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m0ther-of-p3arl · 1 year

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got a tendency for codependency

(robert aeor high p4)

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eyooo and welcome to part four of the robert aeor high au and it's a very special update today! i welcome you to...JIMMY POV!!!

Jimmy can feel Shelby watching him, feel her eyes boring into his back, telling him to stop talking. But he doesn’t, because Scott looks like he’s hurting and Jimmy wants to help. All Jimmy’s ever wanted to do since he got away is to help.

or, Jimmy's determined to make friends in his new school and just kind of a chill update

(3493 words)

TW: mentions of running away, insinuated past abuse, dissociation, insinuated ptsd, panic attacks

It’s only Jimmy’s first day, and already he’s made a friend. Her name is Shelby, or Shubble to eir friends, ey use she/ey pronouns, she’s a gnome, and ey wears a really, really big hat. Jimmy’s never really had a friend before, but even so, he feels like he’s lucked out with Shubble. She’s kind and funny, and ey really listens to him when he talks.

Jimmy doesn’t know if he’s friends with Scott, though. The gorgon was kind of intimidating, asking all those questions about if he can fly or not. Jimmy supposes it’s kind of hypocritical to be thinking this, because he himself was asking some questions of the more personal variety as well. But how was he to know that Scott would be so sensitive about that kind of thing? But how was Scott to know that Jimmy hated being asked about flying? He’s checkmated himself with that one.

Scott and the tiefling, Jimmy thought he heard Shelby call him “Owen,” have just gone into the corner where they’re having some kind of intense conversation. Scott looks really uncomfortable, his arms hugging himself tightly, and Owen seems to be quite angry about something, throwing his hands in the air.

Jimmy can’t quite make out what they’re saying, but he does know that a while ago, he heard his name. They had both glanced back quite conspiratorially after that, and then quieted their voices considerably. Jimmy’s half-listening to Shubble’s animated chatter, half-watching the two boys in the corner.

He wonders what they’re talking about, what it has to do with him. Jimmy’s always been a curious little bird.

Oh, goddamn it! It’s been a year, a year, and he still can’t shake it off, that voice, always at the back of his mind, whispering the same words every time, repeating and repeating and repeating, endless looping circles. For the first couple months after he left, he couldn’t sleep, the words the only things he could hear at night, when there were no distractions to keep them from coming.

It’s less severe now, with Beks’ quiet snores from the bunk above him, rhythmic and soothing, and her parents always there to comfort him if he needs it. Really, the voice is more of a nuisance now, a shaking reminder that makes Jimmy’s feathers poof up every time he hears it.

Jimmy’s always been a curious little bird.

Ugh. He shakes his wings slightly, the feathers making a soft rustling sound, and turns his attention to Shubble, who’s going on about inter-species peace or something of the sort- nothing Jimmy would know about.

“Shelby?” he asks, interrupting the gnome mid-sentence.

“Yeah?” Shubble answers. He finds it amazing how ey doesn’t even seem to care that she’s been interrupted, how ey just cuts herself off, no matter what ey’s been saying, to turn her attention to Jimmy.

“Do you know what those two are talking about over there in the corner?” While he’s saying this, still keeping half an eye on the conversation, Owen’s just enveloped Scott in a hug. The gorgon’s standing still as a stone in his embrace, and Jimmy wonders why he won’t hug Owen back. The few times Jimmy’s been hugged have been some of the nicest moments of his life. He doesn’t understand Scott.

“Oh… let’s not talk about that, Jimmy, it doesn’t matter much anyway.” Shubble’s expression has changed suddenly and drastically, going from a welcoming, warm smile to an anxious frown that she’s attempting to hide rather poorly. “Plus, they’re coming back now, see?”

“...I guess so,” Jimmy mutters. He doesn’t want Shelby to get mad at him, doesn’t want to jeopardize what’s maybe the only friendship he has, so he drops it for now. As Scott sits back down in the seat next to Jimmy, Owen gives the gorgon a quick pat on the back before he slides into his seat as well.

Stealing a glance at the gorgon, Jimmy realizes that the person he’d bumped into on the hallway while trying to find his class was probably Scott- he’s about the right height, and Jimmy distinctly remembers cyan. If so, that did make trying to be the gorgon’s friend a bit awkward, especially as he’s certain that even though he doesn’t know Scott that well, he’s a smart, cunning person. If Jimmy’s figured it out, there’s no doubt in his mind that the gorgon has as well.

God, Jimmy’s such a clumsy idiot.

He can see Scott right now in his peripheral vision, hunched up into himself and seemingly very worried about something. Now, Jimmy’s no expert on life, and especially not having friends, but he does know that he’s generally good at cheering people up- or at least, that’s what Beks says, and she took him in. Jimmy trusts her, so that means he should trust himself.

“You good?” he asks, tapping Scott’s shoulder. “You seem… upset about something.”

Scott looks over, surprised, his mouth drawn into a straight line. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He’s obviously not, and Jimmy’s brow furrows, confused as to why someone would say something if it wasn’t what they meant. What are you supposed to do after this, again? Oh, right.

“...Are you sure?” he asks the older boy awkwardly, not quite looking in his eyes, preening his wing feathers; an anxious habit he’s picked up in the last year.

“Um. Yeah. Yep. I’m just peachy,” Scott mutters weakly, staring straight ahead at nothing. Jimmy can feel Shelby watching him, feel her eyes boring into his back, telling him to stop talking. But he doesn’t, because Scott looks like he’s hurting and Jimmy wants to help.

All Jimmy’s ever wanted to do since he got away is to help.

“What did Owen say when you were talking in the corner? It clearly upset you, and I know we barely know each other, but if you need to talk about something, you can come to me.” The words come out in a rush, cascading from his lips before he can stop them. He realizes what he’s said is probably very embarrassing and he can feel the red creeping into his cheeks, his eyes glancing upon Shubble’s tense expression, which looks like she’s certain Scott’s going to fall apart like a fragile little flower.

On the gorgon’s other side, Owen’s back has tensed, his ears pricked. He’s turned away from him, but Jimmy can tell the tiefling’s been eavesdropping- ready to jump in at any time to Scott’s defense.

But despite what Jimmy’s expected, harsh rejection and an angry glare, one more possibility of friendship lost forever, the opposite seems to happen.

“...Thank you, Jimmy.” Scott’s voice sounds genuinely grateful, and Jimmy’s unbelievably relieved that he’s not mad. He hadn’t even realized his feathers had fluffed up until they relaxed, smoothing back down into their normal shape. He can see Scott’s eyes out of the corners of his own, hidden under glasses, the cyan irises tracing his plumage as it relaxes back into his wings, smooth and flush with his back. Jimmy feels a little shiver knowing that Scott’s looking at him, looking at his wings with such… curiosity.

Jimmy’s always been a curious little bird. Goddamn it. Goddamn it! He can’t get away from the voice, her voice, pulling and pushing and repeating and looping over and over and over and over again- Jimmy shakes his head, trying to refresh his brain, but it doesn’t work and he’s scared scared scared, he doesn’t want them to see him like this, especially not Scott, especially not Scott but

curiouslittlebirdjimmy’salwaysbeenacuriouslittlebird-

He’s aware of how his wings must be wrapped tightly around himself, aware of the way Shelby’s looking at him with concern, shaking his shoulder and yelling, “JIMMY!” But he can’t hear her, the voice is drowning everything else out, and he knows he should be able to feel Scott’s hand pressing against the back of his neck, making sure he’s awake, but he doesn’t feel it, he doesn’t feel anything, nothing but the voice screaming screaming screaming loud in his skull, it won’t stop, why won’t it stop-

Then something brushes his wings and he snaps out of it, shaking his head and breathing heavily. The thing that had touched his feathers, right where they connected at his back, had been the teacher’s hand- Jimmy realizes they’ve been standing over him as well, and a fresh bout of shame loops over him. He hasn’t been that bad in almost four months.

“Though that would work,” they say confidently, rubbing Jimmy’s shoulder. “You good, kiddo?”

“I- yeah, I’m fine,” he lies, mirroring Scott’s words from just a few minutes ago. Now he understands. “Don’t worry about me.” Jimmy kind of wishes someone did worry about him, obviously he has Beks, but she’s different, she’s not really his friend, exactly. He’s super grateful for her and everything, and she’s been such a help in everything, but he knows that most of her motivation to help him comes from a place where she’s just trying to heal herself, her own past wounds.

Her little brother.

“If that ever happens again,” Mx Leiverman says authoritatively, breaking Jimmy out of his thoughts, “I want you to touch his back, that spot between his wings, right? That’s one of the most sensitive spots on an avian,” they explain, “and it tends to wake them up from dissociation, which I think is what was going on here. Of course, it also wakes them up from real sleep, but I sure hope our new student won’t be sleeping in class.” The teacher sends him a wink, smiling. “Now, do you all know what we’re doing today, or were you just chatting the whole time?”

Jimmy smiles guiltily, it’s not a real smile, it’s just met to make the teacher feel better. He doesn’t want her to think he’s a nuisance. Jimmy hates being told he’s a nuisance. “I suppose it might help to have a refresher.”

The next thirty minutes go by in a blur, small talk with Shelby while doing some sort of science experiment. Everyone else seems to know what will happen, but Jimmy’s extremely surprised at the end result, an amazed gasp exploding from his mouth at the colored mushroom cloud that poofs out of the beaker. His reaction makes everyone else laugh, and Jimmy has to admit that he probably sounds pretty silly.

Plus, it doesn’t feel like they were laughing at him, it feels like they were laughing with him. That’s sort of a new feeling to Jimmy, but he decides he likes it. School isn’t as bad as he’d thought it might be- he’s already made friends, Shelby especially, who makes him laugh in a very real way, and Scott, who’s quiet but nice and after a couple more minutes with the guy, has solidly landed in the friend category. He’s really interesting to look at too, and Jimmy finds himself having to drag his eyes away from the gorgon’s snakes or hands or eyes beneath shades on multiple occasions.

Owen, on the other hand… from the outside, he seems fine, treats Jimmy just the same as Shubble and Scott, but there’s something just slightly, marginally different- Jimmy doesn’t think he likes him very much. Maybe it’s the way the tiefling glances to the side as if he wants to run away, or how whenever he thinks Jimmy’s not looking, his face twists into a scowl, or the way that when he laughs, there’s an undertone that Jimmy can’t quite pin down, but certainly doesn’t like.

But Owen doesn’t matter because now Jimmy has friends, real friends for the first time ever. Well, except for Beky, of course- but she’s a grade younger, it’s not like he’d be able to hang out with her in class. Plus, she has her own friends, El and Krow and that whole lot, and Jimmy never really got on with them. Especially Krow. It’s nice and all, but he’s just always found it a bit…intimidating, especially as it’s a siren and could be manipulating him without him ever knowing it was doing anything at all.

And El, though she’s very down-to-earth and funny, is straight-up terrifying. She’s just over eight feet tall, and while that’s short for a celestial, even the forest celestial that she is, it’s still pretty damn tall for anyone else. Of course, sky celestials get taller- they can grow to twelve feet- but Jimmy’s only five foot two. He’s really quite short.

Jimmy just generally distrusts people who are super significantly taller than him. They remind him of Patty and he does not want to be reminded of Patty- just thinking of her sends a shiver down the center of his spine, and he has to concentrate from keeping the voice creeping back into his mind, her voice, repeating and repeating and repeating.

And then before Jimmy knows it, class is almost over, and he’s packing up his stuff with Shelby’s help, letting him know where everything should go and how to keep his binder organized.

“These uniforms are really uncomfortable,” he mutters offhandedly, picking at the rough material of his skirt.

“YES!” Scott practically yells the word, almost causing Jimmy to jump out of his skin. “Oh, sorry. But they are, aren’t they? No one else thinks they are! Everyone’s like ‘Oh Scott, they’re fine, you just have sensitive skin,’ but they mess up my snakes too.”

“For me, it’s my feathers,” Jimmy explains. “The holes where my wings stick out from my uniform are really scratchy and they’re probably going to leave an irritation on my wingbuds, if they haven’t already.” He doesn’t quite understand what’s going on, why this dumb little conversation is making him so happy, his mouth quirking up in a slight smile.

Scott continues going on and on about the uniforms, and Jimmy just watches, nodding and chirping up with little add-ons whenever the gorgon says something he agrees with. It’s kind of nice, just sitting here and talking to this kid he’s met today.

Plus, Jimmy just finds Scott’s snakes so interesting, the way they hiss slightly when he speaks, and how they’re always writhing across his head. The gorgon will sometimes run a hand backwards through them, taming them down for about thirty seconds before they’re back at it again.

Jimmy remembers reading somewhere that a gorgon’s snakes mimic their emotions, and from what he can recall, right now it looks like Scott’s feeling- maybe not happy, exactly- but energized nonetheless.

Jimmy doesn’t realize he’s been spaced out, staring at the gorgon once again, until Shelby waves a hand in front of his face. “Hellooo? Jimmy, you home?”

“What? Oh, yeah, sorry, I just kinda spaced out for a bit.” He shakes his head, and turns away from Scott, feeling mildly embarrassed. He doesn’t know what’s come over him, but Scott’s just interesting to look at, with his snakes always twisting this way and that, his cyan eyes really quite hypnotizing, even through his dark sunshades. Jimmy supposes they must come from his siren mother.

Hopefully Scott doesn‘t have any of the manipulative powers that typical sirens, like Krow, possess. Jimmy would actually be pretty surprised if he did, because it seems like the only feature he’s inherited that’s not completely gorgon-ish is the color of his eyes and snakes. Oh, and the fact that he apparently can’t petrify anyone.

Jimmy’s still curious about that, wonders why Scott wears the shades if there’s nothing within his eyes he has to protect others from. But that’s a question for later, when they’re better friends, because the gorgon’s seemed to really tense up when Jimmy’s asked similar questions.

“Well, it’s time to go,” Owen says brusquely as the bell rings, pulling Jimmy out of his thoughts. “Where to next, Jim?”

“Um, lemme check,” Jimmy mutters, opening his schedule as he feels a spike of anxiety. He really doesn’t think Owen likes him. That’s bad. Jimmy doesn’t think he’s done anything wrong that might make the tiefling hate him, but he wouldn’t know, would he? Jimmy’s new at having friends, he only just got out a year ago.

Jimmy’s always been a curious little bird.

He shudders at the voice, still pressing into his mind, her words sharp as a knife in his mind. “Um, next class is math with a Mr Brunswick? In room 201,” he adds to clarify.

Scott looks at him, surprised. “If you’ve read that right, you’ve got the next class with me and Joel, then.”

“...Who’s Joel?” Jimmy asks, wondering if he’s missed something.

Scott considers the question for a couple of seconds, as if he’s trying to figure out how to word the answer. “Joel is… Joel. He’s a hard one to explain- you’ll know what I mean when you meet him. Jimmy smiles uncertainly, slightly worried about who, or what, Joel is, but he gets his answer soon enough.

He follows Scott across the hall, tripping over feet and hitting people with his wings left and right, muttering “sorry”s that are met with annoyed glares from the other students, until finally, they’re inside the classroom. Jimmy heaves a sigh of relief and leans against the doorjamb, because thank god he’s out of that crowded mayhem- he’s decided he doesn’t like the hallways.

“Someone’s dramatic,” Scott smirks, turning back and beckoning for Jimmy to follow him. “So, I think your desk is next to mine ‘cause I saw it earlier, and Joel sits right behind me.”

“I don’t see a seat behind yours,” Jimmy starts, confused.

“Oh, yeah, Joel has to sit on the floor,” Scott explains, somehow just bringing up even more questions about this mysterious “Joel.”

He opens his mouth, more confused than ever, when suddenly someone walks through the door. Or more, stoops under the door frame. Jimmy’s eyes travel from their bright white shoes to their blue and mottled white legs all the way up to their head, where a scruff of brown hair with a single green streak slightly off to the side sits, a tattoo of a strand of laurel snaking down their arm.

Oh. Oh, no, he’s so tall. That’s not good.

So that’s Joel. Or at least, he assumes that’s who they are, because Scott’s waving them over, and they’re enthusiastically making their way through the rows of desks to sit on the floor behind the gorgon and Jimmy.

“Eyo, are you that new kid? The one on my bus?” Joel leaves no room for questions, his meaning blatantly clear. Jimmy supposes he has to admire that, even if he’s really not enjoying the fact that Joel towers over him even when he’s seated on the floor.

“Um, yeah, probably,” Jimmy laughs nervously, picking at his feathers and smoothing his skirt down to his knees. “I mean, I feel like I would’ve noticed you, with you being…,” his eyes take a second to trace from Joel’s shoes to his head, “That tall,” he finishes, feeling a familiar wave of nausea that always comes at times like this. “Are you a sky celestial? I’m not the best at species identification, but you guys are kind of unmistakable.”

“That I am,” Joel smirks, “and a handsome one at that, eh, Scott?”

The gorgon rolls his eyes, but Jimmy can see the hint of a smile beneath the snarky facade. “Keep telling yourself that, bestie.”

“So, Timmy, right?” the sky celestial asks, quite sure of himself as he leans towards Jimmy, who tries to hide a snicker.

“Timmy?!” He’s not sure if Joel’s joking, because even given the little he’s seen of him, he seems to tread the line between joking and being serious in every sentence. “No, sorry, the name’s Jim. So, Jimmy would be what you heard. With a ‘J.,” he adds to clarify.

“...Oh,” Joel mutters, slightly taken aback. “Well, that’s not a terrible mistake to make, is it?”

Scott smiles dryly, but doesn’t say anything.

“Um, it’s fine, I guess?” Jimmy mutters. “I really don’t care all that much.”

“Well, good,” Joel puffs, “Because you shouldn’t. Because I’m the best. And not egotistical at all.”

“Sure,” Scott mutters, a smirk still apparent on his face, bent down to finish his homework. Joel rolls his eyes, sticking his tongue out at Scott.

The rest of the day passes quickly. Either Scott, Shelby, Owen, or Joel are in all of his classes, and in some, all four of them are there. When Jimmy’s walking home with Beks, her owl wings contrasting directly with his bright yellow plumage, he can’t help but think that, all things considered, his life’s been so, so much better since he got out.Maybe it’s good that he is a curious little bird, because otherwise, he wouldn’t be here right now, now would he? But, even after having a day to get used to him, Jimmy just has to admit that Joel’s still too tall.

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m0ther-of-p3arl · 1 year

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bury me six feet in snow

(robert aeor high au p1)

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-heyo! if you do not know, this is the first installment of an au i have decided to write. i speedran this today during school and it's finally finished, so here ya go *throws writing and runs away*

Half-gorgon, half-siren, the worst of both worlds. Instead of petrification, his eyes spew ice, freezing anything in his path. Instead of the bright green snakes and irises and scales he should have, in any of these spots that should be the toxic green exclusive to a gorgon, Scott is a light-hued cyan color. He’s an eyesore. His father’s told him this many times, how the only thing he’s good for is wasting his parents’ money and being a disappointment- how at least he could have had the decency to be born with the right colors, at least, maybe then Scott wouldn’t be such a terrible child.

or, Scott lives with abusive parents, and his best friend, owen, is a constant through it all. (yes jimmy'll be thrown in here soon dont worry i have it all planned out >:)

TW: verbal abuse, homophobia, internalized homophobia, depression, anxiety

(3444 words)

He hates peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. His breakfast sits there, unbitten and untouched, the jelly just a little bit too blue and the peanut butter just a little bit too gray. His navy blue uniform chafes against his skin, and he wishes now more than ever his parents hadn’t sent him to private school- but of course, they know best, so he won’t question it, even if the uniform hurts, especially when he pulls his shirt on over his head, his snakes hissing at the contact with the coarse fabric. His chair is just a little too stiff, and his feet don’t quite touch the ground- everything is just slightly wrong, just so slightly off that he knows he’s out of control-

Scott risks a glance up from his meager breakfast to see his father, seated far across the long table that takes up the middle of this windowless room, staring stonily down at him. His gaze is full of judgment and Scott would’ve flinched, if this wasn’t something he was used to by now. If he didn’t know how much a show of weakness could cause him, another lecture on how he needed to act, how he needed to be, so the world would know who he really is. Scott quickly looks back down, his heart rabbiting intensely in his chest from his father’s intense gaze.

Scott’s waiting, waiting for his father to say something, he knows it’s coming, and he steels himself for it, but his father just…stares. This is… a little strange. Is Scott’s father trying to petrify him? That wouldn’t make any sense, though. Father is smart enough to know that his petrification doesn’t work on fellow gorgons, and even if Scott isn’t really a gorgon, that’s like, the first thing you learn when you’re given your shades. Scott gingerly lifts his sandwich from his plate and takes a tentative bite, not daring to look up, hoping that it’ll taste at least a little different, hoping there’ll be something at least a little new-

Blech. Same as always. The grape jelly squishes between his teeth and the peanut butter sticks to the roof of his mouth as he chews and swallows, the familiar taste almost vomit-inducing at this point, the texture mealy and uncomfortable in his mouth. Scott’s been having the same breakfast since he was eight, and he’s always wondered why, given how much money his dad makes, he can’t just have something a little more…appetizing?

Maybe something new, Scott really likes Indian food, and he’s not particularly inclined towards PB&Js. At least for lunch, he can sneak some food from Owen, who’ll make a fuss about it but in the end will always oblige Scott’s requests, because Owen knows that Scott’s particular about his food, and he doesn’t get much else- Scott wishes Owen was here now, to knock on his door and save him from his father’s withering gaze.

Scott’s father clears his throat, pulling Scott out of his thoughts, and he immediately looks up, mouth still full as he swallows quickly, snapping to attention.

“Scott.”

Scott’s name on his father’s lips is dripping with disdain, the way it always is, loaded with disgust and disappointment, cold as the ice that carpets the ground wherever Scott looks. It burrows into Scott’s blood and even though he’s heard it oh so many times before, it still cuts a little each time, and Scott wants to do something about it, but instead he waits for his father to continue. Maybe if he doesn’t interrupt, Father won’t hate him, maybe he’ll be worth at least something, maybe Scott’s not a complete disappointment and “a wretched curse upon his family,” as he’s heard so many times before.

“It’s time for school.” It absolutely is not time for school, school doesn’t start for another hour, at least, and Scott opens his mouth to say so-

But he opens his eyes instead, to find he is still laying in his four-poster bed, the sun shining in through the window as his father looms over him. “W-what?” Scott’s still confused, his brain hasn’t quite wrapped itself around the fact that he’s just awoken, part of him wondering why he isn’t still sitting opposite of Father at the unfamiliar oaken table that takes up a whole empty, hostile room.

“I said, wake up. You can hear me, can’t you? Or are you deaf as well as defective?” Father’s voice is laced with venom and Scott wants nothing more than to burrow beneath his blankets again, because even the father in his dreams is less horrible than the one he has in real life. No, not horrible, he’s not horrible. He loves Scott. Father just wants what’s best for him, just wants to make sure he grows up to be a real man.

Scott can never tell his father that he’s- his insides reel with disgust even thinking about his secret, the slimy truth of his existence.

He doesn’t need to be thinking about that this early in the morning.

