpost to his office.

A bone-deep exhaustion that has nothing to do with sleep deprivation washes over him.

“'Stay under the radar’, I said,” he mutters to himself. “'Don’t let the Family know I’m here'. That was the plan. There was a reason for the plan…”

A reason that was supposed to guard against an estranged father and attractive replacement and loving butler.

(Well, to be fair, he didn’t know that ‘attractive replacement’ was on his list, but it clearly should have been.)

At least I got the really hard reunions out of the way. Except for Barbie, but I doubt she’d drag herself up a flight of stairs just to see me. Might be able to avoid that one a bit longer…

Honestly, he's kind of afraid of having to look Barbara Gordon in the eyes. There's so much pain between them, all caused by the same evil.

As it turns out, Jason’s next visitor is somehow more overwhelming. Or at least starts out that way.

He’s shuffling through the hallway to his door with a bag of take-out that evening, and suddenly the air becomes cold and suffocating. Jason winces, tries to breathe slow and measured against the cold.

“Whoever you are, can you just…stay where you are for a minute?” he grunts, fumbling with his keys to jimmy the door open. Silence is the only response, but he takes that as acquiescence.

Well, that’s rare. A creepy stalker that actually listens.

He practically falls into the office, the constricted sensation in his lungs vanishing as soon as he crosses the threshold.

Wards are still working. Good.

“Okay, you can come in now,” he says, putting his groceries on his desk and turning around.

He almost does a double-take.

The person that glides into his office is a small Asian girl, maybe an inch or two shorter than Tim, and deceptively dainty looking. Deceptive, because Jason can see the ghosts crowding the hallway behind her, clawing at the doorway and keening and cursing at her in a myriad of languages.

“How in the hell does someone that looks like you have that big a body count?” he asks, halfway between impressed and horrified.

The girl’s face remains blank, but her eyes skitter away, as if in shame. Jason immediately feels like a tool.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “Didn’t mean it that way. It’s just…you’re just a kid.”

“Older than you,” she tells him in clear but accented English. She cocks her head to one side, studying him in a way that is almost as invasive as any of the mind-readers he met while working for John. And then she smiles and says, “Little brother.”

Whatever he expected, that wasn’t it. Jason blinks.

“…What.”

She points to herself. “Cassandra. Wayne.”

“Wayne,” he repeats, and then makes the connection and snorts. “Of course. Most people collect stamps. B collects orphans.” He wanders over to his desk and sits down heavily. “What’d he bring you in for? Me, it was boosting tires off the Batmobile.”

Cassandra Wayne’s eyes widen in surprise and then sparkle with amusement and delight.

“So, what brings you here? Come to stare at the clan screw-up?”

“Curious,” she tells him.

“About?”

“They said you see…differently,” she says.

“That’s one way to put it.”

“It’s…comforting,” she says, hesitating on the word like she’s not sure it’s the right one.

“Why’s that?”

“I see different too.”

Jason eyes her, then the myriad ghosts lingering beyond the words. He nods, serious. “I bet you do.”

She smiles at him.

He kind of can’t help be charmed by her, despite the vicious insults being hurled at her by her ghostly entourage.

“Tell you what,” he says. “Close that door so I can hear myself think, and you can stay for supper. I’ve got too much for just me.” He nods at the bags which contain what was supposed to be both tonight’s meal and tomorrow’s lunch. “Not sure if you eat souvlaki, but—”

“I eat anything,” she replies and sits in one of the chairs by his desk.

“Same here,” Jason agrees, handing her one of the Styrofoam containers. “Just promise me you won’t eat it with a fork and knife.”

She makes a face. “I am not Bruce.”

“Thank the gods for small miracles…”

To Be Continued

________________________________________________________________

I want to know what you think of my story! Leave kudos, a comment or if writing comments isn’t something you’re comfortable with, as many of these (or other emojis) as you want and let me know how you feel!

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Reblogging is also majorly appreciated!

[strixobscuro]

Avengers Recover: A Proposal

(Yes, I know it’s a terrible title, but it was the best I could think of...)

Inspired by my annoyance at the way recent Marvel series (namely The Vision and Avengers Undercover) have dealt with issues of addiction and recovery, I began brainstorming my own, probably-never-to-be-published series centered around a treatment center for those like poor Victor Mancha who fall through the cracks and need help. 

