to summarize (sorry for repetition from other post but i wanted everything in one post):
1. everyone keeps pointing out how similar archie and jason looked and were. they had more in common than sports; they were both tutored by ms grundy (pause for vom), they were both at the river. they both had red hair. archie was the intended target, and the killer is grundy’s husband.
why? like i’ve said, i hated that plot to high hell but grundy did seem to be really genuinely afraid of him (assuming that was the truth), afraid that he’d do something terrible to her. if it was the truth and that’s why she changed her identity, then ostensibly he’s real dangerous.
2. edit: it would be a huge realization for archie that he was a victim. he really assumed he was safe with grundy. that was actually something he reiterated many times—he knew what he was doing, he was safe, it was all his choice. but it wasn’t, right? he was manipulated by her, and completely preyed upon.
i think it would help archie realize that he was a victim and come to terms with the way she abused him emotionally as well as physically.
the original point didn’t come off right, so i edited it here to clarify.
it also makes sense because the only other people with motives to torture a kid for a week seemed to acquit themselves in the recent episode
polly has an alibi, the coopers genuinely seem like they didn’t do it (plus it’d be way too obvious), and the blossoms wouldn’t torture jason
3. we’re halfway through the season; if we haven’t met the killer yet i’d be surprised. if i’ve learned anything by doing meta and theories is how to structure pacing. the killer has to strike again, and it has to be someone we’ve seen; someone who’s a recurring character. all of the main characters seem innocent.
so back to my first point, who’s the only lone character with those connections to grundy and archie, re: music?
professor oscar castillo.
4. remember in 1x05 where he stiffened at the name “grundy” ? he said “the music teacher who left?” remember when he turned away and said something weird about the connection she clearly had with archie? how he clearly hated archie on sight? he’s grundy’s husband.
the actor has been booked for a recurring role [x], and i’ll bet he was at the river that day, he thought jason was archie, but after he’d realized it wasn’t archie he couldn’t let jason leave. so he tortured him for information on grundy and archie and eventually shot jason, but now has to wait for the right time to strike again.
Zutarians act like Katara's romance with Aang is to the detriment of her character but somehow one with Zuko wouldn't just put her in nurturing position for an older man. I am not for Kataang but I don't think any of the show's characters would NOT put Katara in the position of a nurturer and giver. She gives too much as it is. Except perhaps Toph but Toph is twelve, confused and has parental issues. What I'm trying to ask is what does Katara gain from Zutara except acceptance.
Katara would gain a partner who would help her with household duties without being asked:
Rather than someone who leaves the chores to her while he shows off for his fangirls.
Katara: Watching you show off for a bunch of girls does not sound like fun.
Aαng: Well, neither does carrying your basket.
She would gain a partner who shares parental responsibilities …
Aαng, don’t walk away from this.
Zuko: Let him go. He needs time to sort it out by himself.
And acts like a father:
Zuko: Keep in mind, these are dual swords. Two halves of a single weapon. Don’t think of them as separate, because they’re not. They’re just two different parts of the same whole.
Rather than someone who IS a parental responsibility …
And acts like her son.
Katara: What do you think,
Aαng? Do I act like a mom?
Aαng: Well, I… Katara: Stop rubbing your eye and speak clearly when you talk!
Katara: My goodness! That doesn’t sound like our Kuzon.
Katara: I’ve been training Aαng for a while now. He really responds well to a positive teaching experience. Lots of encouragement and praise. Kind words. If he’s doing something wrong, maybe a gentle nudge in the right direction.
She would gain a partner who respects her personal boundaries:
Katara: What are you doing?! Zuko: Keeping rocks from crushing you. Katara: Okay, I’m not crushed. You can get off me now.
Zuko [retracts his arm so Katara can move away from him]: I’ll take that as a thank you.
Rather than someone who transgresses them.
Katara: Aαng, I’m sorry but right now, I’m just a little confused.
Katara: I just said that I was confused!
Someone who sees her as an ally:
Zuko: I can handle Azula. Iroh: Not alone. You’ll need help. Zuko: You’re right. Katara, how would you like to help me put Azula in her place?
And not a possession.