Scott sits up, eyes still blurry with sleep, his cyan snakes hissing in front of his face as he pulls them back behind his head, the icy feel of their scales causing a shiver to run through his veins. He sits up straight, trying to be presentable, because that’s important, he needs to be respectful to his father, but everything’s tinted ice-blue- Scott’s eyes widen in a sudden realization. He’s not wearing his shades and he needs to put them on now, quickly, or he’ll cause so much damage, if he hasn’t already- his hands scrabble over the bedstand until he finds them and he breathes a sigh of relief, pulling the dark glasses over his head.

Oh, no. He hadn’t been quick enough, he realizes, as he surveys his room, streaks of ice embedded from the wall, spiking out at odd angles, as dark and horrific as the way his father glares down at him, because Scott’s just done the worst thing possible, he’s reminded his father that he’s broken-

“I-I’m sorry,” Scott mutters, looking down at his feet, “I thought I was g-getting it under control.”

“Clearly not.” Father sneers, his own glasses blocking out his bright green eyes, eyes that petrify, the eyes that any real gorgon should have.

Eyes that Scott doesn’t possess.

“Now get dressed and prepare yourself for school. Your mother and I did not pay this much money for you to be late. And let yourself out. I can’t stand the sight of you again this morning. Worthless boy.” Scott’s father turns, green cloak sweeping behind him as he steps regally down their looping spiral staircase.

Scott sighs. He had hoped that for once he might have a normal morning, one where he didn’t disappoint his father and one where maybe, maybe, the curse of being a hybrid would go away, the curse that isn’t even the worst part of who Scott is. He wishes his mother was here.

Not that she’d be any kinder to Scott about his situation, of course. But she was, at least, less aggressive. Her form of punishment for Scott was more often than not a session of intense siren hypnotization, trying to fix him, to get him to be one or the other.

Scott’s mother has a gorgeous voice, so he doesn’t mind her luring him into that sleepy state where she can possibly figure out if there’s some way to eliminate one side or the other. Because Scott’s mother is not a gorgon. She’s a siren, and Scott doesn’t really understand how she and his father got together, as they’re both extremely conservative about inter-species breeding- and most things in general. And yet somehow, they’d gotten together and had… him.

Scott hates himself.

As he pulls on his navy uniform (that bit, unfortunately, was not a dream), his snakes hiss against the rough fabric and he growls under his breath, because why on earth would anyone make clothes of any kind in this burlap-like material, much less school uniforms? And the pants- Scott wishes he could wear something a bit more flowy on his legs, something that would let him breathe. He should start a rebellion, he thinks wryly, before his anxious brain speeds up and works out what the actual consequences would be if Scott did attempt something of the kind.

If news got back to his parents, he might have to go a week alone in this gigantic, cold house. He doesn’t want to do that again. Even horrible company is still company, Scott hates being alone- and the worst part is, his father knows it. Now (un)comfortably slid into his uniform, Scott steps quietly out of his room, closing the ice-covered door behind him, sighing and running a hand through his snakes, which hiss softly at his touch.

At the bottom of the twisting marble staircase, a familiar peanut butter and jelly sandwich is resting on the newel post. That had also not been exclusively a dream-world thing, and Scott hates the world for it. Why must he have this, day after day, for breakfast, lunch, and dinner? But he takes it anyway, because any food is better than no food, and begins to cross the expansive marble floor, making his way to the ornate double doors.

The entrance is emblazoned with two giant “M”s for Major, the family name. Scott doesn’t like to use that name. It reminds him of his father, and anywhere except home should be a reprieve from the constant scrutiny and judgment. So instead, he decided to use Smajor as his last name, combining his first initial with his legal last name. It feels silly and lighthearted, turning something he hates into something that makes him snicker whenever someone mentions it. He’s gotten to the point where he and his friends have gaslighted half the school into thinking that Smajor is his legal last name, and Scott loves it.

Scott Smajor. It just has a nice ring to it.

Scott shoves open the massive doors and begins to walk through the impeccably manicured front lawn, the small cobbled path he treads upon surrounded on all sides by professionally trimmed hedges, perfectly cone-shaped birch trees, lavender bushes and poppies that ring the numerous ponds. The expanses of water are completely artificial except for the precisely placed lotuses floating serenely on the dark water, and even despite that concerning detail, anyone would think this was paradise. But Scott knew better.

This garden is beautiful, sure, in the same way a postcard is beautiful. There’s always something… off about it. Maybe it’s the way the breeze doesn’t ruffle the leaves, the way that the ponds are always as still as ice. It just feels fake. Scott’s whole house feels fake, acres of space around it, a mansion in its own right. Made of stock-white marble, with sweeping buttresses and arching colonnades, it’s a work of architectural genius.

But just like the garden, it’s just about as genuine as the celebrities that pump themselves full of plastic and alter themselves so they resemble celestials, who are widely considered to be the most beautiful of the sentient species (though Scott personally thinks avians are the cutest, with their short stature and bird-like mannerisms).

Scott quickens his pace, pushing open the wrought iron gate and stepping out onto a normal neighborhood street, typical houses lining the streets. Scott notices rain beginning to drip down from the sky. He sighs in relief, the cool water offering a reprieve from his destructive thoughts. His family are the only wealthy people on his block, and their estate covers most of the left side of the street- but if he ignores it, he can almost pretend he’s a normal gorgon with normal gorgon abilities, who’s just walking down the street to fetch his best friend. And that is what Scott’s doing, so at least he can have half of his fantasy.

He’s reached the small brick house at the end of the road, a simple, overgrown lawn and a cluttered pathway that offer a striking contrast to the perfectly manicured front garden of Scott’s house. He carefully walks up the dirt path, jumping left and right to avoid tripping on the toys strewn all over the walkway, presumably left there by Owen’s little sisters. And Owen has a lot of little sisters. But that’s to be expected with tieflings- the biological females are always born in pods of four or more, while the males are born only ever one at a time.

Scott makes it to the end of the path and gingerly climbs the rickety stairs up to Owen’s sagging front porch, rapping three times against the door with the old iron door knocker. Almost immediately, the dark mint green door swings open under Scott’s touch, paint flaking off and drifting into the air. Scott instinctively brushes the dried varnish off his clothes, the unpleasant sensation of the fabric against his skin tingling in his fingertips, as he looks up, straight into the bright smirk of his best friend.

“Scott!” Owen flashes Scott his trademark grin in greeting, his curly brown hair flopping down in front of his orange-tinted face between his two similar-colored horns. Suddenly, a screech erupts from inside the modest house, and Scott just near jumps out of his skin. Owen glares back into the house. “Pipe down, will you?” He rolls his eyes and slams the door shut. Scott can’t imagine having one sibling, much less the nine rambunctious little sisters that Owen has to live with daily. In this one aspect, at least, Scott doesn’t envy his best friend.

Owen sighs. “Sorry about that, how’s life at the mansion?” Their feet fall into synchronization as they begin the walk to school, the rain dribbling down even more now, splattering the sidewalk with dark stains.

“It’s…fine,” Scott lies, turning his head to the side so he doesn’t have to meet his best friend’s eyes. Owen knows full well how much Scott hates it there, how much he wishes he could go somewhere else, anywhere else. He’s told Owen about his father and his mother and just…all that… multiple times, but Owen has never been the best at feelings, and though he’ll offer Scott a brisk hug on occasion, Scott’s learned it’s better just to not bring it up. He’s pretty sure Owen doesn’t want or need to hear about Scott’s trauma, if it can even be classified as trauma.

It can’t, really, nothing horrific has ever happened to him, just…his father. And though it hurts, Scott knows that it’s not half of what some people have to live through. But he’s still learned it’s better not to bring up his experiences with people, especially Owen. He doesn’t want to sour their friendship, doesn’t want to ruin anything he hasn’t already broken with his clumsy hands.

Owen surprises him this morning, though, grabbing Scott by his shoulders and turning him around to face him. “No, it’s not.” It’s not a question, and Owen’s face is serious, not his typical silly smirk.

Scott tries weakly to smile, but he’s pretty sure it looks more like a grimace. “No, it’s not,” he mutters, repeating Owen’s statement as he stares up at the rain-heavy clouds.

“Is your dad being a dick again? From what I’ve seen, he’s a real unsavory man.” Owen’s not looking at Scott, which he appreciates. Scott doesn’t like eye contact very much, it always reminds him of how his father will stare at him, judging and prying and looking for any little imperfection he can pick at until Scott cracks and admits that yes, he is a disappointment. Sooner or later, Scott always has to admit that he’s nothing more. He knows that Father’s always right about that kind of thing.

“I don’t know if I would use that language, Owen- I’m sure he only wants what’s best for me.” Owen scoffs at his words. “What?!” Scott snaps, “He’s not a bad person, we just have differences sometimes.” Scott knows it’s not true, knows the words he speaks are false, but he can’t admit anything else to himself and he can’t let anyone else know how hard he’s got it, because in reality, he hasn’t got it that hard at all.

Owen throws Scott a skeptical glance, but he stays quiet about it the rest of the walk to Robert Aeor, the high school they both attend, and the conversations shifts to lighter topics, giving Scott a much-needed reprieve from thinking about himself, about how despicable he is, how he doesn’t deserve a friend like Owen-

He shakes the thoughts from his head, the rain beating down hard now, Scott’s uniform almost completely soaked through. “You couldn’t have thought to bring an umbrella,” he asks Owen sarcastically, a smirk lighting up the corners of his mouth.

Owen sighs dramatically. “No, Scott, I did not bring an umbrella. But neither did you!” He raises an eyebrow, poking Scott lightly in the chest. “Maybe you should think on that, eh, Mr Rich Guy? You’re the one with all the money.”

“I’m also the one who still eats a soggy peanut butter and jelly sandwich for breakfast, lunch, and dinner every day, Owen, as you may recall,” Scott jests, elbowing his best friend in the ribs.

“Yeah, and what about that? You’ve been mooching lunch off me for the better part of five years, Scott Smajor, and when do I get paid back for all those pizza slices and bagel halves, huh?” Scott snickers slightly, and Owen’s face lights up. “Hah! I did it! I made you laugh!” Scott immediately quashes his grin. “What on earth are you talking about, young man?” Owen raises both eyebrows this time, a look that means he means business. “First,” he begins, counting off on his fingers, “I’m older than you-”

“By, like, a month,” Scott scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“A month and sixteen days,” Owen corrects, pointer finger raised authoritatively in the air. “And two, you’re always Mr Grumpapotamus- you almost never laugh!” He spreads his arms high in a wide, sweeping circle, as if to illustrate his point about just how much Scott never laughs.

“I do too laugh,” Scott grumbles, though he’s not really angry, he can’t remember the last time he was truly angry at Owen. “I laugh all the time.” “No, you absolutely do not!” Owen remarks incredulously.

“Do too,” Scott sulks, pushing his snakes out of his eyes. “You’re just not there to see it.”

“Scott, we’re literally together 24/7. That’s all the time, Scott. All the time!”

The conversation continues in this vein for quite some time, and before Scott knows it, they’ve reached Robert Aeor, the sizable brick building looming over his and Owen’s heads. Scott stares at the building, where he’s gone to school for the past three years. Soon he’ll be out of here, soon he’ll be eighteen, and then, as soon as he gets his college degree, he can get out of here.

Maybe he can even get a boyfriend- Scott’s eyes widen, realizing his mistake. No, that’s horrible, disgusting, what would Father think? He’s supposed to be fighting his imperfections, not leaning more into them, Owen’s the only one who knows Scott’s secret and that’s only because he guessed, he wheedled it out of Scott like only a best friend can do.

He can see Owen glancing over at him now, concerned, in his peripheral vision, but he doesn’t turn. He doesn’t deserve Owen’s worry and he doesn’t want it, he doesn’t need it.

“Well, I guess we’d better-” Scott stops short in his sentence, because Owen’s hugging him, warm orange-tinged arms wrapping around Scott’s shoulders, and he thinks he might cry, he hasn’t been hugged in so long-

And then it’s over, and Owen’s whispering in his ear, “Stay safe, okay?” The thing is, Scott doesn’t know if he can. And that’s the part that hurts.

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m0ther-of-p3arl · 1 year

Text

i crack and out i pour

(robert aeor high au p3)

masterpost

FINALLY JIMMY'S HERE ODKSLFJLSDKJ i've been waiting so long for this ohhh my god welp this is the longest update yet :)

hope you like!!

Jimmy. So that’s his name- Joel had been wrong about that bit, at least. Scott can’t help but take note of his ruffled blonde hair, short and scruffy, tucked behind his ear with a pink, flower-patterned hair clip, his standard knee-length skirt showing thin, bird-like legs. He’s quite short, his height even less impressive than Scott’s five foot seven stature, and this is what causes Scott to come to a startling realization: Jimmy can be no one else but the person he’s just bumped into in the hallway; if only he’d known.

or, Scott meets the new boy! and they have a conversation :)

(4279 words)

Science is decidedly Scott’s favorite class, if only because he shares it with Owen and Shelby. To be fair, though, he does somewhat enjoy what they do, loves that he can just sit and talk to his two friends while doing some dumb experiment where everyone knows what the final reaction will be. Stepping into the familiar, vaulted classroom today, Scott scans the tables quickly, spotting Shubble and rushing over to claim the seat next to her, as Owen doesn’t seem to be here yet.

That’s another great thing about science: they’re allowed to choose their own seats, and they can choose new places to sit every day. Scott is almost always sitting with Shelby and Owen, his two friends in the class- the only time when he’s not is when Shubble wants to sit with Pearl and her group of crazy friends, or Owen with Lilith, his partner. But today, Shelby’s sat at the table they usually pick, nestled comfortably in the back corner: Scott’s favorite place.

“Hey, Scott!” Shelby smiles in greeting, eir legs swinging from her chair as eir eyes just barely peek over the table, her mushroom hat the only reason Scott was able to spot em in the first place.

“Hey, Shubble,” he says, “Do you want something to sit on?”

“Yes please,” Shelby exhales, “I tell you, it’s hard being this short.”

“For your species, you’re actually quite large,” Scott points out, pulling a few textbooks out of his school bag and plopping them down next to his friend. Technically, what he’s said about Shelby’s height is true. For a gnome, ey’re very tall, but for any other species? Not so much. She stands at a whopping three foot five, and the few times Scott’s seen her with her parents, ey’ve been towering over them by at least six inches. “You can sit on these, I don’t need them till later.”

Shelby’s dark brown hair is parted into two braids, which stick out from underneath her iconic hat, made of a bright red mushroom speckled with large white spots. Ey’re one of the only people who actually looks good in the school uniform, the navy blue and white tie complimenting her dark eyes quite nicely.

“Thank you, Scott.” Shubble says, propping up his textbooks on her seat and clambering atop them, crossing eir arms neatly on the table. She’s always polite, and that’s one of the reasons Scott loves em so much. They’ve been friends for almost three years, the final addition to their little group, that until Shelby came along, had been composed of only Scott, Joel, and Owen.

And speaking of Owen, here he is now, weaving quickly in between the tables before sneaking behind Scott and Shelby’s, plopping himself down on the chair next to the gorgon. “Ready to science?” he grins, stretching and grinning at the other two.

“I need to talk to Shelby for a sec, but after that, yeah, duh,” Scott smirks back at his best friend, though he knows Owen will be listening in the whole time.

“What about?” Shubble leans in close, as if Scott’s telling her some big secret. And he supposes he is to an extent, though really, it’s nothing huge.

“Xornoth, my father, a dream I had, just a ton of shit.” Scott leans down onto the table, just Shelby’s concerned face already easing him a little bit out of the breakdown mindset.

“Oh, no- not Xornoth. What was ze doing now?” Shubble has had eir own experiences with the tiefling, and Scott knows that her distaste for zir is just as great as his own, if not even more pronounced.

“...trying to touch my snakes,” Scott confesses, his insides twisting into an anxious knot just remembering zir calloused hands rubbing roughly against his head.

Owen and Shelby’s reactions are immediate and identical. They both swing their heads towards Scott, their faces shocked and seemingly disgusted, yelling, “What?!”

“Quiet down back there!” the teacher, Mx Leiverman, yells from the front of the class.

Scott’s friends ignore them, Owen still staring, horrified, at Scott, and Shelby jumping down from her chair to stand on the table directly in front of him, glaring down at him, eir eyes angry and scared.

Owen speaks first. “Scott, that’s… not an okay thing for zir to do.”

“No, it most certainly is not! Why didn’t you text me?” Shubble chimes in, waving her arms in the air. “I could have helped! You could have had a breakdown! Honestly, I’m surprised you’re not completely catatonic right now- I know how much you hate unwanted touch, and from Xornoth? That’s, like, twelve times worse!”

“I didn’t want to bother you guys,” Scott reasons. He should have known they’d react like this, should have known they’d take it as such a huge deal. “It’s not really all that bad. I’m fine.” He’s not.

“I don’t believe that for even a second.” Shelby’s continuing to yell at him, pointing accusingly at his head. “If something like that ever happens to you again, I want you to tell me right away. Understood? That is disgusting.” Scott’s disgusting. “I can’t believe anyone would ever do anything like that- but if anyone was going to, it would be Xornoth, wouldn’t it-”

“Shelby, please quiet down!” Mx Leiverman sounds annoyed now, and Scott gestures to Shelby for em to climb back into eir seat. She shakes her head defiantly, anger and worry bubbling up behind eir eyes.

“Jesus, Shubble, it’s really not that big of a deal.” Scott’s struggling to keep acting this nonchalant, doesn’t really know why he’s keeping up the charade, really, but he doesn’t want to worry his friends. Even though Shelby’s the therapist of the group, and he’s been planning to tell her all this since it happened, Scott can’t seem to allow himself to open up. Shubble really seems to care, and he can see her blowing up even further, opening eir mouth, no doubt to argue.

“Yes it is,” Owen says so quietly, it’s almost a whisper, “That’s a legitimate legal offense. You could probably sue Xornoth for that, and I mean this genuinely.” He enunciates the last word, each syllable coming out crisp and clear.

“But I’m not going to, because it’s no big deal!” Scott’s getting frustrated now. He should have known they’d take it like this, should have known they’d get this angry. Well… no, that’s not completely true. He should have expected Shubble to act like this. Owen? Not so much. He’s just full of surprises this morning, it seems.

“Well, if you don’t want to talk about it or press charges, we aren’t going to force you,” Owen sighs. “Right, Shelby?” He glares at her, clearly signaling to em to drop it. Owen’s known Scott long enough now to know when he won’t crack, and even if he’s certain that Owen agrees wholeheartedly with Shelby, he at least knows when to let sleeping dogs lie.

“...Sure.” Ey seems slightly embarrassed, and she climbs off the table, returning to eir chair. “But Scott, if you ever change your mind about this, tell me. If you ever want to bring this to the attention of school authority, please let me know.”

“Yep, absolutely,” Scott mutters, more to ease the gnome’s worry than to actually agree. He knows he won’t, if only because it’ll make him even easier to pick on than he is now, but he also knows how it’d be such a sign of weakness, how disappointed his father would be, because Scott’s so horrendous already, he doesn’t need to add coward to the long list of things wrong with him.

“Good.” Shelby’s relieved; he can tell by the way eir shoulders relax, the way her eyes lose the intense ferocity they had harbored not seconds ago.

Owen catches Scott’s eye, nodding slightly. “Seriously, though.” Scott feels a sudden pang of affection for his friends, because though they’re being annoying as hell, he does need to hear this from time to time, hear that they care for him, hear that what he’s going through is real.

“Thanks, Shubble. Thanks, Owen.” He offers each of them a smile, sinking slightly at the edges but more genuine than any expression he’s made in a while.

Before Scott’s friends can respond with more than a rueful shake of the head and a small grin from Owen, Mx Leiverman is clapping from the front of the room, a loud, harsh sound that signals that they have an announcement to make.

“Attention, please! Hey! That means you, Pearl, listen up!” While Mx Leiverman is trying to get the attention of the class, Scott notices that there’s a person, leaning up against the wall behind the teacher’s desk, their arms crossed tightly across their chest, bright yellow wings peeking out from behind them.

It’s the new kid, it has to be, there’s no one else it could be. Grian’s a parrot, he has mostly red, patterned wings, and Bek’s an owl. They’re the only two avians in school, and even on the small off-chance that one of those two would be in this room for whatever reason, they look nothing like the one standing stiffly at the front of the class.

Shelby’s noticed him too, and ey peeks over at Scott, her eyes inquisitive. “Is that the kid Joel was talking about?”

“I guess so,” Scott whispers, being very careful that the new boy can’t hear them. “Owen, did you see those texts?”

“Yeah,” Owen mutters, looking everywhere but the avian stood in the corner, glancing back at him every few seconds. “Timmy, right?”

“I guess we’ll find out,” Scott answers, before Shubble shoots them a “stop talking” look, and all three direct their attention to the front of the room, where the teacher has finally gotten the class under control.

“Alright, everyone,” Mx Leiverman calls out, exerting their voice so it carries across the whole room. “As many of you may know, this-” they gesture to the avian- “is our new student, Jimmy. Would you like to introduce yourself to the class, Jim?”

“Um. Hey, I’m Jimmy?” The statement comes out inquisitive, making it sound like the avian is questioning his own name. Mx Leiverman gestures for him to elaborate, and Scott can see Jimmy sinking into his wings as they twitch. He’s evidently trying very hard not to wrap them around himself.

When he doesn’t continue, their teacher takes it upon themself to prompt him into speaking. “And where did you move from, Jimmy?”

Jimmy’s eyes have gone wide, and he looks like he’s struggling not to curl into a ball on the floor. “I-I moved from the… from a city a couple miles south.” Scott furrows his brow. This had obviously not been what Jimmy was originally going to say, and he’s obviously distressed. Scott feels for the guy, hopes for his sake that Mx Leiverman stops asking questions. It’s obviously making him very uncomfortable, and Scott’s been in similar situations before. It’s never fun.

“...What was the city called?” Mx Leiverman asks, prodding for more information. Scott almost facepalms, because any idiot can see how much the avian’s struggling right now, how much he wishes he could get out of the spotlight.

“Um, it was called…Jimmyville?” The class is working hard to hide their snickers, especially Joey, sitting alone at a table near the front of the class.

“Uh huh. Sure. What’s it really called, Jimmy?” Mx Leiverman is not amused, their nails beginning to drum a simple rhythm on their opposite arm.

“Can I go sit down now?” Jimmy doesn’t look like he’ll be answering any more questions. He’s staring determinedly down at his feet, as if not looking at all the people in the room will make them go away, will make them stop looking at him. His feathers ruffle, shaking slightly before laying back down into a more subdued pattern.

He’s kind of cute.

In the way all avians are cute, of course.

“Sure,” Mx Leiverman sighs, rubbing their temples and scanning the room, their gaze glancing over all the tables before landing on Scott and his friends. “I think you’d fit right in at that table in the back, Jimmy.”

He grabs his textbooks and walks over, still staring daggers at the floor, his wings pressed close against his body, prickling up in something that Scott assumes is either anxiety or embarrassment- though given Jimmy’s interrogation, he wouldn’t be surprised if it was a combination of both.

Shelby smiles at the canary as he trips towards them and scoots himself into the seat between her and Scott. “Hi, Jimmy!”

“Hey,” Jimmy mutters, attempting to smile and failing utterly. Shubble seems to have a good idea of what’s up, though, and ey leaves him be, though not before offering half of her granola bar, which Jimmy accepts gratefully.