The facility is tentatively called the Rock Gardens (I’m not particularly married to the name, but it’s the only one that’s stuck so far), and in my head it’s based in the Hill County area of Texas, partly because I lived out there for a while, but also because it’s a spread-out area that’s less likely to attract supervillain attacks, alien invasions and similar nonsense. The layout is inspired by the facility where I lived - there’s a bunch of sex-segregated dorms, an office building/communal space, and a recreation center.

The program is basic rehab - every day starts and ends with meetings, and most days consist of a mix of group therapy sessions, seminars, and activities, with meals in between. Enrollment lasts between six weeks and several months, with residents being required to be inactive as superheroes for the duration of their stay.

Proposed Staff: 

Drew is a local hero, a member of Texas’ state-sponsored superhero team, the Rangers. Once a severe alcoholic, he was forced to clean up his act after causing a lot of public damage while drunk, but he really got serious about his recovery after a near-death experience during the HYDRA Terrorcarrier attack on Crawford, which sidelined him for several months. Now several years sober, he serves as the campus director for the Rock Gardens.

Henry is a former actor who trashed his career when he got a little too enthusiastic about playing Tony Stark. After cleaning up his act, he became the Marvel Universe’s leading teetotaler, and served for a time in California’s state-sponsored superhero team, the Order. After tragedy struck his team, he rededicated himself to promoting sobriety, and set up a number of recovery centers, including the Rock Gardens, where he serves as the executive director. He has been distracted lately, busy overseeing the refurbishment of his flagship center, Mulholland Field in California.

Terrance is one of the country’s foremost experts on trauma, which is probably not surprising, given that he is cursed with the ability to weed out people’s deepest fears and manifest them. For a time, he served the Initiative, trying to use his abilities to help people, but when the Initiative was taken over by supervillains who forced him to rubber-stamp their abuses, he grew disillusioned and quit. He now works as one of the Rock Gardens’ resident therapists, specializing in identifying triggers.

Woodstock was once Los Angeles’ top late-night TV host who dabbled with superheroism, but a near-death experience coupled with an assassination scandal brought her career to an abrupt end. When her friends in X-Statix all died, she decided to get the hell out of LA and now serves as an administrator for the Gardens, making sure that every

Rachel is a former music teacher and a mutant with the ability to manipulate others with her violin. Between her blue skin, her powers, and a criminal past, she’s had difficulty fitting in, but she worked to clean up her life and now works as an music therapy instructor and security personnel - her music can calm people quickly when tempers flare.

Proposed Residents:

Ritchie is a former wrestler and superhero. A bad mix of a toxic mentor figure and a disastrous early superhero career drove him to alcoholism, culminating in him becoming famous for being the first superhero to be arrested under the SHRA. Getting your ass handed to you by Tony Stark in front of God only knows how many witnesses is a pretty damned hard bottom to hit. He worked for years to get his act together, and even managed to step into a leadership during the Serpent crisis a few years ago, but after his mentor appeared to return from the dead, he fell back into the kind of thinking that pushed him into alcoholism in the first place, so now he’s at the Gardens. Ritchie’s that guy you encounter in 12-step meetings who knows all the literature, all the vocabulary, and all the rules, but he still doesn’t have the humility or the willingness to change that underpins a successful recovery.

Sharon used to be Ms. Marvel, and then she was She-Thing. Now she keeps switching back and forth between the two identities, which has made a mess of her life, and thus she’s come to the Gardens in hopes of learning to integrate her two halves. Sharon is an example of an all-too-common story in addiction, the addict who keeps turning to compulsive behaviors (in her case, switching between superheroism and supervillainy) to stabilize a mental health issue.

Jeanne was a promising student at Avengers Academy with the ability to retain large amounts of information and copy any movement she sees, but her profound mental abilities have a downside - she is apparently fated to start losing her memories by the time she’s thirty. In a bid to make the most of the time she apparently has left, she threw herself into work after leaving the Academy, but this eventually caught up to her and she suffered profound exhaustion and started having trouble thinking, which gave her a considerable health scare. She thus checked herself into the Gardens as a workaholic, seeking to learn a healthier balance between working and rest.  