Actor Zuko: Wait. I thought you were the Avatar’s girl.
Someone who waits for the right time to talk:
Katara: You look terrible. Zuko: I waited out here all night.
Rather than pushing her:
Katara: Because we’re in the middle of a war and we have other things to worry about. This isn’t the right time. Aαng: Well, when IS the right time?
Someone who understands how much she needs her family to be there …
Katara: Dad. Hakoda: Hi, Katara. Katara: How are you here? What is going on?
And puts their needs over his:
Sokka: No, I’m staying. You guys go. You’ve been here long enough. Suki: I’m not leaving without you, Sokka. Zuko: I’m staying too.
Rather than someone who disappears when she depends on him …
Katara: He left. Hakoda: What? Katara: Aαng. He just took his glider and disappeared. He has this ridiculous notion that he has to save the world alone. That it’s all his responsibility. Hakoda: Maybe that’s his way of being brave. Katara: It’s not brave. It’s selfish and stupid. We could be helping him. And I know the world needs him, but doesn’t he know how much that we need him too? How could he just leave us behind?
And puts his needs over theirs.
Sokka: This is the map to our father! You had it the whole time!? How could you?
She would not only gain a partner who, unlike her canon love interest, sympathizes with the loss of her mother:
Katara: Well, I just want you to be prepared for what you might see. The Fire Nation is ruthless. They killed my mother and they could have done the same to your people. Aαng: Just because no one has seen an airbender doesn’t mean the Fire Nation killed them all. They probably escaped. Katara: I know it’s hard to accept. Aαng: You don’t understand, Katara. The only way to get to an airbender temple is on a flying bison, and I doubt the Fire Nation has any flying bison. Right, Appa?
Katara: I don’t?! How dare you! You have no idea what this war has put me through. Me personally. The Fire Nation took my mother away from me.
Zuko: I’m sorry. That’s something we have in common.
Katara: But, we were too late. When we got there, the man was gone. And so was she. Zuko: Your Mother was a brave woman.
Katara: I know.
But who trusts her to deal with anger and pain in HER way …
Rather than pestering her to do things HIS way.
Aαng: Katara, you sound like Jet.
Aαng: Katara, you do have a choice. Forgiveness.
Aαng: It’s okay, because I forgive you. That give you any ideas?
Let your anger out and then let it go. Forgive him.
Aαng: You did the right thing. Forgiveness is the first step you have to take to begin healing.
Ironically, a partner who understands that some things are more important than romance!
Aαng: Katara is in danger! I have to go.
Guru Pathik: No, Aαng! By choosing attachment, you have locked the chakra! If you leave now you won’t be able to go into the Avatar State at all!
Zuko: Stop! This isn’t about you. This is about the Fire Nation.
But who would still die for her in a heartbeat …
Rather than risk her life (and everyone’s) to retain his moral purity.
Most of all, she would gain someone who sees her for who she is:
they are two red-haired women, one pureblood and one muggleborn, but neither of them care because blood does not matter
(except that it does. except that this whole stupid war is about blood)
they are two red-haired women with the future of the wizarding world growing in their bellies
and this is how it goes
gideon and fabian prewett go into the ground that day
molly, the last remaining prewett, feels like she’s drowning
(and although she is now a weasley, she will always be a prewett)
arthur’s hand in hers reminds her that she is not alone (far from it, in fact), but it does not ease the pain, the grief of losing all that was left of her family in one fell swoop
there is a stream of endless platitudes and consolations, so repetitive and meaningless that they blend into one another
(and she feels awful for the ones she has offered in the past)
(sometimes words mean so little)
she tries to tune it all out. sometimes she mutters, ‘thank you,’ towards her feet, but mostly she is silent
‘when are you due?’
it is the only question that cuts through because it is so thoroughly unexpected, especially at a funeral
looking up, she meets a pair of brilliant green eyes, softened with sympathy in this moment
(but she knows just by looking at her that this woman can be hard, so hard and strong when she wants to be)
(and behind the woman stands a tall, bespectacled man with black hair, wilder and messier than hair really has a right to be, and she knows immediately that they are lily and james potter, who gideon and fabian talked about because of how bright and brave and in love they are)
when she does not answer, lily tries again, ‘you are pregnant, right? this isn’t some awful, social faux pas where i’ve asked a woman if she’s pregnant when she’s not, right?’