Over the course of the introduction to class, Mx Leiverman drones on and on about what they’re going to be doing today, what obvious experiment will be conducted. Scott opens and closes his mouth several times, trying to find sentences that he can use to speak to the avian.

But Jimmy’s head is still ducked close to the table, his wings hanging loosely off the back of the chair, and Scott can’t seem to come up with words that sound genuinely friendly, and not weird or awkward. It doesn’t help that every time he tries, his insides feel like they’ve just been dropped off the high end of a cliff.

What is happening?

Scott turns his head away from Jimmy, staring intensely at the instructions on the board, determined to look anywhere other than Owen, who’s flashing him looks. Scott does not need to feel more confused than he does right now, and he can feel a bout of self-hate beginning to push in, disgust at how he’s feeling.

He hasn’t even spoken a word to this short bird boy, and already he can’t control himself. All Scott wants to be is normal, to be a full gorgon, to have the right feelings, to be the way men are supposed to be.

Scott glances behind him, and is suddenly aware of a huge mass of bright yellow feathers extending from Jimmy’s back. He’s stretching; his wings spread out to their full extent, eyes closed and arms stuck into the air. He does a little shake and his wings retract, folding back into their unassuming shape.

“You have a really large wingspan for your height,” Scott notices, not realizing until too late that he’s spoken aloud.

“Oh, yeah, I guess so,” Jimmy answers, looking surprisedly at the gorgon.

Well, Scott can’t let the conversation drop now. Plus, he has questions. “I’ve never really known an avian before, do you mind if I ask you some questions? Oh, I’m Scott, by the way.” Scott supposes he should at least introduce himself if he’s going to be this kinda guy.

“Well, I’m not exactly the best person to ask about that kind of thing…” Jimmy rubs the back of his neck self-consciously, grey-blue eyes looking to the side.

“I don’t mind,” Scott says quickly, and perhaps a bit too earnestly. He can hear the excited edge in his voice, and worries that he’s startled the canary. But instead of seeming weirded out, Jimmy laughs, a melodious, bird-like noise, clear and high-pitched.

“Well, I suppose so, then- only if I can ask you about being a gorgon, though. Back where I’m from, I only knew one. Her name was Nellie and she was ke- she lived on the other side of the city. I didn’t know gorgons could be cyan, tell me about that?”

Scott can feel the hairs on the back of his neck prickling up, discomfort coursing through his veins. “Um…normally, we can’t? I’m a hybrid, though, my mother’s a siren.”

“Huh, that’s interesting. I didn’t know hybrids between species were even a thing.” Jimmy’s picking at his feathers as they talk, never quite looking Scott in the eye, which he appreciates. Eye contact is something Scott’s never been a fan of, as it reminds him of his father, and he’s very relieved that Jimmy doesn’t seem to particularly enjoy it either, making the conversation a lot more comfortable for the both of them.

“Yeah, some species can crossbreed, some can’t. Apparently, a siren and a gorgon are close enough genetically that it works out.” Scott shrugs, trying to be nonchalant when really he’s warding off a breakdown. “I mean, if they weren’t, I wouldn’t be here, would I.”

“I guess not,” Jimmy agrees. “So, wait- can you still turn people to stone?”

“No.” Scott doesn’t elaborate, the question has already sent off too many alarm bells in his head, stupid defective fake disgusting wrong-

Scott realizes that Owen’s back, turned away from him and Jimmy, tensed at the avian’s last question. He’s been eavesdropping- again- and he knows it’s a topic Scott’s sensitive about. He feels a sudden burst of affection for his best friend.

“Sorry-” Jimmy starts, clearly having picked up on Scott’s anxiety.

“It’s fine,” he reassures the avian, “It’s just… kind of personal, you know?” Jimmy nods vigorously, his hair clip starting to fall out. Scott has to resist the urge to reach over and tuck it back in.

Owen’s back relaxes, and Scott feels quite proud of the way he handled such a sensitive subject as well. “So, about being an avian- can you fly?” Now it’s Jimmy’s turn to look uncomfortable, and Scott knows he’s overstepped, though he doesn’t know how.

“...kind of,” Jimmy answers, his posture somehow more rigid than before. “I was a little late learning, though- I’m not the best at flying.”

“Huh. I’m a gorgon who can’t petrify, you’re an avian who has trouble flying. Looks like we’re both de-” Scott stops himself from saying defective, reminding himself that though it’s true for him, other people often get defensive or weirded out when he calls himself that. “I guess we’re both kind of in the same boat,” he corrects himself.

“Yeah,” Jimmy agrees, offering a small, quivering smile that causes a shiver to run down Scott’s spine. “Yeah, I guess we kind of are.”

The conversation kind of dwindles after that, Scott not really knowing what to say, but kind of feeling like there’s not much more that needs to be said, at least right now. Mx Leiverman has finally finished the instructions for what they’re doing in class today, and Scott realizes that he’s been so caught up in his conversation, and even after it was finished, just thinking about what was said and Jimmy and other things, but mostly Jimmy.

“Shelby, do you know what we’re doing for class?” he half-whispers, leaning behind the canary to get a clear view of the gnome.

“You need to listen better,” she hisses, throwing him a glare that he knows by now is fake.

“Fine, I’ll ask Owen, then,” Scott challenges. Shubble rolls eir eyes, barely concealing a smile.

“Ask me what? And why are we whispering?” Suddenly Owen is there, out of his seat, head leaning in between Scott and Shelby.

“Oh, hello- I was just wondering what we’re doing, I didn’t catch what Mx Leiverman said,” Scott explains to his best friend. They’re all still crowded around right behind Jimmy, and Scott imagines it must be quite awkward for him- surrounded by people who you don’t know, who aren’t talking to you or about you. Scott’s been in similar situations before and it’s not a particularly nice feeling, so he leans back into his seat, gesturing for Shubble and Owen to do the same.

“Jimmy, did you hear what Leiverman said?” Scott asks, turning to the avian.

“No, I was talking to you, remember?”

Of course he was! Scott feels quite silly, and mutters a half-agreement before feeling Owen tap him on the shoulder and gesture to the corner. Scott raises an eyebrow before following, reassuring Shelby that they’ll be back in a second.

“So, what do you think of Jimmy?” Owen always feints around the questions he really wants to ask, and never says anything without a reason. Scott can tell he’s up to something, but he also knows that Owen’s trying to get more information out of him first, and he’ll never find out what about until Owen wants him to.

“He’s fine, he seems like a nice kid? I don’t know, I’ve known him just as long as you have- cut to the chase, Owen, what are you on about now?”

“Whatever could you be talking about,” Owen smirks, picking lint off the dark red sweater he always seems to be wearing, even times like now when he’s supposed to be donned in only the school uniform.

“You know full well what I’m talking about, what do you want from me?” Scott’s quite fed up with Owen's little guessing games at this point, because though at times they can be quite endearing, other times, like this, they’re just really bothersome.

Owen widens his eyes innocently, barely hiding his trademark grin. “I couldn’t possibly know what you’re referring to, Scott Smajor.”

“Come on, Owen, give it up. Why are you asking me about Jimmy?” Scott swears he can see the avian’s ear feathers peak up at the mention of his name. Owen shushes him loudly, having obviously seen it too.

“Fine, but don’t get mad. You have a crush on him, don’t you.”

Scott’s eyes widen at the tiefling’s statement, and he shakes his head vigorously. “No, no, no, no. And even if I did, you know I’m not supposed to like guys, I just haven’t found the right girl yet- I can’t be gay, do you understand how disgusting that would make me? Even worse than I am now, even more of a horrific person-” He’s shaking, hyperventilating, almost, because he hates talking about this, he hates bringing it up, he hates when Owen brings it up, because it’s bad to even think about and Scott hates himself-

“Scott! Stop it with this shit. You’re just as gay as I am bi,” Owen glares at him, momentarily snapping him out of his bubble of anxiety. “Just because you’re in denial and live with an abusive family-” he doesn’t, and he’s not in denial- “does not mean you get the right to be homophobic or self-deprecating.”

“And plus,” Scott adds, ignoring Owen’s outburst because he can’t let himself believe he’s anything but the disgusting idiot he is, he just can’t, he doesn’t know who he’d be if he didn’t hate himself- “I’ve literally known this kid for five seconds. Even if I was gay, it’s not like I’m gonna suddenly fall in love with whatever random chap looks in my vague direction.”

“You’re changing the subject. Apologize.”

“Fine.” Scott rolls his eyes. “I’m sorry I don’t want to be even more revolting than I already am- I have it hard enough without having to think about… that.”

“That is not an apology. Being queer is not revolting. Do you think I’m revolting? What about Shelby? What about Jimmy, who’s pretty obviously gender non-conforming with his skirt and hair clip?” Owen gestures angrily towards their table, where Jimmy and Shubble seem to be getting on splendidly. “Do you think we’re revolting? ‘Cause I’ll remind you, the majority of your friends are not straight and/or cis.”

“I- no, I don’t think you’re revolting-” Scott’s on the defense now, backing up with his hands raised in surrender.

“Then what are you getting at?” Owen jabs him in the chest, hard, not the friendly pokes Scott’s used to, and he stumbles backwards, eyes wide. “Because you can’t really hate one queer person due to their gender or sexuality without hating all of us, even if that one queer person is yourself. Look, I get that you have a fucking hard time. I get it! But this does not give you the excuse to press your trauma on everyone else. Now properly apologize. Or else.”

Scott doesn’t know what to do, he can’t figure out how his own logic works, how he’s gross because he’s gay, but all his friends aren’t- his mind reels. But he does suppose he has to apologize. “...I’m sorry, Owen.” It’s almost too soft to hear, but Owen seems satisfied, folding Scott into an awkward hug for the second time that day.

“It’s okay,” Owen reassures. “That’s what I’m here for- to correct you when you say the dumbest shit imaginable. Now come on, let’s go do a science experiment.”

Owen walks back to the table, Scott trailing slowly behind him. He doesn’t think his friends are disgusting, he really doesn’t, so then why does he feel like he is? Because no matter how many times he tries to take what Owen says to heart, he can’t, he just can’t.

For a moment, just for a moment, Scott tries to let himself imagine what it would be like if he hadn’t grown up the way he had.

He thinks… he thinks it might have been nice.

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m0ther-of-p3arl · 1 year

Text

flying is a state of mind

(robert aeor high au p5)

masterpost

anyway im super proud of this one i think it turned out very well and it was fun to kinda dive into a bit of scott's memories and deeper backstory. hope you like!!!

It’s really kind of nice having a new friend, Scott supposes. The last time he’s felt this excited to go to school was when Shelby joined the friend group, and that was about three years ago. Scott’s been stuck with the same people for a long time- not that he doesn’t enjoy hanging out with them, obviously he does, but it’s a much-needed breather to have something different.

or, Scott is on the way to Jim's house (so he can go to the movies with Jimmy and Joel, but that's next update) and we meet Beks for the first time :000

(4257 words)

TW: internalized homophobia, self-hate, flashbacks of past abuse, etc

It’s been almost a month since Jimmy’s arrived at school, and Scott has to admit, he’s grown quite fond of the avian, who’s almost seamlessly fit into their friend group- mainly because Scott tries to make sure he’s invited to everything. Shelby loves him like a little brother, and he and Joel have got on famously (honestly surprising to Scott) ever since an incident at lunch where Jimmy made Joel laugh so hard that his chocolate milk had snorted out of his nose.

Owen, on the other hand… Scott’s pretty sure no one else has noticed, except for maybe Jimmy himself, but Owen is, to put it lightly, not as excited about a new member of the friend group as everyone else seems to be. Scott’s not sure what it is, but he supposes that after five years of being someone’s best friend, you kind of just feel what they’re feeling instinctively.

Now, the thing is, Scott really likes Jimmy- he’s funny, he’s sweet, he’s gotten Scott out of a breakdown spot more than once. Jimmy is quickly climbing up his friend tier list, and he’s sure that Owen can tell how much Scott’s enjoying Jimmy’s company.

In fact, Scott’s pretty sure that Owen’s jealous, as silly as that is. Scott can’t imagine his life without his best friend there by his side, laughing on their walks to school, smirking at all his dumb jokes. But Jimmy’s different- refreshing to be around, kind of like a breath of fresh air after being stuck in the same room, repeating the same patterns, for so long. He’s not a better friend than Owen, not even close, but he’s… new. And that always has an effect on the way he perceives people.

Of course, though his life’s gotten just so, so much better since the avian’s arrival, there is still his situation at home. His mom’s always away leading her cult, and his father is bearing down harder than ever, telling Scott to stay away from his friends, to stay inside. Many times, he’s almost found out about Jimmy, and Scott can’t quite put a finger on why he thinks so, but he’s certain that his father can not find out about the canary.

Scott tries to get out of the house as much as he can, to get away from Father, but it’s hard, and he often feels weird initiating activities within his friend group. So most of the time, he just sits quietly upstairs in his room, hoping and praying that his father doesn’t come in and find him on his phone.

Scott isn’t supposed to have a phone, but Joel bought it for him a couple years back, and he’s had it ever since. It’s always a much-needed reprieve from his stressful home life to just hop on to the group chat and talk about the silliest things for a few hours, or even just a few minutes.

He’s the one who insisted Jimmy be added to the group chat after a week of hanging out with him at school, much to Owen’s chagrin. Shelby had seemed ecstatic about the idea, and Joel just as chill with everything as ever. After two weeks, Scott and Jimmy had a private chat, just the two of them, which was something kinda new for them both- Jimmy’s never had a friend til recently, and Scott’s only ever had a private text with Owen.

There are still a lot of things he doesn’t know about Jimmy, of course, a lot of things he’s too scared to ask, because he’s grown to value their friendship greatly and doesn’t want to do anything to jeopardize it. Scott’s pretty sure that he and Jimmy have some sort of silent agreement not to bring up their first conversation- Jimmy doesn’t ask about Scott’s eyes or why he still needs to wear shades if he can’t turn things to stone (Scott’s certain he’s wondered this at least a few times), and Scott doesn’t ask about it when Jimmy mentions how he’s just learnt to fly and other things like that.

He’s thinking about all this today as he runs his morning jog route, something he’s started up in the past few weeks to get away from home on the weekends. It works remarkably well; he can leave on his jog and then go meet up with his friends, be out of the house all day, and his father’s none the wiser.

Today, he’s going to the movie theater with Jimmy and Joel, as Shelby has Gnome New Year and Owen canceled as soon as he heard Jimmy would be there- though Jimmy’s the one who initiated it, so he should’ve known anyway. Scott wishes that Owen and Jimmy could just get on a bit better, but at least Owen has Lilith, his enbyfriend, to vent to this all about- it’s just difficult to juggle the two clashing personalities.

He runs faster, his legs burning and his snakes hissing quietly in his ear, urging him to keep going. Making sure to push up his shades, Scott takes a long sip from his water bottle, pushing himself to go further, faster, his blood beginning to boil. Maybe he’ll burn away everything he hates about himself, maybe the fire will cleanse him, melt the ice, make him who he’s supposed to be.

He wonders what his friends would think of him if one day, he showed up perfect, just how he’s always wanted to be. He’s certain that then, they’d look to him as the leader, and he’d be able to make it so Owen and Jimmy would be friends, and he’d finally be able to stop thinking about the canary who dominates his mind night and day.

Scott slows to a stop, breathing heavily with his hands on his legs, bracing himself to stay upright. His sweat drips off his face, landing in patterns on the pavement that merge with the rain that’s beginning to fall, gently, from the sky, cascading onto the lake beside him. The ice is finally beginning to melt; it’s too cold for early April. It hasn’t snowed in months, and yet somehow, it’s still consistently below freezing during the day, as well as at night. Scott could really do with some sunshine, the coming of spring always seems to set him right.

The drops fall down from the sky, causing him to shiver. He really needs to get to Jimmy’s: that’s where they’re meeting up, though Scott’s never been to Jimmy’s house before, and the avian seemed quite hesitant to make that their meeting place. But Joel’s sister has some sort of soccer thing and obviously, Scott’s house is completely out of the question.

So to Jimmy’s he runs, pulling out his phone and checking the address to make sure he’s on the right route to… what was it- ah, right; 156 Norman Flick Avenue. Fantastic. Scott has no idea where the heck that is, so he pulls up Gugol Maps, luckily finding he’s traveling in about the right direction. But it’s almost 11:00 in the morning, and he needs to hurry if he wants to be there on time.

It’s at times like this that Scott curses himself for choosing to run everywhere, because it’s just another one of his stupid decisions, and he misses feeling good about himself, he misses feeling like he’s worth something. But he’s not and that’s the hard part: remembering that all those times in elementary school, when he kissed boys and ran around getting mud all over his clothes, only serve to incapacitate him now.

Owen knows about the mud part, everyone does, they laugh at his school pictures where his snakes almost always had chips of the stuff stuck between their scales, Scott’s gap-toothed grin happier than anyone’s seen him in years. But no one knows about the time when he and a kid he’d met at a field trip to the zoo in Laurtentown, a city slightly south of the one Scott lives in, had kissed in the corner by the lion exhibit.

Scott remembers the boy had been about his age at the time, so eight, maybe a little younger, and had been walking around with his- well, at the time Scott had assumed they were his parent, but he remembered how the boy had looked to them with almost reverence, as if they had the absolute final say, which just doesn’t feel like the way one would look at a parent. But of course, he wouldn’t know anything about parents, would he…

Scott could barely convince the boy to leave them when they had started talking. Somehow, he had gotten the boy, who’d been wearing a huge sweatshirt that made it hard to judge his species- all Scott remembers is the shock of scruffy blonde hair and huge, trusting brown eyes- to follow him with his class, and they had ended up kissing in front of the lion exhibit.

It was just a tiny, experimental peck on the lips, the kind that all people try out at some point in their childhood- and yet Scott remembers how the boy’s eyes had widened, and how he had run off immediately after, seemingly quite spooked. Scott had called after him, wondering if he’d done something wrong, but the boy hadn’t turned back.

Scott’s wanted to find that boy for a long time since, but he doesn’t even know his species; and if the other boy was to try to find him, Scott hadn’t needed his shades yet, and he’d been wearing a hat: the only way the boy would be able to identify him would be from his features alone, which have changed a lot since then. His eyes have gotten more cyan, his temperament a lot more anxious and depressed.

He’s lost the innocence he had when he was a child, he’s lost the feeling that he’s okay, the knowledge that there’s someone out there who loves him. There is no one who loves him. How could anyone, when he’s this, this aberration, cyan where he should be green, wrong where he should be right, thinking of boys when he should be of girls?

How could he ever be anything but a mistake? He can feel tears prickling up behind his eyeballs, but he won’t cry, he can’t cry, then he’ll just be proving that he’s even weaker than everyone already knows- oh, god, he hasn’t cried since his powers came in, has he. It’s been a long, long time.

It was third grade, and Scott had just turned nine. Gorgon petrification comes in at ages eight to twelve, depending on genetics and environmental factors, and Scott’s doctor had predicted that, based on his father and other relatives, his powers would activate when he was about nine. So obviously, on his ninth birthday, he jumped out of his bed and ran down the stairs with excitement.

Had his powers come in? Could he petrify things? He hadn’t known, and it had made him giddy just thinking about how cool he might be now, cooler than Kymora, another gorgon who he’d had an intense rivalry with at that point. He would show them all. Just because his snakes and eyes were a weird color didn’t mean he’d be weird. He was just special. At that point, his father hadn’t been as strict and criticizing as he is now, but he’d still been quite expecting of his son- and Scott didn’t want to let him down.

But his situation with Father didn’t get really, genuinely bad until that morning, the day he’d turned nine, when he ran down the stairs, and upon reaching the bottom, had keeled over and nearly passed out. His eyes had hurt, he remembers, the pain intense and freezing. It felt like someone had been poking them out with an ice-cold poker, twisting it around in his sockets. And so, obviously, he started crying. He was nine, what else was he supposed to do? He hated pain, still does- the way it twists around and seems to whisper, we’ve got you now. There is no escape.

His father was so unspeakably angry when the feeling had subsided, Scott creaking his eyes open, the tears he had just cried freezing on his face. Everywhere he looked, something else froze. And every time something did freeze, it hurt his eyes, a new jab of intense pain, trying to keep his tears coming. His father had almost hit young Scott, curled into a ball on the lush cashmere rug, sobbing and choking on his own spit freezing in his throat.

From that day onward, Scott’s father has always hated him, utterly and completely, without a shadow of a doubt. This was when the peanut butter jelly sandwiches started being his only food, when Father started sending him to private schools and counselors and religious specialists- anyone who had any possibility of “fixing” him.

This was when Mother left, promising she’d be back within a week, swearing to his father that she wasn’t leaving for her cult forever. But she hadn’t come home, and Scott was left scared and alone with only his vengeful father, and the knowledge that he’d singlehandedly broken his family, to keep him company. He hasn’t thought about this in a long, long time.

How the time flies when you’re thinking about traumatic events; he’s almost at Jimmy’s now, his feet pounding against the asphalt, the rain freezing to ice when it hits him. Scott’s body temperature has always been lower than normal, even for a gorgon, and it had just decreased further when his ice came in- meaning that sometimes, when he’s feeling negative emotions really intensely, the surface of his skin is cold enough that water freezes on it.

He groans, peeling bits of ice off of his arms, wishing that he could just calm down and get to Jimmy’s. The avian always seems to get him back to a reasonable state, whether it’s just subconsciously by talking about the randomest shit, or when he’s consciously trying to cheer Scott up. It’s only been a month and already, he can’t even try to imagine a world where he hadn’t met the avian.

Jimmy makes everything better, just looking at him so often brings a smile to Scott’s lips, just thinking of him and Scott knows that things will be better with Jimmy around. He wonders which movie they’ll be seeing.

He’s reached Norman Flick Ave, and he slows to a comfortable pace, the wind brushing against his snakes, tiny hisses going off in his ears. He scans the houses, looking for the 156 that signifies Jimmy’s house. 124, 130, 134…

The road is quaint, kind of like the street that Scott’s family mansion decides to squat in the middle of, but this one has a slightly different vibe- perhaps due to the fact that there isn’t a giant estate smack-dab in the middle of the left side of the avenue. The houses are all very typical, two-story homes, each probably at least a hundred years old, with their creaking porches and slightly smoking chimneys.

Scott finds Jimmy’s at the end of the street. It’s the corner house, and he can see as he’s walking up that Joel’s already arrived- his humongous blue and white car is parked right outside, and Joel himself is standing in the middle of the sidewalk, tapping his foot. Scott waves, and Joel catches his eye, a grin stretching across his face.

“Scott!” he yells, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Hurry up, mate, you’ve already almost made us late!”

Scott picks up speed, moving forward in a state somewhat between walking and running, until he reaches Joel. “Sorry, I ran all the way here- where’s Jimmy?” he asks, craning his neck so he can see the celestial’s face.

“He’s inside still,” Joel gestures with his thumb towards the house, “Getting ready, I think, but you can knock if you’d like,”

“Sure,” Scott agrees, stepping up the stairs to Jimmy’s wrap-around porch, rapping his knuckles against the paint-splattered door. Almost immediately, it creaks open, a head poking out from behind the wood. But it’s not Jimmy’s.

“Well, hello, you must be Scott Smajor,” says a short girl, about Scott’s age, maybe a little younger. “Jim talks about you all the time- come on in! Oh, and Joel’s here, too- Joel, get your butt inside!”