Klara used to be a Runaway before her friends abandoned her. Like a lot of abuse survivors, she has built up self-defense mechanisms. Unlike most abuse survivors, her self-defense mechanisms involve subconsciously summoning violent plant life, and after a string of “sudden atrium incidents” in foster homes, she has been sent to the Rock Gardens, the nearest facility with Soames retrofitting to keep her powers from acting up at night. Klara is what some people in recovery circles like to call an adult child - due to a persistent lack of a stable environment, her emotional and psychological development has not occurred along regular lines, and so in some ways she’s very mature for an 13-year-old, but in other places, she’s slightly behind.

Katie is the daughter of U-Go Girl, a famous mutant superheroine, except that she only found this out recently, having grown up believing that U-Go Girl was her big sister. After inheriting her mom’s old journals, she learned the truth, and realized that her mother palmed her off on her grandparents in order to become a superhero. She didn’t take it well. She is a mutant, too, with the ability to teleport objects onto her body, and she used this to become a shoplifter. Unfortunately for her, she also inherited her mother’s notoriously low stamina, and after passing out in the middle of a spree, she got arrested. Thankfully, her family’s lawyer kept her out of juvie, but in exchange, she had to agree to a stint at the Gardens. She is ostensibly there to learn not to be a budding kleptomaniac, but what she really needs to learn is to let go of her anger.

Michael is the son of Wallow, one of Ghost Rider’s old enemies. When he was a little kid, his dad murdered his mom and tried to kill him and his sister, but was shot dead by the police. Fifteen years later, his dad’s ghost possessed him and tried to push him towards suicide. He survived, but you can imagine the kind of issues that being possessed by your dead father might incur. On top of the usual psychological issues, Michael has gained the ability to stir up fear, anxiety and depression in others. Michael symbolizes the concept of the family disease, the tendency for addictions or mental illnesses to pass down from one generation to the next.

Obviously, this is a work in progress, and I may need to adjust the lineup (I’m already a bit wobbly on Ritchie, because he appeared in comics recently, and Michael, because there’s not a lot of information about him on the Internet...)

[eenefangirlanalysis]

And finally we catch up with Jonny 55 minutes into the film. What has he been doing all that time? Are they trying to give off the vibe that this scene is taking place during the same time as the kids? Well, that may be viable theory as he has to wait for a long amount of time at the end of this scene.

Take one last look at the cul-de-sac. It’s the final time we’ll ever see it.

It almost looks rather faded as if it were a ghost or mist covering it. You all know how I love coming the Eds with Stephen King stories.

Jonny and Plank, or Captain Melonhead and Splinter, run into town.

Jonny chucks a melon through the sky.

I took a screenshot of this as we see a date. 1955, the year Marty McFly traveled back to. Ooh, connection? 

1955 must have been when the stores in the town were established.

The water melon smashes to the ground.

Is this Jonny’s signal as Captain Melonhead? I wish we could have learned more about his alternate ego. He’s living two lives. It’s never revealed why Jonny has taken on this mask. He wanted to the keep the kids safe from the Eds scamming them which never happened. 

He’s obviously not doing it for attention. Jonny built that whole melon fortress for himself. He’d rather be a loner then spend time with the kids. He’s obvious to towards how the kids feel about him. Then again, he does have two personalities. I remember Jonny wore a sad look when Kevin told him to give his act a rest. 

Now that I think about it Jonny went on this journey alone. Rolf is only trying to prove to himself and his family that he can make a whole journey on his own and can live up to his ancestors. Jonny is trying to get to the Eds first in order to impress the kids who ignored him all through the first act. That you gives you a clue how Jonny is being treated as of lately. 

Jonny looks inside a mail box.

Well, the Eds did hide in a mailbox once.

The famous candy store!

Oh, the nostalgia.

Instead of looking inside the store Jonny peaks inside gum ball machine.

Again, Jonny is not so far off.Edd and Eddy did hide inside a prize grabber scam machine.

Plank has something to tell Jonny.

“What do you mean we ain't gettin’ no where?”

I love the use of this close intimate shot of Jonny. And I like how it’s two separate shots of Jonny and Plank.