“Hiii, Beks,” Joel calls, making his way towards the house. “Only problem is, I might not fit? Your house is made for tiny little avians, not a celestial like me.” He flexes his biceps, and Bek lets out a derisive snort.

“Wait- I feel like I’m in the dark here,” Scott says, confused. “Do you two know each other? Are you Jimmy’s sister or something- wait. Beks- I recognize that name. You’re a grade below us, right?”

“Wait.” Now it’s Beks’ turn to look confused. “Jimmy hasn’t told you about me?”

“No, I only know about you because of Joel- you two used to be like best friends, I remember.”

“Well, yeah- but Jim hasn’t told you the story?” Bek bites her lip. “Well, no, I guess he wouldn’t tell you the whole thing, but he hasn’t even told you the bit where he lives with me and my parents?”

“Wait. What?” Joel furrows his brows, leaning down to look Beky in the eyes. “No, he’s never told us any of that- come to think of it, he’s been quite private about his home life in general; I don’t think he’s ever mentioned it at all.” Looking back, Scott realizes Joel’s correct. He can’t remember a single time Jimmy’s willingly brought up where he goes after school, and even when someone else has brought it up, he’s always been really vague about answering.

“That’s…” Beks trails off, looking hurt and a little angry. “Jimmy! Get down here right this instant, or I swear, I will steal all your dresses again!” Oh. That’s right. Scott hasn’t seen Jimmy much outside school, and most of the time, he just wears typical clothes; but he had mentioned that this time he’ll be wearing a dress. Scott’s never seen Jimmy in a full on dress before, and he feels his cheeks flush because Jimmy’ll look even cuter than normal-

Oh, no. Why is this happening? He’s seen Jim in skirts a ton of times, almost every day for school, in fact- but for some reason, just imagining the avian in a dress hits completely different.

“What?” Jimmy’s voice is far away, floating down from up the stairs. “Are they here? What do you want?”

“Just get down here!” Beks yells, definitely angry now. Scott’s not sure if he should be here anymore, because it looks like there’s going to be some sort of family feud and he’s not sure he wants a part in that.

It seems like Joel’s had the same thought, muttering, “Should we…go?”

“No, it’s fine,” Beky sighs, looking up the steps. “Jimmy, get down here right now or I swear to god-”

“Just give me a sec, I’m almost done dressing- I’ll need to grab the hat downstairs anyway.” Scott flushes again at Jim’s words, looking slightly to the side. Joel catches his eye and gives him a quizzical glance, a slight smirk growing on his lips. Shit. He knows, or at least he suspects, that Scott’s gay- oh, no.

Scott looks away, crossing his arms over his chest. What the hell is this? He needs to stop this madness. He does not have a crush on Jimmy. He can’t have a crush on Jimmy, that’s non-negotiable. He is not allowed to like boys, it’s disgusting, it’s not something he should even be considering. But then he imagines the avian and he can’t help but smile, and all he wants anymore is to make Jimmy laugh-

What would Father say? Scott can almost hear the cold voice, pressing into his mind, whispering in his ears, a sneer upon his faceless father’s lips- You are nothing, nothing but a defective, worthless, disappointment- and now you tell me you’re in love with another boy? Get out of my house. Get out of my home. You’re not wanted here anymore.

Scott shivers, knowing this could very well be how his father reacts. He needs to keep himself a secret, from everyone, keep it secret keep it safe but he feels like he might be going insane-

He hears a creak from inside the house, the sound of a foot stepping down on a stair, and his head snaps up, gazing upon none other than Jimmy. He’s wearing a light green dress, long-sleeved with little white frills that cuff his wrists, his hair clipped back with an emerald clip that matches the gown perfectly.

It’s a bell dress, the many layers of the skirt making it poof up at the bottom, the abundance of lace just visible against Jimmy’s ankles. He’s chosen darker green tights to compliment the hue of his main garment, and his shoes are a lot like the typical black belt-buckle shoes, but they’re white instead, matching his cuffs and collar. Jimmy’s wings are floofed up in the back, his ear feathers popping in all directions, and the avian hasn’t noticed Scott yet, who’s stood stock-still in the doorway, taking in every bit of his appearance.

Scott feels like he’s seeing Jimmy for the first time, he’s radiant, his face lighting up in a smile when he sees them stood in the doorway-

He’s speechless. He can feel the warmth returning to his cheeks, even more than before, and he suddenly feels underdressed in his short-sleeved shirt that shows off his scrawny arms and his sweatpants, because Jimmy looks so nice- he realizes he’s probably been staring for a bit too long, and the avian’s blushing now too, their eyes meeting.

“Hi,” Scott mutters, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He still can’t get over how pretty Jimmy looks, with his dress ruffling in the breeze, his waist cinched with a white ribbon tied in a bow.

“H-hi,” the avian responds, barely a whisper, his eyes wide. Scott knows he should look away, knows he’s probably making this very weird for everyone else as well as himself, but Jimmy’s gorgeous, and is it really his fault that he can’t stop looking, can’t stop taking in every little detail of his appearance-

And then Beks clears her throat loudly and the spell is broken. Scott looks away, his face probably red as a tomato, Jimmy stood stock-still, like he’s not sure what’s just happened. Scott’s not completely certain either, all he knows is that one second he was fine, and the next he was just- gone. All logical reasoning, out the window.

“Jimmy, did you not tell them about me?” Beks asks, hands on her hips as she turns to the boy on the stairs.

“Huh?” Jimmy’s still focused on Scott, and he shakes his head, turning to Beky. “Oh, um, yeah, about that…”

“Jim!” Beky shrieks, her hands in the air. “Without me, you’d probably be dead or in a homeless shelter!”

Jimmy pales. “Beks- I don’t want- I’m not ready-”

“Okay, yeah, I get that, but you could have at least told them I exist! I’m basically your sister, and I care about you and so do they, so-”

“We’ll talk later. I need to go or we’ll be late,” Jimmy states plainly, “I can’t talk about this right now, Bek.” He walks down the stairs, his shoulder brushing against Scott’s as he steps outside.

“Jimmy-” Beks pleads, trying to reason with him.

But the door closes and he’s shut her out. “Sorry about that. Shall we- uh-” His voice trails off when he meets Scott’s eyes, blushing hard and moving his eyes to the ground. “Shall we get to the movie? Joel, you’re driving us, right?”

“...Yeah, I am,” Joel says, squinting his eyes at the both of them as if he’s trying hard to figure something out. And Scott feels like something’s changed too, though he can’t quite tell what it is, but there’s a new feeling in the pit of his stomach- or maybe not a new feeling, just a dormant one that’s grown stronger, pulling him towards something, a realization.

They all pile into Joel’s car, the celestial taking the driver’s seat, Scott and Jimmy sharing the backseat, seated almost uncomfortably close to each other. Scott risks a glance over to Jim, and then notices that the avian’s already looking at him. Their eyes meet and Scott moves to look away, he does hate eye contact, but something keeps him there.

Jimmy’s eyes are big and brown, a color you wouldn’t expect to see on a bird. It’s lighter than you would think, not the deep black of Bek’s, but not the light green usually seen on a canary. They’re beautiful, Jimmy’s beautiful, and Scott has to beat the feeling down because he is not doing this, this is not an option.

As much as he wants it to be, it’s not.

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m0ther-of-p3arl · 1 year

Text

breathe be still

(robert aeor high au p8)

masterpost

part 8?!?!?! omg?!?!? ahhh sorry it's been awhile- i got stuck on part 9 and generally wait to post the next chapter until the one after it is done lmao- but uh yea enjoy!!! ALSO ALSO the return of jimmy pov >:D

or, Scott's gone to Jimmy's and this is what happens next :0

TW: head injury, concussion, disowning, mentions of abuse and neglect, delirium, blood, etc.

(4906 words)

Jimmy has no idea what to do. He’s brought Scott upstairs to his bedroom and bundled him in blankets- he’s got a nasty cut on his face and he’s covered in ice for some reason, as well as a growing goose egg on his forehead. He’s calmed down a little bit since he came inside, just Jimmy’s presence seeming to ease him into himself a little.

And now Jimmy’s downstairs with the kettle on to boil, frantically googling “what do you do when the boy you like comes to your house at 9:45 at night looking like he’s been beat up sobbing and covered in ice” and for some reason there are just no results, the internet failing him right when he needs it- hasn’t anyone else ever been in this situation before?

He supposes probably not, and all he can do right now is thank the gods or whatever’s up there that Beks’ parents aren’t home right now, and Bek herself can be persuaded to keep a secret. Jimmy leans against the countertop, picking at his feathers. What on earth is he supposed to do with this? Scott looks horrific, he has a terrible cut on his cheek and Jimmy tried to clean it up for him, but it’s almost like he’s delirious- he’s not making complete sense, his words quiet and childish, and Jimmy’s scared, scared for Scott and for whatever happened to him.

The steady whistle of the kettle crescendos to a keening scream, and he quickly lifts it off the burner, pouring the boiling water into two mugs. He plops in an orange spice tea bag for himself, and a mint one for Scott, because the gorgon loves everything mint-flavored, whether it’s synthetic or natural. Jimmy cracks open his freezer and puts two ice cubes into each cup, watching them slowly melt away into the water, the steam slowly decreasing until there’s none, just the cups of liquid sitting silently on the countertop.

Jimmy sighs and picks them up, ascending the stairs and haphazardly opening the door to his room, both cups clutched in one hand. Scott’s huddled on Jimmy’s bed, the comforter pulled around him like he’s a cat, his face the only part visible. His head pokes up when the door creaks open, fear creasing across his features, eyes wide and mouth half-open in an unspoken yell until he realizes it’s Jimmy.

“Oh, it’s just you.” Scott visibly relaxes, his snakes shaking the now-melted ice off themselves.

“Just me,” Jimmy agrees, walking forward to sit next to Scott on the bed. “I have tea for you, it’s mint.”

“Mint’s my favorite,” Scott mutters, reaching out for the teacup. Jimmy plops it into his hands, and Scott breathes in the smell for a couple of seconds, eyes closed, before taking in a big drought, both hands still wrapped around the ceramic surface as he drinks.

“I know it is, that’s why I chose it,” Jimmy explains, taking a small sip himself. “So, uh…why are you here?”

Scott shivers. “I did a bad thing.”

“...What do you mean?” Jimmy asks, concern probably showing plainly on his face.

“I mean I yelled at him. And he said ‘no, you’re no son of mine,’ and then he threw a vase at me and said, ‘get out!’. So I got out. And this is the place I came to.”

“How is he kicking you out of the house and throwing a vase at your head- I’m sorry, how is that your fault? And I’m assuming you’re talking about your dad?” Jimmy’s appalled; what a horrific way to treat your child. Sure, Patty would get mad sometimes, but she never was genuinely abusive- or he doesn’t think she was. Jimmy supposes he wouldn’t really know. But the gorgon’s voice is shaking, and Jimmy can tell he’s not entirely in his right mind; if he had to guess, he’d say that Scott probably has a decent-sized concussion.

“B-because I’m the one who made him angry,” Scott says, staring into his mug, covered in water. “He got mad that I had a phone and he got mad that I was talking to you because you wear dresses, and I said, ‘that’s what makes him comfortable, shouldn’t you wear what makes you comfortable?’ and Father said no, and he said you were gay and that was bad, but what he didn’t know is that I’m the one who’s gay and I told him I was and he- he said to get out.

“So I got out but not fast enough and he threw a vase at my head, and now I’m a-alone, and I didn’t have anywhere else to go-” Scott’s shaking even harder now, his eyes clouding up with fear. Jimmy feels so bad for him, it must be terrible to be kicked out of your home by someone you’ve known your whole life- at least Jimmy had chosen to leave, at least he hadn’t been evicted. Also- he feels terrible for thinking about this in this moment, but Scott’s gay?! That’s a bit of a revalation- and one that works in Jimmy’s favor.

“Shh, hey, it’s okay, you’re safe now, I’m here,” he says, putting down his almost untouched cup of tea and scooching closer to Scott, wrapping his arm around the shivering mass of blankets. “It’s not your fault. I don’t think any of this is your fault- I think your dad is a bad person who feels bad about himself, so he takes it out on you and other people too. If you don’t mind me asking, why did you come to me, exactly? Doesn’t Owen live a lot closer, like on the same street kind of closer?”

“I don’t mind,” Scott breathes in, obviously trying to calm himself. “Owen has, like, fifteen sisters, and he is my best friend, but I just think I felt like it would be safer to go to you. I dunno. And I couldn’t go to Shelby’s because her house is too small, also it’s miles away, even further than yours. Plus it’s Gnome New Year and I don’t want to intrude on that, it’s like her favorite thing.”

“And Joel?” Jimmy prompts, trying to keep Scott talking so he can gauge the level of damage, particularly the cut on Scott’s cheek and the bruise that’s slowly spreading all over his forehead.

“Joel’s parents h-hate me. They always have, and her sister thinks I’m a terrible person. I don’t like her. She reminds me of Father.”

“Okay, I guess that makes sense.” Jimmy reaches a hand towards Scott’s head, and the gorgon scoots away. “Oh, sorry- I should’ve asked, do you mind if I take a look at your head? We might need to use an ice pack.”

Scott relaxes. “Sure, I can make one.”

“What do you mean, ‘make one’?” Now Jimmy’s confused, furrowing his brow in a way that apparently looks quite funny, because Scott laughs, the tiniest grin Jimmy’s ever seen ghosting across his face for a split second.

“I probably should’ve told you this sooner- can I have like a wet washcloth?”

“Sure,” Jimmy says, standing up and walking to the bathroom, grabbing the cloth from the hanger and running it momentarily through the water that seeps from the faucet before returning to Scott.

“Thanks,” he mutters, grabbing the sopping cloth and lifting his shades.

Jimmy only has a moment to realize how gorgeous Scott is when you can see his whole face, how much his eyes shine in the dark room, the bright cyan almost glowing against his skin- his snake-like slit pupils that are for whatever reason just extremely attractive. And then something flashes within them and suddenly, the washcloth is frozen stiff, ice coating the wet fabric.

“What the-” Jimmy’s own, unspecial, eyes widen, because since when can Scott freeze things with his eyes? Since when is this a thing that someone who isn’t an ice celestial might possibly be able to do- and even they freeze things with their touch, not their vision, as Jimmy’s learnt from Aimee, another of Beks’ friends.

“That’s why I have to wear my shades even though I can’t petrify,” Scott explains, pushing them back up, over his eyes, and shoving the almost solid block of ice towards his head before Jimmy catches his hand, stopping Scott dead in his tracks.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he says, very aware of the fact that Scott’s staring at him with gorgeous eyes that drive a spike into his middle even through the glasses. “A giant block of ice isn’t gonna do anything. Can I?” Scott nods, looking away, and Jimmy takes the washcloth, holding it tightly in his hands for a few seconds until the ice begins to slightly melt.

“I might need to touch your snakes,” Jimmy warns Scott. “I’ll try my best not to, but it might happen and you gotta know that so it doesn’t come as a surprise.”

Scott nods, muttering something Jimmy can’t quite make out. “What did you say?” he asks, still pretty unsure of how to go about ice packing Scott’s head, his hands hovering awkwardly.

“I said, I don’t care if you accidentally touch my snakes; so long as it’s you, it doesn’t matter,” Scott says slightly louder, looking anywhere but Jimmy. And he isn’t sure, but he thinks there’s a slight redness spreading across Scott’s cheeks- and that just brings Jimmy back to this morning, when he’d walked down the stairs in his dress and Scott had been there, total jumpscare, with he same blush adorning his face.

He can’t help but remember how the gorgon had looked at him like there was no one else in the world, like tunnel vision- and if he’s completely honest, he hadn’t really needed a backrub at the movie theater; it would have calmed him down just as much to simply brush his hair, and he'd had a brush with him just for that very reason.

But Jimmy’s a selfish person and he wanted a backrub from his crush.

“Jimmy,” Scott says, bringing him out of his thoughts, “My head hurts.” Jimmy’s eyebrows crease, and he moves forward, finally bringing the cold washcloth to Scott’s forehead with one hand, looping the other around to the backside of his head to support.

“I know it hurts, I think you’ve got a concussion,” Jimmy says, shaking out his wings. “I should really get you to a doctor, huh.”

Scott shakes his head suddenly and violently, wincing at the motion. “No. I don’t want to see a doctor. I don’t like doctors, all they’ve ever done is try to fix me and I don’t want to be fixed.” There’s genuine fear in his face, the kind that only comes from experience.

“O-okay,” Jimmy agrees, slightly taken aback by the outburst. “That’s… fine, then, I guess. But you need to keep your head still or it’ll just make it worse.” Scott mutters consent, and Jimmy reassumes his position, pressing the frozen cloth against Scott’s temple. They sit like that for a while, Scott still huddled in his blankets, Jimmy crouching next to him, very aware of the way his thumb is resting on Scott’s cheek, the skin soft and cold. And then Scott’s eyes flick momentarily in his direction, and suddenly a rope is connecting his and Scott’s minds, glowing and strong and-

For a split second, Jimmy feels like he’s somewhere else, a place that feels at once familiar and completely wrong. He’s in a movie theater, just a little kid, walking by the side of a much taller man. He knows instinctively that the man is his father, a person he admires and hopes to be just like one day. They’re going to see a new thirty-minute movie, a weekly tradition that he loves because it’s one of the only times he’s allowed to be with Father.

And then the vision is gone, leaving him shaken and confused- he’s not sure if Scott’s seen it too, if the shock on the gorgon’s face is just his own imagination playing tricks on him or if something really did just happen- and if so, how? Neither of them bring it up, though- because Jimmy absolutely doesn’t want Scott thinking he’s crazy. So he keeps his mouth shut and continues pressing the ice to Scott’s forehead.

“How old are you?” The gorgon breaks the silence with the strangest question imaginable; has Jimmy really never told him that?

“I thought you knew,” Jimmy says, momentarily lifting the washcloth from Scott’s head so he can see him better. “I’m sixteen, I turn seventeen this August.”

“You’re almost a year younger than me,” Scott notices, looking Jimmy in the eyes in such a way that makes the avian shiver slightly, because Scott is so good-looking, the cyan of his snakes and irises piercing and just very…

Well. Scott’s a lot. In a good way, but he’s just hard to look at sometimes because of the way Jimmy’s stomach turns. He’s had a crush on Scott almost since the day they met, it developed within a week and now he’s fallen hard, deeply infatuated with a boy who’ll never like him back. But god, he’s just so…

When it comes to Scott, there are no words.

And the worst part is, Jimmy doesn’t think he knows how gorgeous he is, how much he flusters Jimmy whenever he even looks in his direction. It’s infuriating, the way that he’s

“Sixteen?” Scott asks, shaking off the comforter a little bit, his clothes soaked through. “You look older. You’re very pretty for sixteen.” He looks away at the last words, blushing slightly. Jimmy’s definitely not imagining that this time- oh, god, Scott must be so delirious right now, probably doesn’t even know what he’s saying.

“Um… thank you,” Jimmy says, his own cheeks probably red-hot at this point as he fidgets with the hem of his nightgown nervously. “You’re really nice-looking too, actually.” Oh, god, what is he saying, he’s so hopeless-

Scott turns in his direction, cheeks still flushed but seemingly determined to keep this conversation from going awkward. “Do you have anything for me to wear? I’m cold, my clothes are all wet.”

“Um, I guess you can borrow some of my pajamas, the only things I have are nightgowns though.”

“That’s fine, I’ve always wanted to wear more dresses but Father wouldn’t let me,” Scott explains, making to stand up.

“Oh, no, mister, you are not going anywhere. I’ll show you the options and then leave so you can get changed, okay?” Jimmy admonishes, shaking his finger and standing up off the bed, pulling open the sliding bamboo door to his closet and leafing through his garments. He’s pretty certain that he and Scott are about the same size, the gorgon’s only a couple inches taller and they have about the same build: slim and short.

Jimmy pulls off three of his comfiest nightgowns, one a deep maroon red fabric, silky and not very warm, but very nice for summer nights; one is bright purple, very fluffy and warm; but the last is Jimmy’s favorite of all, a light blue nightgown made of a soft cottony fabric, not too smothering but not too cold. And just as anticipated, when he shows them to Scott, the gorgon immediately points to the blue.

“Can I wear that one?” he asks, running his fingers along the fabric, seemingly infatuated with the texture of the soft fabric.

“Yeah, course,” Jimmy agrees, hanging up the other two back in his closet. “I’m gonna go get some food while you get changed, you can also take a quick shower if you need.”

“You don’t have scale grease though,” Scott points out, “So I wouldn’t be able to wash off my snakes.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Jimmy concedes, plopping back down on the bed momentarily, leaning up against Scott. “But it might be nice to just get warm again, right? You felt ice cold.”

Scott laughs silently. “I’m always ice cold. It’s part of the whole thing.”

“Sure. But still.” Jimmy doesn’t press it, but he makes certain that Scott knows if he wants to warm up, he has the option to. Then he makes his way downstairs, giving the gorgon a quick, supportive hug- because let’s be honest, Scott’s probably just had the worst day of his life, and he needs it.

But oh god this situation is so- Jimmy squeaks a tiny scream under his breath because ARGH.

As soon as he gets downstairs, he lets out an almighty groan and falls down onto the couch, limbs splayed every which way. What on earth is he doing? Scott can’t stay here, Laura and John would never allow it, they were even a little on the fence about taking Jimmy in.

But where else does Scott go? Jimmy can’t stand to see him so hurt, physically and mentally. He’s certain the gorgon’s delirious, at least to some capacity, and he doesn’t know what to do, because Scott doesn’t want to go to a hospital and Jimmy can’t drive anyway, also his phone’s out of battery and they don’t have a landline, so there’s none of that.

Plus, if he’s honest, he’s genuinely kind of flattered that Scott came to him over any of his other friends. He hadn’t thought they were that close, but apparently, Scott genuinely trusts him, and that makes Jimmy happy- not Scott’s situation, that part’s horrific, but he’s glad that what he said the first day they met really sunk in.

There’s just… so much to digest. Scott’s gay. Scott’s gay so technically, Jimmy stands a chance, though he can’t see what someone like Scott could ever possibly see in him, just a short, awkward little avian who can’t do anything right- and of course there is the fact that Jimmy’s just a curious little bird.

And it’s back, Patty’s voice is back, ringing in his ears- god fucking damnit, he hasn’t heard it all day- a part of him, a small part, has hoped that maybe, just maybe, it’ll be gone for good. He knows it’s silly to ever imagine that he’ll be free, that there will be a day when he won’t have to hide from the ghosts of his past, but he can’t help but hope- because all Jimmy wants is to be a normal kid, all he wants is to be safe and to fit in and have friends.

And now he’s finally found people who care about him, people who can be bothered to actually spend time with him (with the exception of Owen), and he loves them all so much: The way Shelby’s so kind to everyone but Joel, the way Joel pretends to take offense at all the little things but loves all of them so much anyway, the way Scott sits quietly in the backseat of the van, only half-listening to the conversation, before chiming in spontaneously, saying something so funny and deadpan that the rest of them keel over laughing.

Scott is… Scott is the kind of person Jimmy’s needed to meet for a very long time. He can’t imagine his life without the gorgon anymore, without his dry smiles and calm disposition and the emotional underside that Jimmy knows broils underneath, sharp and cutting and wishing for something more.

The only time Jimmy’s ever felt this way about someone was when Patty took him out for the first time, to the zoo in his old town, and he’d kissed a boy by the lion exhibit. Blue eyes and with the same bearing Scott has, but with more youthful exuberance, more of a wild side.

Jimmy’s wondered about that boy for a long time, and he pops into his head again as he grabs a bag of leftover samosas from the fridge, ascending the stairs and knocking briskly on his bedroom door. “Scott? You good? I brought food, can I come in?”

“Yeah, I’m dressed- I also made your bed, by the way.”

“Oh, you shouldn’t have done that.” Jimmy turns the doorknob, pushing open the entrance to his room. Sure enough, there’s Scott, tucked in on one side of Jimmy’s bed, all Jimmy’s blankets spread evenly atop of the gorgon.

“I wanted to be useful,” Scott mutters, Jimmy handing him a samosa as he tucks himself into bed as well.

“You were useful, but you also have a beast of a concussion. Did you clean your cuts too?” Jimmy adds, lifting up a finger to trace along the previously dark red slash on Scott’s cheek, now just a lighter shade of his skin tone, a slight pink peeking out from the inside of the cut.

Scott nods, and doesn’t resist Jimmy’s touch, instead flopping down against the pillows propped up against the back of the bed, head turned towards Jimmy, curiosity written on his features. “What was it like when you were a little kid? Did you ever do anything fun?”

“Hardly,” Jimmy laughs darkly, memories of the same rooms and the same house and the same people flashing through his mind. “I mean, I suppose there was one time when I went to the zoo.”

“What happened?” Scott’s invested now, Jimmy can tell.

“Well, I was seven or eight, and Patty, my guardian, was taking me to the zoo for the first time. Of course, I was super excited; I wanted to make friends and look at giraffes and all that kind of stuff. So she drove me there, and while we were looking at the orangutans, this boy, maybe a little older than me, came over from where his school was on a field trip and just straight-up asked if I wanted to be friends.

“Obviously, I said yes. I was so excited- I was really little, remember, so my wings hadn’t even fully grown yet. I don’t think he was fully matured yet either, as I couldn’t see any distinguishing features on him- he was wearing a hat, though, so I guess that could’ve covered horns or snakes or something. But anyway, I kinda ditched Patty to walk around with this boy, and then when we were in front of the lion exhibit, I dunno, he was kinda like, ‘Do you wanna kiss?’

“And I said, ‘Sure, why not?’ Because we were little, and everyone kisses someone when they’re little, just to kinda see, you know, what’ll happen. And so, we kissed, right? And I really don’t remember it that much but after that, I got really spooked and ran away just kinda left the boy in the dust, I could hear him calling after me but I didn’t respond because I was scared that Patty would be mad with me for interacting to such an extent with another person. And that’s, um, that’s about it, really.”

He’s expected to hear something more from Scott, so he’s slightly surprised when the gorgon doesn’t respond to his story at all. Jimmy turns in his direction and immediately recognizes the look on his face- an unbelieving stare full of questions that haven’t been answered.

“W-was the zoo in Laurentown?” Scott’s practically shaking, his eyes wide and confused.

“How did you know?” A suspicion is growing in Jimmy’s mind, but that’s not a possibility, there’s just no way- what are the chances, how would that even happen?

“I kissed a boy at the zoo in Laurentown when I was little.” Scott’s voice is hushed, trailing off as his eyes meet Jimmy’s. “I’ve w-wanted to find him ever since.”

Oh, god. There’s no way, this can’t be happening- but he’s leaning into the hope that maybe it is, maybe something’s brewing, maybe the truth was right under their noses the whole time.

“Me too,” Jimmy confesses, his heart beating out of control in his chest, the three feet separating him and Scott feeling like miles.

There’s really nothing to do except close the distance. Scott crawls across the bed towards Jimmy until their faces are close enough that the gorgon can reach out a hand to touch Jimmy’s face, cupping his cheek, cold and deep and real. Jimmy shivers, both from the touch and the frozen feel of Scott’s skin.

“I’ve missed you.” Scott’s voice is quieter than Jimmy’s ever heard it, and he has to remind himself that this is not his fairytale moment, Scott has a serious concussion and probably isn’t in his right mind, he really shouldn’t be letting this happen, but he needs to see-

Scott leans forwards and kisses him, quick and soft and too sudden for Jimmy to register anything other than the coldness of Scott’s lips, the chill of his skin in general, a direct contrast to Jimmy’s warm temperature. It’s only a moment, only a split second, and then it’s over and Scott smiles quietly at him, his eyes bright and hopeful, crawling back to his side of the bed.

Within a minute, Scott’s fallen fast asleep, Jimmy still petrified still in the same spot he’s been, the imprint of Scott’s hand still cold on his cheek, too shocked to do anything more than sit for a couple minutes. Then he sighs, resigned and shaking and not even sure how he’s feeling right now, and flops down on the other side of his bed, pushing his hands into his face with his wings spread akimbo.

This is not good. This is not good at all.

I mean, obviously Jimmy’s ecstatic that the boy he likes kissed him: that part goes without saying. But Scott’s delirious, he’s not in his right mind, anything he says could be a false memory, or something he thinks is true but isn’t- Jimmy doesn’t even know if he’s telling the truth about the kissing a boy at the zoo thing. But if so… he won’t let himself hope.

Jimmy’s been wondering what it would be like if he met the boy again for a long, long time, and now it turns out that potentially, zoo boy and Scott are the same person? That’s crazy. No, that’s actually insane. He lies there in silence for a couple more minutes before realizing that he’s been so caught up in all this that he’s forgotten to turn off the lights; Jimmy hops out of his bed, his gaze resting briefly on the gorgon snoring peacefully beside him, and flicks his finger across the light switch, darkness washing over his room.

He stumbles back to his bed and tucks in, pulling the blankets up above his head, his back pressed up against Scott’s. They really shouldn’t be sharing; Jimmy only has a small double bed and there really isn’t enough room. Plus, you’d think that having another person under the blankets would make it warmer, but Scott’s absolutely freezing. He’s warming up, but slowly, and Jimmy shivers, the cold stealing warmth from his body.

But he can’t have Scott sleeping on the couch, the gorgon has what looks like a beastly concussion, and Jimmy sure as hell isn’t gonna be sleeping on another couch in his life. He’s had enough of that back when he lived with Patty.

A part of him wonders why she hasn’t tried to contact him, wonders if she ever really loved him. Then he laughs, a dry snort that brings him back to his senses. She never loved Jimmy. She was rude and neglectful and only nice to him when he obeyed her, when he did what she wanted.

At least she’d let him wear dresses, though, even if it was only at home. The few times they went out, Jimmy remembers how he had to wear a giant hoodie to hide his bird-like features so Patty could pass as his mom, even in the heat of summer. Jimmy knows she’s still out there somewhere, knows he’ll probably have to see her again someday, whether it be in court or because she’s found him again, but it’s just oh so much easier to pretend she doesn’t exist.

His arms are resting behind his head, his wings tucked in closer so as not to disturb Scott, sleeping soundly besides him. Jimmy turns his head, his eyes following the gorgon’s back as it goes up and down with every breath, rhythmic and calm. Even his snakes are still, emitting quiet hisses every now and then, but other than that, not a sound comes from Scott- the snoring from earlier gone as if it’s evaporated.

If he concentrates, he can still feel the cold of Scott’s lips on his own, still feel the imprint of the hand on his cheek.

Goodness gracious.

Jimmy supposes he should get to sleep- though it’s a Saturday today, so no school tomorrow, he’ll have a lot of explaining to do anyhow. John and Laura are not going to be pleased that he has a boy sleeping in his bed- but maybe if he explains well enough, they’ll see how bad Scott’s situation is and let him stay for a little while.

He sighs deeply, stretching out his wings. As he does so, Scott turns in his sleep and grabs Jimmy around the middle like a little rag doll. Jimmy stiffens, the touch flipping over and over in his stomach. Cautiously, he moves his hands atop of Scott’s, both pairs resting comfortably around his waist. He needs to sleep, but he’s never felt more alive than right now.

It’s going to be a long fucking night.

#robert aeor high au #AUTHOR FELIX STRIKES AGAIN #scott smajor #smajor #smajor1995 #smajor95 #dangthatsalongname #solidarity #solidaritygaming #solidarity gaming #jimmy solidaritygaming #jimmy solidarity #jimmy #empires smp #empires fic

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m0ther-of-p3arl · 6 months

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I JUST FINISHED ROBERT AEOR HIGH AND I AM TRYING SO HARD NOT TO CRY BECAUSE IM ON THE SCHOOL BUS

GUYS. guys i fucking did it I DID IT i finished it ITS FINISHED i just have to edit the final chapter and then FUCK man FUCK this i CANNOT believe-

fucking hell i am so proud of myself

this is the first project I've ever properly finished.

i hope you guys like the final chapter. it should be up in a couple days. o7s in the chat for robert aeor high <333

i'll say more in the ending notes on ao3, but working on this fic has genuinely been a dream come true and i am so greatful for everyone who read it and left a comment (especially @shrimplylemonade who is gen the sweetest person ever apparently it's said so many nice things about rob aeor to me ;-; go follow her right this fucking instant) or reblogged or told friends about it.

for such a stupid self-indulgent fic, it's crazy to think that it's now over 50 kudos on ao3. i never thought it would get this far. thank you so much everyone, the curtain's coming up on the final act.

i hope you enjoy the last chapter of my fic, robert aeor high au

#felix and his rants #robert aeor high au #flower husbands #mutuals #(because i mentioned shrimp)

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m0ther-of-p3arl · 11 months

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who i was before

(robert aeor high au p11)

masterpost

i love how i say you might not get more writing for a long time and then just dump this on you the same day lmao

If he loses him… Jimmy doesn’t know what he’ll do, he doesn’t know what he’d say, he doesn’t know if he could go on living. Because these past seven months that he’s known Scott have been some of the best of his life, no, scratch that, the best months of his life. Jim grits his teeth, taking a couple seconds to lean against the wall and steady his breathing again. Why is this so hard?

or, finally things get a lil figured out (took them long enough)

tw: all the usual thingies

(3306 w)

The beat is steady, one after another after another after another, predictable. It doesn’t change as he breathes in and out and in and out, trying to calm his flooded nerves, everything too bright or too cold or too loud or too rough. He can’t handle it, so he focuses on his heart, the same steady rhythm pumping out again and again and again, his breath ragged and cutting into his lungs.

Jimmy is shaking again. He can’t stop shivering, pulling his blankets over himself and staring out at the star-flooded sky. He was so close. Scott had been there, just… there, inches away from his own face, so close it had made Jimmy’s heart ache, beating much faster than the slow, laboring tread that pumps in his chest now.

But honestly: what had he been thinking? Scott’s made it very clear, abundantly clear, that he doesn’t like Jimmy- he always pushes away after extended physical contact, always keeps an extra six inches of space between him and Jimmy at all times, and altogether is just… he’s so obvious about the level to which he is not interested in Jimmy, and yet Jim just keeps trying, and oh god, he’d almost kissed Scott down there-

Jimmy shudders harder, no longer accustomed over these six months to sleeping alone. He’s used to Scott, right on the other side, breathing shallowly and purposefully, the gentle, repetitive noise having lulled Jimmy to sleep many a night. But now he’s not here, he’s probably decided that he can’t stand the sight of Jimmy, he’s probably so disgusted by what the avian’s just done that he can’t even think to live in the same house as him.

Jimmy’s ruined everything, he’s made a mistake, a terrible mistake, and now everything is horrible and he’s hated and despised by the only person he’s ever thought to love-

The tears he’s been holding back begin to drip through his eyes, and he curls into the fetal position, wings pulled around him on all sides, the familiar texture of his feathers blanketing his shivering arms. He doesn’t even know what Bek had wanted when she’d called him upstairs, but once he left, he knew he couldn’t go back, Scott probably would’ve just gotten more embarrassed.

After all, Scott’s genuinely the strongest, funniest, and most sensitive person Jimmy’s ever known. What could he ever see in the likes of the sniveling avian who can’t do anything right? And now he knows Jimmy’s past- he had just felt so comfortable standing there in the kitchen with his head leaning on Scott’s shoulder, it had felt like how everything was supposed to be.

It was so comfortable that he absolutely just trauma-dumped on Scott. And not just a small trauma dump either; he’s literally just spilled his entire life story to the person he has to live with. The person who came to him for help when he was in need. These past six months have been torture enough, and Jimmy doesn’t need even more reason for Scott to be repulsed by him. He thought he was making progress with the gorgon, and now he finds he just… well, he’s kind of ruined everything, hasn’t he?

Plus, what he’s been through is dwarfed when compared to Scott’s struggles, the pain he’s probably gone through every day of his life. What does Jimmy have in comparison? A woman who took him from family he didn’t even know. The worst thing to happen to him in the past year is just the occasional breakdown, which really, just ridiculous when he remembers the fact that Scott got kicked out of his fucking house.

Jimmy needs to apologize. He needs to go downstairs and apologize right now, regardless of how awkward and embarrassing it might be, he doesn’t think he can live with himself if he doesn’t. He doesn’t know if Scott can live with him if he doesn’t, and though his stomach is a mess of worms gnawing at him from the inside out, it’s something that needs to be done. So he gathers himself up from the shaking mess he’s become, taking a couple deep breaths and smoothing out his nightgown.

The descent down the stairs is slow and quivering, each step an opportunity to go back, he hasn’t gone too far into this yet, if he wants he can just ignore it and never think of it again. But Jimmy’s ignored too many of his problems for too long, he ignored how wrong Patty was until the only viable option was to run away, he ignored his homelessness for the better part of three months, because surely anything was better than Patty, right? And worst of all, he’s completely ignored all the problems that he and Scott need to iron out if they want to have a healthy friendship.

Jimmy is not a brave canary. But he’s willing to do whatever it takes to keep Scott, even if it’s just as friends. Because Jimmy is in love and that knowledge is like a fire burning in the pit of his stomach, propelling him onwards until he’s stood in front of the basement door, taking in the flaking jade green paint, his hand hovering, shakingly and indecisively, above the golden knob.

Is he really going to do this? Is this really the best move? He realizes how easily it could all backfire, blowing up in his face like a ticking time bomb. Scott could be so angry, or sad, or just- Jimmy catches himself, breathing in and out, in and out, trying to calm his anxiety. It’s fine. Scott’s not like that. That’s not going to happen. All he wants is his friend back, he reminds himself, all he wants is a friend. That’s it. That’s all.

(it’s not but he has to pretend or it’s too much it’s too much too much too much-)

And he lowers his hand to the doorknob, turning it slowly, almost excruciatingly so, and pushing the door open. More stairs open beneath him, like a maw trying to swallow him up, but there’s no going back now. Scott’s almost certainly heard the door open, and if Jimmy chickens out, it’ll just make more confusion and problems that spiral onward and never get fixed.

Jimmy’s always been a curious little bird.

Step by step by step, Jimmy walks slowly down to the basement, his heart going off like a rabbit cage in his chest. He is so unspeakably nervous, there are no words, no metaphors, that one could use to describe it other than the simple fact that he is terrified. It needs to be done, he keeps reminding himself, he needs to apologize for the better of all of them, it needs to be done. And he’s almost crying now, shaking harder than ever, because he loves Scott, he loves him more than he’s ever loved anyone before.

The realization hits him before he realizes what it is, a sudden dread spilling over him like uncooked egg white before he can figure out what it means.

If he really wants there to be no deception, no falsehoods and confusion between them, he’s going to have to tell Scott he likes him. And that could just make everything worse, but maybe it could make everything better, Jimmy doesn’t know, he doesn’t know, he just doesn’t know-

It’ll be worth it, he reminds himself, it’ll be worth it in the end. He has to get this over with. It’s not even an option anymore, it’s a necessity. He can’t back out now, no more skittish avian, Jimmy’s going to be strong and brave and worthy of Scott. He peels himself back from the wall and continues down the stairs, a steady rhythm of steps that he doesn’t break. Step, down, pause, step, down, pause.

Until he turns the corner and there’s Scott, sat stony-faced on the couch, staring straight ahead at nothing. Most people wouldn’t be able to see it, but Jimmy’s eyes catch on the slight glimmer in Scott’s, and he pushes forwards to join the gorgon on the sofa.

Neither of them say anything for a long time, the feet between them feeling like miles and the air in the basement almost bitingly cold.

“I’m sorry,” Jimmy blurts out when the silence gets too excruciating and it’s clear Scott isn’t going to say anything. “I’m sorry I got spooked and ran off and- I’ve been such a terrible friend, I’m so dishonest- I’m so damn sorry about everything, Scott.”

“Jimmy-” The gorgon’s voice breaks, and he turns his head down towards his lap, pulling his knees up to his chest. “You’re so… you’re fucking perfect, you know that?”

“Wha- no!? Look, I’m trying to apologize here, I’m not fishing for compliments,” Jimmy rebuffs, completely taken aback. He can feel the heat snaking through him and resting decidedly on his cheeks, where he’s sure the red must be spreading rapidly.

“You think-” Scott laughs tiredly, leaning his head on his knees to look towards Jim, “You think you’ve messed up somehow? How is that even possible? You’ve been through so much, and you’re still thinking of others before yourself. You probably haven’t ever said a negative word about anyone in your life, and I just- you’re so strong. So strong. And you’re pretty, and smart, and funny and just- how on earth are you friends with me? The stupid, traumatized gorgon who can’t do anything right?” How can Scott think of himself like that?

“I have messed up, Scott!” Jimmy needs him to see it, he needs someone to agree with him, because what he’s done is wrong, it’s wrong, it’s wrong. “I’m not strong and I’m not perfect and I really haven’t been through all that much to be honest with you, all that’s happened is a stupid person took me from family I never even got the chance to know. Let me apologize! I’m sorry for everything and if you want to move out, you are absolutely welcome to. Please don’t feel like you’re obliged to stay here because that was the choice you made when you weren’t feeling right in the head.”

Scott’s face goes bright red, his mouth hanging slightly open like he hasn’t quite formulated what he wants to say yet, glaring at Jimmy with tears in his eyes. “You think I could ever leave you?! How could anyone ever leave you, even if they wanted to- I’m genuinely hurt that you think I could do that. I lo- I really value you, Jim.”

“THEN WHY DO YOU PUSH AWAY WHENEVER I GET EVEN A LITTLE BIT CLOSE?!” Jimmy yells, all his other feelings being swiftly replaced with confused anger. He takes a deep breath and continues, his words measured but still not without a slight sting that he can’t quite keep out.

“If you value me so much- and like hell that’s the word you were going to use- then why don’t you show it? Why do you leave me just- if I’m so important to you, then why don’t you ever talk to me? Why do you keep this distance between us? It fucking hurts, Scott, especially considering you’ve lived in my house for six months now. If I’m really so perfect and strong and- and desirable as a friend, then what is your reasoning for staying so… I would say cold, but that’s a bit punny, isn’t it.” He laughs mirthlessly, fists clenched tight to his crossed legs, tension defining his body.

“Because I already almost ruined things. Twice. And I’m trying not to do that again.” He’s infuriatingly calm, the only emotion displayed on his face is a sweet, broken sadness.

“That’s all you have to say?! You haven’t ruined things, Scott, you’re literally the reason I haven’t killed myself yet. Yes, you,” he adds at Scott’s shocked expression. “What on earth do you mean you ‘almost ruined everything’?! You. Are. The. Reason. I’m. Still. Here.” Jimmy crawls forward, punctuating each word with a sharp jab of his finger to Scott’s chest.

“I kissed you, Jim.” The anguish in Scott’s face is almost enough to make Jimmy break, the sadness and lost possibilities expounding in his face. “I kissed you and then I kept- I keep almost doing it again. That’s why I’m keeping my distance.”

“You think I care, you idiot?” Jimmy growls, tossing his hands up into the air exasperatedly. “You think that changes anything?”

“Jimmy, you don’t understand!” Scott’s waxing patronizing now, and Jimmy can see how hard he’s trying to get his point across.

“What don’t I understand? Try me, I bet you’d be surprised.” He crosses his arms challengingly, almost smirking at Scott’s blush. He’s way past the point of being scared now, and honestly can’t remember why he was even worried in the first place.

“I- I kept wanting to kiss you. I still want to kiss you almost every time you look at me.” The truth written on the edges of Scott’s voice hits Jimmy more than he’d thought it would, and he has to fight hard to stop from shivering.

“Then do it.” Scott likes him.

“What-” Jimmy knows it’s true.

“You heard me. Go ahead then, I’ve given you my consent,” Jimmy says, heart beating out of control, too fast for him to even consider trying to slow down.

“A-are you sure?” Scott asks, fidgeting nervously with the hem of his shirt.

Jimmy almost cries after he laughs, months of worry and distance about to be resolved. “Scott. You know me. Would I be asking if I wasn’t?”

Scott doesn’t answer, looking sadly off to the side, but his silence speaks a thousand words.

“So kiss me, you absolute fool. I’m ready for it.”

And Scott does, lips pressing into Jimmy’s, moving gently, softly, frozen.

Almost immediately, Jimmy is drowning. He is deep beneath the ocean and he is flying through the stars and he was absolutely not ready for this, why did he ever say he was, Scott’s lips are so cold- Jimmy’s hands are shaking in his lap, and he wants more than anything to pull them up to frame Scott’s face, he wants to touch every inch of the gorgon’s frozen skin, warm it up with his own hands.

But before he can, Scott’s frozen hands are gripping his, his mouth pushing forward into Jimmy’s, opening slightly, and his teeth are so sharp- Jimmy shudders at the feeling of them against his lips, and he wants nothing more than to push back, pull forward and wrap his arms around Scott’s neck, but he can’t, he can’t and he doesn’t know why-

“Was that okay?” Scott asks, pulling away, his cheeks flushed and eyes darting this way and that.

Jimmy is speechless.

How can Scott be saying that? It wasn’t okay, absolutely not, it was everything and more, it was a whole lifetime, a thousand novels full of words, packed into a single, intimate touch. Jimmy hasn’t properly known anything until this moment, and he’ll look back later and categorize his life into two parts: before the kiss, and after.

He already can’t stand the distance, pushing in on him from all sides, if he doesn’t get close to Scott he’ll pull away, and then Jimmy will be alone again, left in the basement by himself the same way he’d left Scott. But he can’t respond, he can’t speak, he can’t- he can’t do anything-

“Jimmy?” Scott’s lips form his name so perfectly, and it’s all he wants to hear, he never wants to listen to anything other than his name from Scott’s mouth ever again. “Are you- was it too much?”

No. “I- I can’t really- can’t really talk right now, sorry,” Jim mutters, swallowing quickly. “Um. Can I- can we do it again?”

“O-oh,” Scott looks surprised, and honestly, he’s so ridiculous, isn’t it the most obvious thing in the universe how much Jimmy loves him? “Yeah, sure, I’d- I think I’d like tha-”

Jimmy doesn’t wait for him to finish his sentence before he leans forward, pulling his arms around Scott’s neck and stealing another, strong and ferocious where the first was soft and safe, because he’s been missing out on this for so long, too long, are you kidding him? Scott’s hands reach up to ghost along Jimmy’s wings before landing in his hair, and Jim can feel him smiling gently against his lips and all his air is gone.