I have always believed that whenever Plank ‘speaks’ it’s Jonny’s conscious. Jonny’s split personality theory also plays a good role. There has always been something a little off about Jonny. He gets wackier over the course of the series and can’t take anything seriously.Jonny interacted with the kids much more in the earlier seasons until now he only hangs out by himself.

In the beginning Jonny knew Plank wasn’t real. I struggle between theories on whether on not Jonny’s parents gave him Plank to cope with his social anxiety or Jonny found Plank as a toddler. Jonny’s parents are hardly ever mentioned. They don’t feel like they’re there. Fans have discussed that Jonny’s parents could share his eccentricities.

Jonny claims that it’s tradition to freeze the whole house on Christmas. He never specifies if it’s a family tradition or not. I don’t get the feeling that they’re ever present during the holiday special nor during Plank’s party in Between a Rock and an Ed Place. 

Jonny needs more attention for his mental downfall especially when it comes to the end of this film.

Plank ‘pulls’ Jonny down the street.

I go back and forth on whether Plank is alive. I’ve always believed that it is really Jonny doing magic tricks whenever Plank supposedly moves.

Then again, this series is exaggerated. Maybe Jonny is really running. If he believes that Plank is pulling him then that’s what he wants to tell people. Jonny lives in a very confused world. 

Planks comes to a halt making Jonny smash to the ground.

I don’t think I will count this as self harm. 

for all we know maybe Jonny slammed into the pole and fell to the ground.

An intimidating bus stop sign stands in front of Jonny.

Jonny returns to Captain Melonhead warning that his melon senses are tingling.

I love this screenshot. Especially any scene between Jonny and Plank. 

An anon asked me a question today if I thought any of the other kids had siblings. If Jonny had a sibling would he carry Plank around? Jonny is never home. He’s always out playing with himself. And whenever we do see his home his bedroom looks to be in the attack where there are... no stairs. 

Holy cow, I just realized something! Once Upon a Ed reveals that Jonny enters his bedroom by pulling himself up by a rope while sitting in a basket. And the basket remains in that place for the rest of the night. If his parents wanted to come into his room they can’t! Is that how they want it? Wow, wow, that gives a whole new perspective on Jonny’s relationship with his parents. And why he built that melon fortress.

His parents don’t care to be in his life. Jonny moreso becomes crazier becoming his alternate ego. If his parents noticed him more he would have been given the right help he deserves.

Jonny whimpers that he has never taken a bus before.

Technically he has because he rode the Eds bus scam in season 1. That doesn’t count.

Jonny has never been out of the neighborhood on his own. There was that one time where Kevin kindly brought him along to go go-carting with he and Rolf. Jonny has major social anxiety which has never gotten better. The adults at school don’t seem to care either.

Jonny is scared of the world not knowing what or who is out there. That explains more into his anxiety attack in an important scene we will see later on.

Plank ‘tells’ Jonny that there is nothing to it as Jonny acts as if he is being shoved against the pole.

What if Jonny is hallucinating that Plank is an actual person taller then he is?

There was this old comic strip called Calvin and Hobbes. The famous question is if Hobbes was really Calvin’s imagination or not. Calvin sees Hobbes, his stuffed tiger, as real. Calvin was rather eccentric and unique from the other kids. He didn’t have the best social skills either rarely talking to anybody his own age. Jonny and Calvin are relatable as they live in their imaginations rather then living in reality.

“Boy, Plank you sure turn into a fireball when you're wearing a mask!”

“Okay then. If it means we bring down those three maniacs, we're takin’ a bus to justice!"

And Jonny holds this pose for a total of 8-9 seconds until his scene is over.

As I was pointing out up top he must wait a least a few hours because it’s implied that the kids stories are all happening at the same time. The last time we saw Jonny was when he was bouncing off the houses as Kevin and Nazz were leaving. 

It can only be determined that this is what Jonny was doing as Kevin and Nazz crashed, Rolf was in the desert, Sarah and Jimmy were preparing their picnic, and the Eds were making their way to the cow field.

Honestly, the writers could have done a better job with Jonny’s subplot. He gets the bad ending. He does not deserve that. The kids all deserve to be happy together. 

And don’t you find it unsettling how the kids beat him? They came all that way to beat up the Eds. Since they no longer can they still want to give a beating. We’ll talk more about that later on.