He is falling he’s falling he’s falling and falling and falling.

Jimmy shivers and he needs to be closer, he wants to feel all of Scott against him- he pulls back for a second to catch his breath and Scott grins, more confident and alive than Jimmy’s ever seen him. “You are such an idiot,” the gorgon whispers affectionately, leaning forward until their foreheads are touching and sparks are flying between them, the knowledge that this is what Jimmy’s been missing out on the past many months almost destroying him.

“So I’m the idiot now?”

Scott rolls his eyes and leans forward, kissing gently, insistently, over and over again against Jimmy’s mouth, fireworks going off between their lips as he pushes forward, all shivers and soft cold skin and full of life. Scott’s eyes are bright and hopeful, and the need for closeness is so overpowering that Jimmy just can’t help it anymore, climbing atop Scott’s lap before the gorgon can protest.

Jimmy moves his hands from Scott’s neck to his chin, cradling the angular point as he kisses over and over, gently removing Scott’s shades and setting them down beside them as he pushes forward, his lips moving from Scott’s mouth to his cheek to his nose to his forehead and all around again, tracing circles around the familiar face.

Scott’s shaking, little noises sprouting from the back of his throat, and his hands move to touch Jimmy’s waist, gently at first, then squeezing harder and harder as Jimmy’s kisses grow more intense, wishes finally given physical form. Jim’s arguably shuddering even harder than Scott, little noises perking up in the back of his throat as Scott’s hands press ever tighter into his midriff. Jimmy pulls away, and Scott takes his opportunity in earnest, pulling one of Jim’s hands away from his chin and kissing each of the fingers softly, gently, cold lips against Jimmy’s knuckles.

Their eyes meet each other’s and they’re both crying and laughing and-

“I’m sorry,” Jimmy says, wiping the tears from Scott’s eyes.

“You really apologize too much,” Scott laughs, pulling Jimmy close to him. He wants to melt away forever, he wants to fall into Scott and never leave.

“We’re both so stupid,” Jimmy laughs against Scott’s chest, strong arms cradling him so gently he’s going to break.

“I think that one might be on me, petal.” The affection in Scott’s voice is so genuine, so overflowing and real, that Jimmy breaks down into a fresh onslaught of tears, relief and anguish and months and months of yearning packed into a single shaking moment, together in each other’s arms, tears and laughter and finally, finally a solid understanding between the two of them as Scott gently presses his lips to the crown of Jimmy’s head.

“Do you want to finish the rest of the episode?” Scott asks. Jimmy nods against him, sniffling quietly away at his tears.

“Yeah.”

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m0ther-of-p3arl · 10 months

Text

every dead-end street

(robert aeor high au p12)

masterpost

*bonks this on you in a rush cuz imma be outta town the next 5 days or so*

He hears the door swing shut behind him, and turns to find Owen, pulling on his coat and jumping down the steps. Scott follows, the aching familiarity of the situation tainted by the gap that’s somehow grown acres between them, stifling the cool breeze that tosses Owen’s hair this way and that.

or, owen and scott reunion!!! also im not sure but this is possibly the longest chapter yet so :3

(5913 words)

Scott wakes in a cocoon of yellow feathers.

His face is pressed to someone’s chest, his arms wrapped around their middle and his hands pressed into their hair, legs intertwined with theirs, so familiar his heart aches.

Jimmy.

His eyes flash open as he realizes it’s him, the events of last night coming back to his mind in full, blazing technicolor. Lips and hands and warm, warm skin against his frozen exterior. Whispers and promises and episodes of goddamn High School Musical: The Musical: The Series.

He doesn’t want to move from his entangled position, it’s warm here, it’s safe. He doesn’t want to give it up, he’s so sure it was just a lapse of judgment on Jimmy’s part, but maybe if he stays still for a little while longer he can keep living in the fantasy. He clutches Jim tighter, nestling his face into the avian’s chest, breathing in the citrusy scent that he carries everywhere.

A pair of hands cup his chin and soft lips kiss his forehead. “Morning, Scott,” Jimmy’s familiar voice whispers, quiet and low, against his brow. Scott makes a muffled noise of protest, squeezing his eyes shut again, vaguely muttering something about how it’s too early and can they please just stay laying down for a bit longer.

Scott honestly can’t believe that he and Jimmy are, like, an item. It wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t a mistake. Somehow, by some miracle, Jimmy likes him. Jimmy kissed him last night, something he never thought would happen from anyone, much less the boy he was so sure he’d ruined things with such a long time ago.

Scott thinks he might have a boyfriend. And as much as he wants to stay wrapped up in Jimmy’s wings forever, his anxiety will never let him settle down into the comfort if he doesn’t get a few things straight.

“Jimmy,” Scott says, pulling himself up and immediately regretting it, because now he’s vulnerable and exposed to the world, upright under the blankets in his favorite blue nightgown.

“That is my name, yes,” Jimmy says sarcastically, yawning as he sits up as well, his wings floofing out behind him, somehow wrapping around Scott yet again.

“So are we dating now?” Scott’s hands irrationally shake as he asks this, it’s such a stupid question given the circumstances-

“I mean. We literally spent last night making out? So I would hope so, yes?” Jimmy answers, affectionate confusion leaking into his voice.

“I was just- you know- making sure,” Scott rolls his eyes, trying to presume his comfortable icy exterior, and from the look on Jimmy’s face, failing miserably.

“Mhm. Sure.” The avian pats Scott condescendingly on the shoulder, his face the worst facsimile of seriousness Scott has ever seen.

“I hate you,” Scott grumbles, pulling his face into a mock pout and crossing his arms with a huff, which just causes Jimmy to snicker even more.

“Love you too,” Jim smiles, what Scott thinks to be a genuine tone hidden underneath the snark . “So what’s the plan for today?”

Scott looks off into the distance, out Jimmy’s window at the rows of trees crossing through suburbia, his hands wrapped around each other so tightly he can see the knuckles turning even paler than his natural skin tone. “I… actually, I have something I need to do before anything else, but after that I’m free for whatever.” He can hear his voice shaking, and he’s sure it’s even more obvious to Jimmy, who plops back down and rests a hand on his back- which does calm him, though admittedly not much.

“Want me to come along?” Jim asks, his tone soft and unforceful.

Scott shakes his head. “Not this time.”

Jimmy nods. “I get it.” And the thing is, Scott can tell that he does.

It’s a long walk up the familiar neighborhood streets, all the turns imprinted permanently in Scott’s memory from years and years of walking the same routes around this stupid city. His feet scuff along the pavement, the sun shining down from a cloudless blue sky. The leaves are just starting to turn for autumn, tinges of yellow and orange peeking around the corners of imposing maple trees, the wind combing through branches to create a cacophony of rustling sound.

It’s been a while since Scott’s been in this part of town, and there’s a good reason why. It’s honestly terrifying, being so close to where it all happened, and Scott doesn’t even notice he’s shaking until he wraps his arms around himself for comfort. A part of him, and not an insignificant part either, wishes Jimmy was here to make things easier- and most of the time, that’s exactly what the avian does. But right now, with what he’s about to do, he knows that having Jimmy there would absolutely ruin any chances of reconciliation.

He’s been so lost in his thoughts that he walks right past his destination, before doing a double take and turning on his heel, walking back and standing right in front of a tan-colored, two-story house. It’s been so fucking long since he’s walked up these steps, knocked on the paint-peeling door, a familiar orange tiefling grin peeking out at him from behind him. It’s been so fucking long since he’s seen Owen at all, and he misses him more than he’d care to admit. He stands there, rooted still to the sidewalk, swallowing nervously, for what feels like hours, the seconds dragging by with every beat of his heart.

It’s not too late. He could turn back, head home and spend a quiet, uneventful day with Jimmy, forget this ever happened.

For a second, he almost considers it.

But he knows he can never live with himself if he gives up, he’ll curse himself for the rest of his life if he lets himself walk back home. So instead, he steps up the decaying wooden stairs, the porch leaning heavily beneath his weight as he trods across it and raps his knuckles loudly against the door. Paint peels off beneath his touch, joining the first fallen leaves in the wind and tumbling across the street. Scott turns idly to watch it blow away, his neutral face hopefully not betraying his rabbiting heart.

And the door creaks open behind him.

His head snaps back quickly, meeting a familiar pair of eyes as they peer through the crack of the door at him.

“...Scott?” Owen asks, confusion lacing his voice, and, Scott hopes, a little happiness too.

“Hi.” Scott tries for a smile, but it doesn’t quite land, and he’s certainly not about to force one if it won’t come. “Would you care to join me on a walk?”

“Sure,” Owen mutters, glancing behind him into the house. “Let me grab my coat, I’ll be right with you.”

Scott nods, taking long strides over to the side of the porch and leaning up against the railing, as he’s done so many times before. This whole house, this whole street, gives him deja vu, the memories almost tangible around every corner. But with the nostalgia comes a deep, crunching anxiety; he can barely contain his fear that he’ll see Father walking down the road, snakes hissing forebodingly and that familiar sneer that’s somehow even colder than Scott’s skin. In fact, he can just make out the roof of his old home, the Major Mansion, from here, and even the simple sight gives him shivers down his spine.

They walk in silence for a little, neither daring to speak, following the well-tread routes they’ve known since they were young, before they’d met; when the orange tiefling had just been a question living right down the road from Scott.

“So. Uh. How’s it been?” Scott asks, trying to keep his voice light and utterly failing, breaking quietly before he’s finished the sentence.

“How do you think?” Owen answers, for once not a trace of mirth on his face, his eyes full of annoyance and sadness and hope and loss, pointed stubbornly down at the pavement.

“I mean, you’ve kind of been ignoring me lately, so I wouldn’t really know,” Scott says, tone breezy enough to hide the anger simmering underneath. And that, that subtle, ignorable undertone, is enough to set it all ablaze.

“I’ve been ignoring you? Are you fucking kidding me?” Owen stares shocked, eyes wide and offended and more than a little bit angry.

“What else would you call” (Scott gestures to the space between them) “all this?”

“Pray tell, what would you consider ‘all this’?” Owen mocks his hand motions, making them seem wild and erratic, a judging, aloof expression blanketing his usually-smiling features.

“You know what I mean, Owen. You know me well enough to know what I’m talking about. The distance! The way we can’t even talk anymore, you ignore me all the time, don’t you know how hard my past many months have been?!” Scott seethes, dimly aware of the rims of his shades frosting over in the corners of his vision.

“What about me?” Owen grabs his shoulders and spins him around until their eyes have met, brown glaring into piercing cyan. “Have you asked even once, since you met Jimmy, how I’ve been doing? My parents are getting divorced, Scott, and I can’t even talk to my best friend about it.”

Scott’s struck momentarily speechless, because oh god, he didn't expect Owen to have a valid response, but quickly recovers, spitting, “You didn’t even try!”

“I did, though,” Owen sighs, kicking at the pavement. “I attempted to contact you about it on many separate occasions. But no, we always had to talk about you, you, you. Scott, you never even left me any room to get a word in edgewise!” He yells the last sentence, and Scott can see hints of tears in his eyes. Again, he’s slightly taken aback, he can remember maybe one time when he’s seen Owen cry, in all the years of them being best friends.

Maybe he doesn’t know the tiefling as well as he thought.

“I- How was I supposed to know, Owen? My dad kicked me out of the house and I had to move in with my crush. I had a lot on my plate, okay?” Scott fumbles, trying to find the right words, his confidence crumbling down rapidly.

“Apparently not enough to listen to your best friend’s problems in addition to talking about yours. I had my own shit going on, Scott, still do- and you couldn’t even be bothered to listen to it. And here you go again, talking about you. Like, I get it, okay? You’ve been through a lot and I’m sorry. Genuinely.” Owen pauses, turning around to face Scott. “But that doesn’t give you an excuse to neglect your duties as a friend. For a little bit, sure. But it’s been seven months.”

“Well, you didn’t-” Scott pauses midway through his sentence, breathing in deeply. “You know what, this is a stupid argument. Can we just forget about this? It doesn’t matter.”

“Yeah, Scott, actually, it does matter,” Owen hisses, broken and full of rage, his voice echoing across the neighborhood streets, earning him some nasty looks from passersby. “I love you, Scott, so much. You’re my best friend and I miss you. But I’m also your best friend, so sit down, take a second to think, and then tell me that you’ve been in the right here.”

“But-”

“Nope. Sit down by this tree and think.” Owen points authoritatively to the roots of an old oak sprouting out of the tree lawn, his mouth pursed, not giving room for an argument.

Fuming, Scott flops down, staring angrily through Owen’s knees. He’s not in the wrong. He’s had such a fucking tough time, nothing could possibly compare, his life has been tossed into the ocean and swallowed by a shark that was then gutted from the inside, its intestines held high for all to see.

But that doesn’t diminish Owen’s suffering.

Scott’s past few months have been hell, they have to be so much worse than whatever the heck’s going on with Owen. Like, Scott’s sure it’s been hard for him, but it can’t possibly have been as bad as Scott being kicked out of his house by his abusive father.

But that doesn’t mean Owen hasn’t had a hard time lately as well.

Scott has been in such a dark place, such a terrible headspace, such a just generally horrific time in his life, Owen’s not allowed to pretend like everything’s been all diddly dandy for him when it’s been the polar fucking opposite.

But Owen is his best friend and Scott’s supposed to be there for him.

Owen’s supposed to be there for Scott too, though! Scott and Owen are supposed to be a package deal, they’re supposed to stick by each other, Owen’s supposed to support Scott unconditionally. Isn’t that what friendship is? And yet, lately he hasn’t even been answering Scott’s texts.

Did Scott have time to respond to texts when he was being kicked out of his house?

It’s different, though, it can’t have been as bad as that-

That doesn’t mean whatever Owen’s been through wasn’t still hard for him.

Scott’s pain-

Pain is not a contest.

It was worse-

Both of their different experiences are allowed to coexist.

Owen’s been such a bad friend lately.

So has Scott.

…so has Scott.

Scott stands, his hands shaking.

“You done sulking? Are you ready to talk like an adult now, or-”

Before Owen finishes his sentence, Scott steps forward and wraps him in a strong, tight hug, the tiefling stiffening at first but then relaxing into Scott’s embrace, his arms reaching up to hug him back, his fists gripping the loose fabric of Scott’s dress.

“I’m sorry,” Scott whispers, the words scratching in his throat, something he hasn’t been saying enough recently. “I’ve not been the best friend lately, huh?”

“Neither have I, to be honest with you.” Owen laughs a silly little half-laugh, still clutching tightly against Scott’s back, and it feels so good, so right, to have his best friend pressed against him, the smell of his hair the same pinecone scent it’s always been, since the day they met.

“I thought you were convinced you were so ‘in the right’ here,” Scott teases, pulling away from Owen and poking him lightly in the chest, a clear sign of surrender that they both know well, unspoken but always mutually recognized- Scott can tell Owen sees it too, as he immediately relaxes.

“To be honest, I knew the only way I was going to get you to realize what was going on was if I acted like you were the only one who’d done anything wrong. Everyone just always has to go the extra mile for you, Scott S-smajor.” Owen’s trying to stay chipper, but Scott can hear the cracks in his voice, the raw emotion leaking through after months of holding it back.

And sure enough, just moments after finishing his words, Owen’s lower lip begins to quiver and he breaks down, sinking to the sidewalk and pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes, shaking his head with all the unspoken words, all the hardships he’s endured these past months.

And this time, his best friend is right there beside him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Scott asks, sitting as well, and resting a hand lightly atop Owen’s shaking shoulder.

The tiefling nods, rattling sobs escaping from his throat. “Argh, Scott, I d-didn't mean to melt down on you, I’m s-sorry.” The way he says it breaks Scott’s heart, like Owen somehow thinks he’s done something wrong by letting all his emotions free-flow for a bit.

“Don’t be. You’re fine, I could not care less. Trust me, I’ve been there. So what’s the scoop? Also, mate, when was the last time you cried?”

That gets a laugh out of Owen, albeit a half-hearted, shaky one. “I don’t actually remember?”

“Do you want to go somewhere else?” Scott asks, rubbing a hand over the nape of his neck. “We’re kind of blocking up the sidewalk.”

“Sure,” Owen mutters, pulling himself to his feet and rubbing aggressively at his eyes and breathing deeply to steady himself.

“So, what’s going on? Tell me everything, and I mean everything: I want the full rundown, all the details, the whole story.” This time, Scott means it.

And so Owen talks as they walk, ending up climbing the giant pine in his backyard and sitting amongst its branches like they have for as long as they’ve been friends. Owen explains how his parents have been arguing for a long time, really big, yelling arguments, and finally, after leaving the house in a huff and living in a motel for a week, Owen’s mom had finally called home- only to announce that she was ordering a divorce.

“That’s a shitty move,” Scott interjects, wrinkling his nose.

“Yeah, it kind of was,” Owen agrees, sighing and leaning against the trunk of the tree, his tears having stopped for now, though his eyes are still red-rimmed and his nose still sniffy.

He continues on to explain how after that, it’s been weeks of alternating close contact or no contact with his mom, and his sisters, all nine of them, are absolutely emotionally lost. His other mother is struggling to bring home enough money to feed them all, and his mom is just draining all the money from the family bank account.

“It’s been really hard on all of us,” Owen mutters, wiping at his eyes aggressively. “Like, I love Mom and all, but she’s being a real bitch right now- she could have tried to stick it out with Mother, if only for me and my sisters. And that’s not something I say lightly.”

“Yeah, you really don’t like to swear,” Scott comments, stretching and cracking his neck.

“Yeah, no,” Owen laughs lightly, a cautious sound as if he’s afraid to show his genuine emotions, and Scott feels his teeth clench in sadness.

Owen goes on, finishing with the fact that his sisters are going to have to live with their grandparents for a while, and as of now, Owen doesn’t really have much of anywhere to go. His dad’s tried to explain that sending him to boarding school might be the best bet, but Owen’s having none of it.

“I didn’t want to leave you,” he admits, looking down and coughing gently, his feet kicking in wide arcs that stir up the twenty feet of empty air below them on the branches.

“So you can’t stay with your dad right now? Like, there’s not enough money?” Scott asks to clarify, leaning back against the tree, eyebrows furrowed, concerned, in Owen’s direction.

Owen shakes his head, lips drawn tight and eyes looking anywhere but Scott’s. “There’s really nothing to be done for it. I pretend I have a say in the situation, but deep down, I know that there’s really not another possibility at this point.”

“You could come live with me and Jimmy,” Scott spits out before he can catch himself, eyes going wide as he realizes what he’s said. “I mean, you don’t have too, obviously, but I’m sure John and Laura would have you, they took me in, and I know you and Jimmy don’t really get along and you blame him for a lot of things, but maybe give it a chance? Genuinely, Owen, I really, really don’t want you to leave.”

“I don’t want to leave either,” the tiefling mumbles, a thickness to his voice that Scott rarely gets the privilege to hear. “But I’ve genuinely been such a jerk to Jimmy, Scott, like, he did nothing wrong. And I’m- I would love to live with you, and I mean this truly, but I don’t think Jimmy would have me. And if it’s you, him, and Beks now, I don’t know if there’s enough money or space for me.”

“Well, let’s just go check then,” Scott says, a smile growing across his face as he begins to descend from the tree.

“Wha- Scott, we can’t just go up to his house! And aren’t you and him all awkward and stuff? Like, after the whole kissing thing that you wouldn’t shut up about all those months ago?” Owen asks, scrambling to follow.

“No, uh, actually turns out he does like me. But that’s not important- plus, you forget, it’s also my house.” Scott drops down, his feet landing firmly on the hard-packed soil as Owen lands a little less nimbly besides him, taking a few stuttering steps forward before regaining his composure and grabbing Scott’s shoulders, staring him in the eyes.

“What. You’re dating. You and that little scrunkly bird man. Scott, you have a boyfriend?!” Owen yells the last sentence so loud that Scott flinches in an involuntary response, certain that all the neighbors are now listening in.

“Shut up,” Scott mutters, stepping out of Owen’s backyard and onto the sidewalk, turning back the way he’d come, back towards home.

“No. No I will not, when did this happen?” And there it goes again, a perfectly normal conversation turned to Scott’s business. He curses himself inwardly.

“Last night. Can we talk about something else instead? Because you just went off on a huge tangent about me talking about myself too much, so, you know, hypocritical much?”

“Scott, I didn’t mean you can never talk about yourself ever. Plus, we’ve just gone over my problems for like an hour, so I think you’re pretty much clear to rant to me about your boyfriend and how that all happened on the walk over to Jimmy’s… which I’m not quite sure about because we’re really not friends at all, why would he have me even if his parents are able to take me in…” Owen mutters the last sentence under his breath, still very obviously uncomfortable with the whole situation.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Scott soothes. Though, he’s not sure in the slightest, to be honest, but Owen is his best friend and if he needs help, Scott wants to be the one to offer it.

But going back to the tiefling’s earlier comment on the way to his house, Scott tells Owen everything. Every little last detail, every grievance and the high points and the lows. The only thing he leaves out is the weird memory-sharing thing, because he and Jimmy haven’t even really talked about that yet, and they probably should before anything else.

He also doesn’t tell Owen that he’s apparently the reason Jimmy hasn’t-

The reason Jimmy’s not-

He shivers involuntarily, because even imagining Jimmy dead is just- it’s too much, a world where he doesn’t have Jimmy isn’t even something he’d like to theorize about right now. But it’s also none of Owen’s business, it was something told to Scott in confidence, and he’s definitely going to have to bring it up with Jimmy later because he wants to do everything and anything in his power to prevent something like that from happening.

He doesn’t know how he can live with himself if Jimmy confesses to Scott about his suicidal (Scott can’t even-) and Scott does nothing about it.

And then before he knows it, here they are, standing in front of Jimmy’s house. Owen shoots him one last worried glance, and Scott shakes his head, smiling gently. He grabs the tiefling’s wrist, pulling him up the stairs and through the door, until there they are, standing on the foyer.

“Jimmy!” Scott calls, cupping his hand around his mouth.

“I’m in the kitchen,” the avian yells back, and Scott nods encouragingly towards Owen, beckoning for him to follow as he heads into the kitchen. Owen does, albeit quite hesitantly.

“So. Uh. I brought a friend over,” Scott says, entering the kitchen and leaning up against the counters as he always does, Owen’s head peeking nervously around the corner.

“Oh!” Jimmy sounds quite surprised, and honestly, why shouldn’t he be? “Hey, Owen, how’s it going?”

“Um, not- not the best, honestly,” Owen mutters, rubbing his hand on the back of his head. “Welp! Thanks, Scott, for bringing me here, but I really should get going-”

As Owen turns to leave, Scott shoots out a hand to grab his shoulder, shaking his head admonishingly. Jimmy seems completely out of his depth, just standing there in an apron, absolutely covered in flour- Scott snickers silently at the bright smudge of white across Jimmy’s cheek, the powder dusting everywhere from the tips of his hair to the softest cadmium feathers of his wings.

“Owen,” Scott starts, glaring pointedly at the tiefling now stood awkwardly beside him, “has something to say.”

Glancing to his right, Owen bites his lip, breathing in deeply before he speaks. “So. Hi, Jimmy- um. Shoot, I’m no good at this- give me a second?” he laughs clumsily, fumbling for words that aren’t there. Scott rests a gentle hand on his shoulder, silent support that seems to help, as Owen closes his eyes for a couple seconds, before opening them as well as his mouth and beginning to speak.

“Look, before I do anything, I just want to say I’m sorry.” His voice is strong, so much stronger than it was just a couple seconds ago, and Scott is honestly kind of shocked at the sudden switch. “I’ve been a jerk to you since the day we met. You did nothing to provoke my dislike and you didn’t deserve it. You’re a genuinely lovely person, and if I’m honest, I was jealous of you.

“I saw how close you and Scott were getting, how much he very obviously liked you- he still does. And I’m his best friend, I was used to getting the majority of his attention. And if I’m honest, I was worried that he’d hurt you. Scott hasn’t always had it easy, in fact, it’s been much harder than him for most. I was there to witness a lot of that and I won’t speak for him, but I’ll just say that there have been days where even I couldn’t cheer him up.” Jimmy’s listening intently, Scott can tell, his ear feathers are pricked up and his wings relaxed as he leans forward on his hands to hear, nodding along to all the important parts.

“And you did. On the days where I failed, you made him happy. And I was angry and confused and jealous and just… I was worried, I guess, for my best friend. You were such a beacon to him, we could all see it, me and Shelby and even Joel, who’s pretty much the least emotionally intelligent person on the planet. I think we all knew if you hurt Scott, it would be such a genuine blow to him. And I didn’t want that to happen. But I was also really annoyed that I couldn’t be the beacon that you were, I was angry that he was moving away from me.”

Scott’s eyebrows crease, because everything Owen is saying is completely and utterly true. In other circumstances, he would be furious at being spoken about like this right in front of him, but what Owen’s saying is such a complete and utter reading of him that he can’t muster up the anger.

“All he would talk about was you. And I was fed up. So I hated you and I was a huge jerk, and you didn’t deserve any of that. So, I’m sorry. I just need to get that out of the way before Scott reveals his big fancy plan or whatever he wants to call it. Just to clarify, what he’s about to say was completely his idea, I had no say in any of this, he just dumped it on me- and also sorry Scott for talking about you like you’re not there when you’re right next to me. And also possibly spilling all your secrets to Jim.” Owen bumps Scott’s shoulder with his own, and the gorgon shakes his head, rolling his eyes affectionately.

“But, yeah, I’m sorry,” Owen mutters, his tone back to serious, tail flicking gently behind him. “I sucked and I was really rude to you. I hope you can accept my apology.”

Jimmy presses his hand to his face. “You were really rude to me.”

Owen cringes, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together forcefully.

“And…” Jimmy trails off, sighing deeply and staring off into space. Owen and Scott share a quick glance, and Scott has to admit, he has no idea what Jimmy’s about to say.

“And because I’m a nice guy, and you’re Scott’s best friend, I’ll give you a second chance. What do you say? Friends?” The avian extends his hand and Scott can barely believe it, this is what he’s wanted for so long, they’re finally getting along.

“Friends,” Owen agrees, stepping forward to bridge the gap, firmly shaking Jimmy’s hand before the avian pulls him into a seemingly unexpected hug, as Owen’s eyes go wide before he somewhat awkwardly hugs back.

“So… what now?” Owen whispers, now back standing by Scott’s side.

“Now I get to talk,” Scott answers, moving forward and leaning against his arms pressed against the island.

“Jimmy, would John and Laura be open to taking another person in? Not for long, just for a little bit. We could set up a tent in the backyard or something, Owen just needs a place to stay for a while. There’s some shit going on with his parents and the alternative is him being sent to boarding school. And I know it’s a lot to ask and it was completely my idea, Owen had nothing to do with this scheme of mine at all, he was actually very against it.”

“And for good reason,” Owen interjects, “It’s way too early to ask you anything like that.”

“Anything like what?”

John’s voice intersects into the conversation as he enters the kitchen, Beks and Laura in his trail, heavy-looking grocery bags hanging from all their arms. John plops down his bags on the counter, crossing his arms and looking over at Owen. “Well, who’s this, then?”

“That’s Owen,” Scott reassures, resting a hand on the tiefling’s shoulder. “He’s my best friend- you know about him, he’s friends with Shelby and Joel and all of us.”

“So what do I owe the pleasure, Owen?” Laura’s reedy voice is much calmer than John’s, and Owen’s shoulders visibly relax.

“Oh, um, I was just-”

“I want him to live here,” Scott interrupts, eyes shining with hope. “Just for a short amount of time, but otherwise he leaves for boarding school, and I don’t want that, he’s my best friend.”

Laura sighs and rubs her hands against her temples, leaning back against the wall and exchanging a meaningful glance with John. “Scott, honey, we’re already taking care of three of you, I just- we’re stretched thin enough already, you know? And where would he stay, we have no room?”

“He could stay in the backyard, in a tent, and we could all get jobs to pitch in around the house!” Scott’s not going to let this go, he can’t let Owen leave, not after they’ve just fixed things, he can’t-

“To be honest with you, and this is going to sound really selfish,” Beks starts, “I really don’t need to share my house with another weird boy I don’t even know.” Jimmy flinches slightly, almost imperceptibly, at her statement.

“That’s kind of uncalled for, Beks,” Jimmy mutters before Scott can say anything, his wings drawn protectively around him. “That’s- I dunno, that feels kind of like a terrible thing for you to say?”

“Yes, Beky, that’s out of line. We’re going to have to talk about that later,” John cuts in, his beefy dad arms folded across his chest. “But regardless, Scott, I’m so sorry-”

“No.” Scott’s voice is tiny, shaking and trembling like the leaves he’s seen today, blowing away in the wind, with no power of their own.

“-but Owen cannot stay.”

“No!” Scott runs after John as he makes his way upstairs, brushing the unwanted tears aggressively out of his eyes. “John, you don’t understand, if he doesn’t stay here he has to leave, and he can’t leave, he’s my best friend, he’s one of the only people who understands me and we just fixed things between us, please, you let me stay, why not Owen?”

John sighs, rubbing his temples. “Scott, you need to understand. If we take Owen in, and as much as I wish we could, we’ll have four teenagers to take care of. Do you know how much even one of you hooligans eat? Even with Bek, we were struggling. Then she found Jimmy, alone on the street, and it wasn’t like we could turn him down.”

Scott’s given up trying to stop the tears because he is sobbing now, he doesn’t want to lose his friend he can’t they don’t understand no one understands Owen is the only reason why he hasn’t cut himself off completely Owen is the person he cares about the most on the entire planet and they don’t get it, if he doesn’t stay here in this house with Scott he leaves. Owen has to leave.

“Then you showed up. We were hesitant, I’m not going to lie, but Laura convinced me that we should take you in. Both you and Jimmy were in very vulnerable spots when you came into our lives, both of you would still be homeless if not for us. But in addition to paying for food for all of you, you forget that we also have to pay for your school tuition. And we just can’t do that for another kid. I’m sorry, Scott.” This time when John ascends the stairs, his bedroom door slamming shut behind him, Scott doesn’t follow.

Instead, he runs out the door, his head throbbing and wishes pounding this way and that inside his mind. He doesn’t listen when Owen calls him back, pretends to not hear as Jimmy yells after him, asking where he’s going. He doesn’t know, he doesn’t care.

Scott just runs.

And he’s not surprised when he looks up, all out of breath, and finds himself right back in front of the Major family mansion. Right back to where it all fucking began.

Somehow, Scott’s not surprised at all as he closes his eyes, breathing deeply, and begins to walk down the cobbled path, through the all-too-perfect garden, glaring straight at the white marble building looming before him the whole time.

And not a bone in his body holds him back as he climbs the wide colonnade steps to his old home, rapping once, twice, three times on the “M”-emblazoned door, his knuckles almost vibrating from contact with the stone.

Scott’s not surprised that he came back here.

He is, however, very surprised that his mother, his siren, cult-leader mother, is the one who swings it open.

And it comes as even more of a shock when she wraps him in a strong, warm hug and ushers him inside.

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m0ther-of-p3arl · 1 year

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bad news on tv, black ink revives me

(robert aeor high au p2)

masterpost

hi and welcome to my mcyt high school au! if you haven't read part one, i highly suggest starting with that.

…Huh. That’s interesting. So there is a new student, and chances are, based on the chair seated ominously by his side, Scott has a class or two with him. He’s, annoyingly enough, slightly interested about this so-called “Timmy,” wonders what he looks like-

or Scott finds out there's a new kid at school, and can't stop thinking about who they might be.

TW: internalized homophobia, self hatred, anxiety, bullying

Robert Aeor High is an exceptional school, very upper-class, with most of the students living most of their lives in mansions, surrounded by everything they could ever need. Scott supposes he’s obliged to count himself in this number, though his friends, all mostly lower-class typical income people, say he’s nothing like them. But he has grown up in a mansion, and even his cold, sterile home is still a mansion.

Scott is by no means popular, in fact, quite the contrary. He tries as hard as he can to stay to the side of all the drama, to stay safe within his own little friend group, to stay hidden, to stay safe. Sometimes it’s hard to blend in, though, when someone’s singling you, specifically, out. Especially when that person is Xornoth.

Xornoth is that kid at school, the one everybody’s afraid of, the popular one, the one who has several henchmen that bend over to do zir bidding, the one who everyone seems to have a secret crush on. Ze’s a tiefling, like Owen, but where Owen is a prismatic tiefling, able to be born any color of the rainbow, from dusky blue to the pumpkin orange of Owen’s skin, Xornoth is a dark tiefling. Zir skin is a dark, almost glowing, purple, and zir massive, twisting goat horns at least three times bigger than the non threatening orange spikes that peek out from Owen’s hair.

Xornoth is one of the main reasons Scott’s begun to dread going to school almost as much as going home, especially now that their bullying’s extending to the level of legitimate harassment.

Xornoth seems to have a perverse obsession with touching Scott’s snakes.

A gorgon’s snakes are like an avian’s wings, or a tiefling’s horns, or a celestial’s tail: you simply don’t touch them. Xornoth’s way around this basic human decency, however, is that since Scott’s a hybrid, those rules just don’t apply to him. It’s never made much sense to Scott, as though he’s defective, he’s still a gorgon, still a person.

He has feelings, and that’s the one thing Xornoth seems to disregard the most.

“Scotty, come on, I just want to see how they feel,” ze purrs. Zir two henchmen, Joey and a boy who Scott only knows as “Sausage,” snicker under their breath, smirks ghosting across their faces.

“No, you can’t-” Scott begins, only to feel unwanted hands brushing roughly up against his snakes, the fingers calloused and groping. Scott shrinks away, disgusted. “What is wrong with you?! How would you like it if I touched your horns?”

“God, Major, what the hell? Why do they feel like ice?” Xornoth asks, completely disregarding Scott��s previous statement, reaching zir curious hand out towards his head again.

“One, my name is not Major. Two, you know why, you’ve known why since last year. Three, stop trying to touch my snakes. Now.” Scott’s slowly backing away, and he can feel himself beginning to shake. He hates unwanted touch, especially directed at his snakes, and he knows that if he doesn’t get away soon, he’ll have a full-on breakdown in the middle of the hallway. He’d never live it up then.

“Aww, he’s mad!” Xornoth snickers. “It’s just a question, Major. Be civil. Now, as much as I’d love to stay here and hang out with you all day-” Joey giggles under his breath, pushing his hand up to his mouth- “I’m afraid me and the boys have things to do. Arrivederci, Scotty Boy!” Xornoth waves cheekily, zir eyes cruel and calculating, knowing ze’s hit him in exactly the right spot.

Scott watches as ze sashays down the hall, one arm wrapped loosely around Joey’s shoulder as ze talks animatedly to Sausage, rude laughter cascading from the boy after Xornoth says something seemingly very funny, presumably about him.

He hates Xornoth almost as much as he hates himself.

Walking into his homeroom, Scott immediately notices that there’s an extra desk in the back row, right next to where he sits, alone, the furthest away from everyone he can get. He’s always chosen to sit in the far back corner whenever he can, because the less attention Scott gets, from students and teachers, the better it is for him. So the fact that now, there seems to be someone who’s sitting next to him? It doesn’t bode well.

What if whoever’s desk this happens to be another Xornoth, bent on tormenting Scott and making his life hell?

But as the students trickle into homeroom, the extra desk isn’t claimed, and Scott lets out a mental sigh of relief. Maybe it’s just a mistake, just a simple misunderstanding. Maybe it’s for a new person in a different class, someone who doesn’t share Scott’s homeroom, but instead has this class for math or something. That sounds plausible, and if Scott’s honest with himself, he’s slightly disappointed. There’s always a possibility that any given new person will be attractive, and Scott is in dire need of a boyfriend.

The thought slips out before he can stop himself, and immediately, he starts to spiral.

No. No, no, no, nonononono- he’s not supposed to think that, that isn’t allowed- Scott’s disgusting for even letting that thought breach his mind, he’s not gay, he can’t be gay, but he knows he is and that’s the worst part- Scott can feel the breakdown from before pressing even harder in the back of his skull, because from his dream father, his real life father, Xornoth being absolutely horrendous, and now a reminder of one of the many ways he’s utterly repulsive inside and out, it’s just too much for him to take.

Scott needs to talk to Shelby, the main therapist of their group, because though she doesn’t know that he’s gay (disgusting) she knows about the other things, like his father and Xornoth. Scott’s not ready to tell anyone other than Owen that he’s gay (revolting) yet, if ever. He’ll try as hard as he can to beat it out.

He whips out his phone and pulls up the group chat, making sure to prop up his textbook to hide the fact that he’s texting, as Mr Jau is very particular about that kind of thing. It doesn’t seem like anyone’s on right now, however, which is…not optimal for Scott.

And if he can’t talk to Shelby, he needs to find a distraction. But then he remembers he’ll see Shubble next period anyway, and even if he can’t find something else to focus on, he should be able to make it the ten minutes before homeroom’s over and the real school day begins.

He’s just scrolling through his notifs now, finding a few from his mutuals, rolling his eyes affectionately at the crazed reposts of fanart. Then he notices that in the absence of him and Owen while they were walking to school, Joel and Shelby (the bus riders of the group), have been talking about something. Scott knows it’s wrong to snoop, but like, they put whatever they were talking about on the group chat, so they must have meant him to see it, right?

And now that Scott knows there’s something to know, he absolutely has to do a bit of “detective work.”

He scrolls to his last sent message, a hasty gn love yall xx that he had typed out before his father had come into his room for his nightly inspection of Scott last night, and reads from there. Owen, Joel, and Shelby hadn’t stayed long after he’d gone, trickling away at about eleven, which leaves him with a slight pang of relief that he hasn’t missed anything. The conversation had resumed this morning, while he and Owen were walking to school.

He really doesn’t have much to do, and he’s secretly very curious what they were talking about, so he begins to scroll through the texts.

thesmallbeans: hey shelby you there

shubbleshrubble: heyo joel :)

thesmallbeans: did you see, there’s a new kid?

shubbleshrubble: wdym, i dont go on your bus ofc not you idiot

thesmallbeans: shut up your short you cant talk but yeah, there’s like a new guy, hes got wings so i think hes an avian

thesmallbeans: he’s sitting a few seats in front of me he got on the stop after mine

shubbleshrubble: huh we havent had a new student in a while much less an avian arent they rare? I think grians the only avian at school right?

thesmallbeans: FOR GOODNESS SAKES shubble YES theyre rare do you pay NO attention during species studies?!?!

shubbleshrubble: ummmmmm

shubbleshrubble: anywayyyy

thesmallbeans: also no hes not the only one you’ve forgotten about beks

shubbleshrubble: oh right beky but shes a year lower so why would i remember her

thesmallbeans: i remembered her and i have like the worst memory arent gnomes suppotsed to be all wise and remembering things?????

shubbleshrubble: shut up joel

shubbleshrubble: im super smart you dont know anything about me

shubbleshrubble: im a mystery ;)

thesmallbeans: uh huh. sure

shubbleshrubble: oh shush

shubbleshrubble: anyway what does this new kid look like??

thesmallbeans: hes blonde and his wings are like bright yellow, hes pretty tall for an avian, blue eyes and hes wearing the girls uniform

thesmallbeans: like the one with the skirt i mean

shubbleshrubble: huh

shubbleshrubble: do you konw his name

thesmallbeans: i think its timmy or something like that

thesmallbeans: oop bus pulling up gtg cya @ school

STOP IT, SCOTT. STOP. It’s the second time this morning and two more times than he can handle. He tries to convince himself the reason he’s so intrigued by this turn of events is because the new kid is a rarer species, because he’s supposedly tall for an avian, because he seems like an interesting person, choosing to wear the skirt uniform and all that. There are times when Scott wishes that he could wear it himself, but of course, his father would never condone such an unmanly outfit.

He slides his phone back into his pocket, closing the textbook and pushing it back into his desk as someone walks into the room, and Scott cranes his head forwards, because is it him, is it the new boy?

Scott flumps back into his seat, realizing it’s only Joel. He suppresses a sigh; he should have known not to get his hopes up, but an avian? They’re the least-common sentient species, having been hunted to extinction for their wings by other species, most noticeably the seafolk.

Their small stature and group nesting habits make them a predictable and easy to target people, and hundreds of avians are murdered each day, from the owls to the penguins to the canaries. It would be so interesting to meet a new avian, someone who seems to be neither an owl, like Beks, the one in the year below, or Grian, who’s a parrot.

Scott tries to convince himself this is the reason he’s interested.

But he realizes he’s been unfair, as Joel is never “only” Joel. He’s a celestial, and a sky celestial at that, so he’s almost inherently gorgeous, as well as extremely fucking tall. His light blue skin ripples with white cloud-like spots, his hair dark brown shot with a green streak that’s always reminded Scott of lighting, tied back into a short ponytail. A green laurel tattoo snakes down Joel’s right arm, his smooth, jewel-covered tail snaking along the floor behind him.

He stands at almost eleven feet, and he hasn’t stopped growing yet. Scott’s been friends with Joel for the longest time out of any of his closest companions, their friendship dating back to fourth grade, when Scott had nicked a few of Joel’s pencils during class. He’d thought he’d gotten off scot free (heh heh), but he’d been met at his locker by a glowering Joel, arms crossed and eyebrows raised.

Joel had been eight feet tall even then, and had picked up Scott by the scruff of his neck and put him on top of the lockers “to teach him a lesson,” in the celestial’s own words. But he had come back not five minutes later and brought Scott down, offering a profuse apology and saying he was working on “not being a menace.” They’ve been friends ever since.

Joel saunters across the room, taking his spot in the corner behind Scott, as he’s too tall for any desk this school has to offer. “Hey, Scott,” he grins in that cocky Joel way of his, “What’s up?”

“Eh, not much, you?” Scott asks, smiling back at him.

“Oh, you know, just…stuff.” He waves his hands vaguely, and Scott has to duck to avoid being backhanded by the unchecked limbs. “Hey, by the way, have you seen Lizzie today?” Joel’s eyes begin to go misty thinking about his not-so-secret crush. Scott’s pretty sure she’s completely oblivious of Joel’s affections, and he doesn’t know how that’s possible, but seafolk are notably fuzzy-minded when kept away from the ocean for an extended amount of time, so that probably explains why.

But Joel’s crush is still so glaringly obvious that even with how much Lizzie’s brain must be muffled, Scott can’t imagine how she hasn’t noticed so far.

“No, I haven’t, why?” Scott decides it’s best to humor Joel, to let him go on and on about Lizzie and how her hair cascades off her head and how pink it is and how much she looks like an axolotl with those frills that surround her neck and how her skin is so blue but not sky blue like Joel’s, blue like the ocean deep and dark, blue like the ocean Lizzie calls home. All Scott has to do is offer a few “mhm”s and nods, and Joel will be happy. Scott’s learned long ago that this is the best way to deal with Joel, because when he has something to talk about, ye gods, he will talk.

“By the way, Joel,” Scott says, interrupting a detailed and decidedly very sappy description of how Lizzie’s eyes glitter in the sunlight, “Can you tell me more about that new kid who goes on your bus? I saw your texts.”

Joel looks slightly miffed that he’s been cut off, but diverts his attention to Scott nonetheless. That’s a first. “Uh, sure, what do you want to know?”

“For starters, you said he was an avian? What kind?” Scott leans forward, chin resting on his hands.

“Um, something with bright yellow wings? Like, almost solid yellow, no patterns.” Joel’s disinterested, staring off into the distance, almost certainly mooning over Lizzie, though silently this time (thank god).

“Joel,” Scott chastises admonishingly. “Now who doesn’t pay attention in species studies? The only avian types with solid yellow wings are canaries and some parrots- did the new kid have more upwards pointing or downwards pointing ear feathers?”

“Downwards pointing, I think,” Joel answers, “They were all fluffed out, though. His wing feathers too.”

“Okay, so he’s a canary,” Scott realizes, ripples running down his spine. “And the fluffed feathers means he was nervous. And understandably, starting a new school and all that? That’s a lot to take in at once. You said his name was Timmy?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Joel’s squinting, as if trying to find the answer off in the distance somewhere. “But I can’t be sure, he said his name kinda quietly when the bus driver asked what it was. Hey, why are you so interested in this new kid anyway?”

“Oh, no real reason,” Scott hastily reassures. “Avians are just so rare, though, and the canary bit is interesting too- they’re the least common avian type of all, and isn’t there a proverb about canaries being the harbingers of death?”

“Maybe,” Joel mutters, clearly not really engaging with the conversation. “I don’t really know- can I go back to talking about Lizzie now?”

Scott rolls his eyes and half-holds in an exasperated sigh. “Sure, Joel. Go straight ahead.” Scott’s still only half-listening, the rest of his mind wondering about the new kid; an avian, and a canary? That’s an interesting combination, Scott thinks, especially since, as he’s already stated, canaries in particular are one of the rarest avian types.

The more he thinks about it, the more interested he is in this new student, and before he knows it, the bell has rung and he’s off to math. Waving goodbye to Joel, who stays in homeroom for his next class, Scott weaves his way through the hallways crowded to the brim with students of all species. Friends are snickering and chatting animatedly in little groups of three about the newest gossip or newest episode of their favorite series or loudly bragging about how gay they are.

Scott smirks dryly at that last one, his secret still held close to his chest. He’s so caught up in his own mind that he doesn’t notice where he’s going, and someone collides directly into his chest, causing him to stagger back a couple steps.

Now, Scott is by no means tall, landing squarely at around five and a half feet, but whoever’s collided with him is a significant bit shorter, by at least four inches, given the feel of it. This weirdly short person mutters a stammered apology, ducking behind Scott before he can get a good look at them, and by the time he’s craned his head back to try to catch a glimpse of his mysterious offender, they’re gone.

Scott doesn’t even notice the feather laying right at his feet as he rolls his eyes and enters his science class, the bright yellow plume flying up, up, up to the ceiling under the scuff of his feet, landing on the rafters far above the crowded mass below.

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m0ther-of-p3arl · 6 months

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final chapter of rob aeor is up on ao3.

i hope you all enjoy.

#AUTHOR FELIX STRIKES AGAIN #robert aeor high au #flower husbands #jimmy solidaritygaming #scott smajor #ethoslab #bdoubleo100 #the life series #third life #traffic

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m0ther-of-p3arl · 1 year

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i follow just to find you

(robert aeor high au p6)

masterpost

It’s hard to describe just how excited Jim is, the way he’s spinning in circles over and over and over again till he falls down, his dress flooding out around him like a halo. The way his eyes are brighter than Scott’s ever seen them. He must have genuine emotional attachment to the idea of seeing this movie; with the level of excitement he’s exhibiting, Scott can’t really think of another reason for it.

or, Scott, Jimmy, and Joel go to see spirited away (amazing movie btw) also Xornoth's return :00

(4699 words)

TW: self-hate, internalized homophobia, bullying

They’re all quiet on the drive to the movies, watching the scenery flash by out the windows of Joel’s car. Scott can’t help but feel that he’s broken something between him and Jimmy, and he can’t quite tell what, but something’s changed and he’s not sure if it’s for the better.

He can almost feel the awkwardness in the air, so thick he thinks he could freeze it with just a glance. He’s certain that Jimmy feels it too, scrunched up with his hands clasped tightly in his lap, posture straight and dress rumpled. But Joel… Scott supposes that he has to see that something’s wrong, how could he not, but all he’s doing up in the front is singing along quietly to the radio.

It’s been almost five minutes of sitting in silence and Scott cannot have the day go like this, he’s been looking forward to it for so long, and he knows Jim has as well. He needs to say something. So of course, when he opens his mouth, trying to break the silence, he just says the most boneheaded thing imaginable given the situation.

“Um. I like your dress,” he tries, immediately realizing his mistake. Oh, god, why? He wants to slap himself hard across the face, his cheeks are burning again, if everything wasn’t ruined, it certainly has to be now, right?

“I noticed,” Jimmy mutters, scrunching up his dress even further. Of course he’d noticed, Scott was literally staring at him, honestly what a dumb thing to say- “Uh, I would say I like what you’re wearing, but it’s really…” Jimmy continues. They both look down at Scott’s meager outfit, and Scott snorts.

And then he snickers. And then Jimmy starts to giggle his little chirping laugh, and Scott’s laughing so hard and so is Jim and Joel’s so confused, asking, “What are you doing? What on earth are you laughing about?” Which of course, just makes them guffaw harder, until Jimmy’s fallen over with his head leaning on Scott’s shoulder, and he’s suddenly painfully aware of the fact that he hasn’t laughed this hard in a long, long time.

Joel shakes his head knowingly from the front seat, and Jimmy coughs, hastily lifting his head from Scott’s shoulder. “Sorry,” the avian mutters.

“It’s fine, I don’t mind,” Scott fumbles, “Um, anyway, what movie are we seeing?”

“Oh!” Jimmy’s whole face lights up, and the corners of Scott’s mouth quirk up at the sight. “It’s a movie I’ve wanted to see for a really long time, ever since I was a little kid. I already know the whole plot, but you know, I’ve never seen it, so…”

“Yeah, I know the feeling,” Joel chimes in from the front seat. “Once, I was at Pearl’s birthday party and Lizzie was there, and oh did she look beautiful. We went out to a movie, all of us, and I sat by her and almost held her hand-”

“What on earth does that have to do with Jim’s movie?” Scott asks.

“Um, well, you see, a movie was a part of both of these situations-”

“Shut up, Joel,” Jimmy groans, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, the movie’s called Spirited Away, maybe you’ve heard of it?”

A flash of recognition goes off in Scott’s brain. “Yeah, I think I have- is it that one about the spirit bathhouse?”

“Yes!” Jimmy’s excited now, his eyes even wider than usual, his smile charming and genuine. “That’s it! How do you know it?”

“I used to go to the movies a lot, when I was younger,” Scott explains, “But then I… just kinda stopped, I guess.” He shrugs, and Jimmy nods in understanding. This isn’t the whole story, of course, it never is- the truth is that Father used to take Scott to the movies all the time just silly little thirty-minute flicks. It had been one of the only times of his childhood that he still holds dear, but now he’s seventeen and it’s slipped away, right out of his fingers. “Maybe I should be asking… how do you know Spirited Away?”

“Um, you know, I just saw a… a pamphlet.” Jimmy picks at his feathers, something of an anxious habit that Scott’s recognized from this past month. “Yeah, a pamphlet, back where I used to live. Patty would bring them to me sometimes, as, like, little gifts, I guess. And I was hooked when I saw the one for Spirited Away.”

“...I have questions,” Scott’s stuck between a smile and a frown, a weird half-state that he’s sure must make him look ridiculous. “Who’s Patty? And since when do movies have pamphlets?”

Jimmy’s mouth draws itself into a straight line, and Scott knows immediately that he’s messed up. “Patty was… my guardian, I guess. But we, uh, kinda split ways. I haven’t seen her in about a year. And your question about pamphlets is just silly. Of course movies have pamphlets. Where are you even from?”

Oh.

Suddenly, a lot of things Jimmy’s said in the last month make sense to Scott. The way he mentions that he hasn’t been flying long, the amount he doesn’t talk about his home life. Because Beks’ parents aren’t his parents. Scott supposes he should’ve known that in the first place, because he’s not really sure how genetics work, but he doesn’t think two owl avians could have a canary.

Scott’s not going to assume he’s suddenly correct about all of Jimmy’s past, but the one thing he is certain about is that Jimmy ran away from home at some point- probably about a year ago, from what he’s just said. It makes a lot of sense, especially with what Bek had said about him either being dead or in a homeless shelter. God… Scott’s never even considered running away from home. Would that be a good option?

“I’ve been in similar situations,” Scott whispers, biting his lip. Jim’s eyes widen, he’s surprised that Scott’s figured something out.

“W-whatever could you mean?” He’s really, really bad at playing dumb, and Scott doesn’t want to say it’s cute, but it is. Jimmy tucks his hair behind his ear nervously, picking at his wing feathers even more.

“Come on, I’m not stupid, I can figure out a bit of what’s going on,” Scott says, “And do you remember the first day we met, how you said that if I ever needed to talk, I could talk to you? Well, it goes both ways. I care about you and I want you to be safe, so if anything ever happens, or Patty (I don’t know who she is but she sounds like she hurt you) tries to contact you, please, please let me know.”

Jimmy stares at the floor, not moving. “Yeah, okay. And for the record, she didn’t hurt me. Not really.” Shit, has he done something wrong? He’s definitely done something wrong; he’s made a mistake, committed a critical error- though he’s not quite sure what.

“Sorry,” he mutters, looking the other direction. Well, that’s it, he’s officially ruined everything, and he doesn’t even know how but between the staring and the way his stomach has been flipping around the avian and prying into his personal business, Scott feels like he can be pretty certain that this friendship is over.

“No, wait, don’t be sorry!” Jimmy takes hold of his shoulder, spinning Scott around to face him, brown and cyan eyes staring into each other. “It’s fine. Thank you for offering that, I’m just not used to people… being kind to me, I guess. But you’re fine, I’m fine, we’re fine. In fact, I’m only slightly disappointed that you haven’t said this earlier on.” He lets out a little awkward laugh, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

“Genuinely?” Scott wants to be certain that he’s not intruding, certain that he’s not messing something up like he always does, whether he realizes it or not.

“Yes, Scott, my god!” Jimmy laughs, before his voice takes a more serious turn. “Seriously, you’re one of my favorite people. I probably would’ve had a much worse time at school so far if not for you, especially with what’s been going on with Xornoth.”

“Thanks.” Scott smiles, but it’s not real because something’s still wrong between them, something’s broken and he’s still not sure how to fix it.

“Are you all done with your sappy conversations?” Joel calls from the front seat, “Because we’re here! You ready to go watch a movie, you smelly boys?” Jimmy and Scott laugh in unison, Scott’s quiet cackle a direct contrast to Jim’s melodious chirping.

They all pile out of the car, waiting a moment so Jimmy can straighten his dress, and head into the movie theater, the avian running ahead and chattering eagerly with wide eyes. Scott looks around, realizing how much this theater looks like the one he used to visit with his father- it has the same arches above the entrance, the same carpet, the same cheesy old movie posters ring the walls.

In fact, if Scott isn’t certain that the one he used to go to is halfway across town, he would’ve sworn they were one and the same. But there’s no way, it’s just deja vu, dumb and fake and he needs to stop this, because he’s here to have a good time with two of his best friends and he’s already ruining everything-

“Scott, you coming?” Joel and Jimmy are standing in the doorway, the height difference mammoth in appearance. Their silhouettes intertwine on the floor, and Scott wants nothing more than to join them.

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I’m here.” He takes a deep breath and steps forward, his feet landing in divits in the pavement, staring straight ahead. He is here, now, and he’s not going to let old ghosts ruin one of the only times he can be truly happy anymore.

“I can’t tell you how excited I am to finally see this movie.” Jimmy keeps chattering on and on about Spirited Away, this and that about how it’s the greatest movie of all time, blah blah blah. It’s quite endearing, actually- Scott can’t help but grin a little, seeing how happy the avian is.

“Jimmy-you’re-spoiling-everything!” Joel shrieks after Jimmy goes on an especially long tangent about parents turning into pigs or something of the sort, hands clasped over his ears. “La la lalallala, I can’t hear you, I can’t heaaar youuuu…” Scott shakes his head affectionately, putting a hand on Joel’s elbow because he can’t reach his shoulder.

“Calm down, bestie,” he says, slapping Joel lightly in the arm. “We gotta go get popcorn like, now. Otherwise we’re going to miss the beginning and Jim’ll freak.”

“NO WE’RE NOT,” Jimmy calls from where he’s standing in line twenty feet in front of them. “NO WE’RE NOTTTT! We aren’t going to miss a single bit, and if we do, it’s your fault, Scott Smajor.”

“How would it be my fault?” Scott smirks. “If anyone, it would be Joel’s fault.” He pulls Joel, protesting incoherently, forward by the arm, almost bowling down a family of movie-goers, and they join Jimmy in line.

Joel pays for the popcorn and sodas, Jimmy practically vibrating with impatience. “You ready to go?” Scott asks the avian, laughing slightly at his outraged expression.

“I’ve been ready for years,” Jimmy says haughtily, puffing ahead of them, his dress flying behind him like a following of clouds. Scott and Joel make their way forward at a leisurely pace, exchanging grins every couple feet when Jimmy, twenty feet in front of them, looks back and spreads his arms wildly, gesturing for them to hurry up.

They finally make their way into the theater and find their seats, cushy red recliners made for different species. Joel heads way back to the section for larger people, saluting the two of them with the arm that isn’t holding his five giant bowls of popcorn.

Scott and Jimmy make their ways nearer to the front, but still slightly in the middle; the section for medium-heighted people. They’ve gotten seats in the very center of the row, right next to each other, and Scott slips in quietly, so as to not disturb the families seated on either side.

Jimmy has a bit of a hassle getting into his seat, however, as his wings are simply not cooperating, the excitement causing them to fluff up when what he really needs is for them to tuck them into his back.

“...Do you need help?” Scott asks after being forced to watch this torture for a couple minutes.

Jimmy lets out a disappointed sound somewhere between a groan and a sigh. “Yes, please.” Scott lifts himself up out of his recliner, making sure his shades are still pulled securely over his eyes.

“What… should I do?” Scott asks, his hands hovering awkwardly in the air, not sure where to start.

“Best way to calm me down is- wait, remember the very first day we met, when I was dissociating?” Scott nods, waiting for the canary to continue, “And Mx Leiverman kind of rubbed the spot between my wings? Do you remember where that is?”

“Yeah…”

“Kind of massage me there. It’ll get me calmed down and then we can watch the movie.” At the last few words, Jimmy’s wings floof up even further.

Scott’s hands are shaking slightly now, the gravity of what he’s about to do beginning to weigh down on him. “You want me to… rub your back?” he asks, just to clarify, just to make sure he hasn’t heard Jimmy wrong.

The avian’s cheeks go red. “It- it calms me down, okay? And yeah, because otherwise I won’t be able to see this and that would be horrific, just the worst of the worst. Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this?”

Actually, no, Scott doesn’t, but he nods anyway. “Y-yeah, okay,” he mutters, still not quite sure where to start. “Um, should I just… go for it, then?” Jimmy nods impatiently, wings poofier than ever. Scott tries to relax; this is fine, he’s just helping out his friend, this is a completely normal thing to happen and he’s not flustered at all.

He absolutely cannot feel his heart thumping out of his chest, and by no means is his stomach fluttering so wildly he can barely stand. Oh, and he’s especially not wondering how Jimmy’s feathers might feel under his fingers, soft and bright and-

Okay. Deep breath in, Scott, deep breath out. He needs to calm down and get the job done because otherwise his friend might not be able to fulfill this hope he’s been wishing for, and that would be a literal catastrophe, that would be horrific. And so he steels himself and moves his hands forwards until they’re touching the soft light green fabric of Jimmy’s dress, right between where his wings poke out.

As soon as Scott’s fingers connect, he can hear Jimmy gasp, just a tiny quiet breath of air that escapes from his lips- and just for a second, Scott’s inside Jimmy’s mind, twisting and turning, only glimpsing one tiny glimmer of a memory- a boy’s bright bluish eyes staring at him. And then it’s gone,

What. The hell. Was that.

He assumes it must be something from his siren heritage, and he brushes it off, just another thing that’s wrong with him. He runs a hand through his snakes and returns to the task at hand.

Scott’s never done this before, he’s not completely sure how, so he just goes with his instincts, working his fingers along Jimmy’s back, undoing the anxious knots of muscle, going from the middle to the seam where the avian’s wings connect with his body, hands brushing smooth, tiny feathers. And it seems to work, Jimmy’s wings relaxing bit by bit, until the avian lets out a sigh, stretching, and returns to his seat, seemingly contented.

Scott keeps standing, like an idiot, for a couple seconds before taking his seat as well, his whole body buzzing. God. What in the world was that? Why is he smiling as he pushes the familiar button, his chair reclining, the opening scene beginning to flicker across the screen? Why is he smiling when he knows he’s just done something his father would never approve of? Why is he smiling when he’s so disgusting he can’t even bear to look in a mirror, his colors and the people he loves and just… himself… so repulsive and defective that he’s nothing more than a disappointment to everyone he knows?

He wishes these were genuine questions. He truly wishes he didn’t have an answer to why his lips turn up. But he does know, deep down somewhere in his chest the truth resonates and he will ignore it for as long as he can because he can’t take it, he just can’t let himself-

But he wants to. He wants to scream to the whole world that he is who he is and he’s sick of people telling him he has to change (not that they’re wrong). But he knows, he already knows that he’s beyond saving, too broken to do anything more but scatter his pieces in the wind, and there’s not really any changing that because believe him, please believe him when he says he’s tried. And he really has, but he can’t get rid of the fact that he’s a hybrid or the ice that comes from his eyes.

And no matter how much he’s wished, how hard he’s tried to beat it out of himself, Scott can’t get rid of the feeling, the knowledge, that the only people he’s ever wanted to kiss have been boys. Owen is right. He’s always been right and always will be right but Scott can only let himself know that for a few seconds because otherwise he’ll fall, and once he starts falling, he can’t come out.

So he lets himself have the knowledge for a couple of seconds and then boxes it away again, shaking his head slightly in the darkness, glancing cautiously over at Jimmy, his face awash in the light from the big screen, transfixed by the movie. He catches Scott looking, and smiles brightly in his direction, gorgeous and happy and everything Scott isn’t.

God.

It’s going to be a long couple of months, a long couple of years until he can leave, he knows it will be. And the movie passes quickly; Scott sometimes tuning in, though it’s hard with his mind wandering this way and that, looping and twisting and going in twenty different directions at once, but never back to whatever he had seen in Jimmy’s mind. And then it’s over and Jimmy’s pulling at his arm, telling him they’re leaving.

They file out of the theater, Joel loping forwards behind them, Jimmy absolutely buzzing, starstruck. “So, did you enjoy the movie?” Scott asks, pretty certain he knows the answer.

“Yeah.” Jimmy really does have the most beautiful smile, perfect rows of shining white teeth, rounded and normal, nothing like the sharper siren teeth that line Scott’s mouth, one of his only fully siren features. “I really, really did, thank you guys so much for agreeing to come with me.”

“Anytime,” Joel grins, rubbing the avian’s head, causing his hair to stand up on end and his hairclip to fall out. “Oh, sorry!”

“It’s fine.” Jimmy leans down to pick up his barrette, folding his wings in close (probably so they don’t smash into the other moviegoers). “Joel-” he starts, before the pin is snatched from the floor by a pair of dark purple hands- hands that aren’t Jimmy’s.

“Well, if it isn’t the boys!” Xornoth smirks, spinning the hair clip between zir fingers. Joey’s practically dripping off of zir other arm, grinning while sucking on a bright red lollipop; Sausage peering out from behind the tiefling, eyeing the three party boys curiously.

Scott freezes. Oh, hell no. Not this again. For the past month, ever since Jimmy first came to school, Xornoth’s been non stop tormenting the avian, turning zir focus away from Scott and hounding in on Jimmy. There have been countless incidents where Scott or Joel or Shelby, or even Owen, have found Jim sitting at the end of the hallway, visibly trying very hard not to cry.

Jimmy looks up slowly, almost as if he’s hoping that somehow, his blissful moment won’t be ruined by the appearance of his biggest problem. But there’s not really a chance for that, is there, and Scott can’t help but wince at his expression, fallen about twenty places from just a few moments before. “What are you doing here,” the avian whispers- and it’s not a question, it comes across as more of a curse, an quiet anger personified into words.

“Just watching a movie, same as you, right? Hope there isn’t a problem with that, Little Bird.” Ze smiles down at Jimmy, still knelt on the floor, too shocked by this sudden and unfortunate turn of events to get up.

“Don’t call me that. I don’t like it.” The intonation on every syllable makes it extraordinarily clear what Jimmy’s trying to communicate here, and yet Xornoth cocks zir head to the side in mock confusion, an overdone exaggeration of Jimmy’s bird-like mannerisms.

“Who knew I’d be seeing you all here,” Xornoth purrs, walking in a wide circle around Jimmy, Scott, and Joel. “And what a surprise your little gnome isn’t here! I can see why the tiefling might decide to not take part in this little outing, though.”

“What do you mean?” Jimmy asks, finally getting up off the floor, standing straight in his full height, but he’s still dwarfed by Xornoth- so is everyone else here, except for Joel.

“I mean,” Xornoth continues, absentmindedly checking over zir nails while glancing out of the corner of zir eye to gauge the reaction of the others, “that Owen hasn’t really been hanging around you all a lot lately, has he now? Wherever has he been? Or maybe more importantly: where do you think he’s been?”

“Well, he’s with Lilith,” Scott inserts himself into the conversation, making sure Jimmy doesn’t get too overwhelmed. “You know, his enbyfriend.”

Xornoth’s eyes widen and zir grin grows, bright fangs contrasting incredibly against zir dark purple skin. “So you really don’t know. That’s very interesting, isn't it? That he wouldn’t have told you. Maybe you aren’t as good friends as you think.” At the last word, Xornoth pokes a sharp nail into Scott’s chest, emphasizing every word ze’s just said tenfold in Scott’s mind.

He looks up to speak again, tell Xornoth that ze’re wrong, there’s no other words for it, Owen’s just having a rough time is all, what with Jimmy arriving and all his sisters and just everything. But as he opens his mouth, Joel pushes him back and steps forwards, crossing his arms as he towers over Xornoth, Joey, and Sausage, his tail swinging menacingly behind him.

“Get out of here.” Joel’s tone is flat and final, leaving no room for speculation. “We don’t want you ruining our time, and you don’t know shit about Owen or any of us. Leave.”

Xornoth glances to the side, and Scott can tell that ze knows ze isn’t getting out of this one if ze continues. “We have places to be anyway,” ze smirks, snaking an arm around Joey’s shoulder, the siren moving closer and resting a hand on Xornoth’s chest. “C’mon, Sausage, or we’ll be late.” Sausage grins and mock salutes Scott, before following after the other two as they saunter down the hall.

The three of them just stand there for a minute, unsure of how to continue. There are a couple beats of silence before Jimmy says, “I didn’t get my hairclip back.” His voice is low and cautious and Scott can tell that he might start crying. Oh, god, he doesn’t want Jimmy’s perfect time to be ruined, he’s been waiting to see this movie since forever and now Xornoth’s popped up out of nowhere and almost ruined everything.

And so that’s why Scott steps forwards and wraps his arms around Jimmy’s shoulders, hugging him tightly. “I’ll get you a new one,” he whispers in the avian’s ear, ruffling his hand in Jimmy’s hair.

“Thanks,” he mutters, clutching tightly around Scott’s midriff, which flutters at the contact. Then Jim lets go, rubbing his eyes. Scott hangs on for just a millisecond too long- he’s not the best at reading queues, and if he’s honest, it was just a really nice hug, nothing like the stiff ones he receives from Owen.

Jimmy coughs, Scott clearing his throat and looking at Joel. “So… what should we do from here?”

“I mean, it’s lunchtime, do you all want to go grab some shitty fried food?”

“That sounds really good right about now,” Scott says. He stretches, cracking his neck a few times to work out a little pain that’s been growing there throughout the movie.

“Yeah,” Jimmy agrees, quietly looking off into nothing.

“Alright, come on, let’s go then!” Joel begins to walk confidently forwards, Jimmy not quite following. Scott turns back, grabbing his wrist and dragging him along. The avian doesn’t resist, even smiling a little.

The rest of the day is much better, Jimmy’s salad seeming to cheer him up immensely, Scott quite enjoying his own chicken sandwich. After lunch, they leave the restaurant and head off to a state park for a hike or two (or seven, as it turns out), where Jimmy gets to practice his flying; something he’s quite new at. Though he’s not as grateful as other avians Scott’s seen, he can’t deny that there’s some sort of clumsy charm about the way Jimmy flops through the air, so proud whenever he manages to stay aloft for a couple minutes time.

And then they’re heading home, and Scott’s house is the first along the way. He’s dropped off in front of the mansion, Joel going off on his usual tangent about how no one, “not even a celestial as tall and handsome as me,” needs to live in a home this oversized. And Scott has to admit, as he grabs his bag from the car and thanks Joel and Jimmy for the day out, that his house is ridiculously ginormous.

He reaches into his pocket to pull out his phone (he wants to check on Owen and Shelby) but it’s not there. Huh. Scott realizes he hasn’t seen it this whole time, he’s been too preoccupied to even think of checking his texts- he must have left it at home in the first place. Well, at least that’s where he is now.

Scott sighs and begins to make his way through the immaculate front garden, even the walkway stones clean and polished, not a single piece of gravel out of place. It’s dark now, and the lights have turned on, old-fashioned Victorian oil lamps that line the edges of the garden, giving Scott just barely enough light to see by. It feels weirdly foreboding tonight, the slight drizzle from the morning having turned to a thunderstorm.

He stretches quickly before reaching the front door, grabbing the key from his pocket and turning it in the lock. The huge double-M door creaks open, and Scott makes for the staircase, planning to just go straight upstairs so he doesn’t have to face his father.

But there’s already someone walking down the steps, glaring down at him, angrier than Scott’s ever seen him, a phone clutched in the man’s right hand, his snakes hissing aggressively, his shades removed.

It’s Father.

“Scott. You need to explain yourself. Now.”

Oh, shit.

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