james sniggers and lily elbows him in the stomach
(and she wonders about these two, clearly so young, too young, for war and for a baby and for merlin knows what else might be coming)
(but she sees the way he holds her hand reverently, and the way she looks up at him reproachfully, her eyes betraying her amusement and embarrassment, and how he smiles and she smiles back and molly may as well not be there because they are so in love and damn the war)
‘march,’ she eventually answers and the anxiety in lily’s face melts away
then molly casts her eyes downwards and smiles
‘august,’ she answers, glowing like only a woman who is creating life can
lily’s hand skims across her stomach, the instinctual action of a woman whose belly is full of baby
(and molly would know, she has patted her own belly too many times to count)
‘well, i guess our children will be going to hogwarts together, then,’ molly muses aloud
‘maybe they’ll be best friends,’ lily smirks
and, for a moment, molly feels lighter because it is so reassuring to talk about the future in this way, to think about her children growing up in a world where they’re safe and happy and blood doesn’t matter and they can be whatever they choose to be
‘potter and weasley,’ james is staring dreamily at the sky before dropping his gaze back down and grinning widely
‘hogwarts won’t know what hit it.’
she never sees them again
her hands shake when she reads about them in the daily prophet
and she cries when she thinks about how they were bright and brave and so young
(too young and so in love)
(and now gone too soon)
she never forgets, but the memory does fade, the memory of meeting a vivacious couple on one of the worst days of her life and how they gave her hope for a future when the word future felt like taboo
and it doesn’t happen the way any of them had predicted, but it happens
because ron writes home in september 1991, talking about how he made friends with harry potter and how he stuffed himself silly on the hogwarts express because harry was generous and cool and being friends with him was easy and natural
so she thinks of lily and how she rubbed her belly, green eyes alight with hope
and she thinks of james and his cheeky grin and what he said that day
‘potter and weasley. hogwarts won’t know what hit it.’
okay i know Hardeen was a Terrible arc for everyone involved, but what if Obi Wan had told Anakin about faking his death? Anakin’s like no worries dude I Got This, except he really. does not,,
the only reason his “acting” is remotely believable is because almost no one has seen him like this before, so it must be due to all the grief and loss and heartbreak and anger and whatnot
he starts by sobbing over Obi Wan’s supposedly dead body for a solid two hours when Obi gets shot down. “LOOK at him, so cold and Lifeless. D: HE IS SUPPOSED TO BE WARM AND FULL OF LIFE, SNIPS. I know last week I checked his pulse because he was meditating so calmly I thought he passed away in his sleep, BUT HE’S USUALLY SO WARM AND FULL OF LIFE.”
It goes on until Anakin has finished everything on his painstakingly written Outline from last night. At least half of Coruscant hears part of this speech. Mace sends Obi the security footage later, at a time he knows Anakin will be there to sit through it with Obi, because if we had to suffer then you do too, Obi Wan.
then at the funeral, Anakin pulls out a twenty foot scroll of real actual paper, because he would appreciate this, I think, and clears his throat loudly and messily before telling the council that he has prepared a few words for the greatest jedi this order, nay, this GALAXY has ever seen, and will ever see, no matter how long any of us live—
five hours later,, he’s still going strong. half the eulogy is Terrible and V Cringeworthy, but the other half is actually v heartfelt and moving. even Mace and Yoda have to blink away some tears.
it becomes easier after Anakin starts going into Unnecessary Details about obi wan’s life, like how he’ll miss holding onto those heavy 327 thread count woolen robes when he’s saving obi’s ass (curvature 48.5 degrees) for the 23094th time, and how he’ll never see a more sincere expression of Compassion than he saw when reading line 83 of Obi Wan’s eighth letter to Duchess Satine last month, quoted now as follows—
Ahsoka enlists Plo Koon’s help and they finally shuffle him over to the side, promising him they can finish his fake eulogy at the council dinner tonight. Obi Wan’s death may be fake, but MY WORDS ARE REAL, SNIPS, HOW DARE YOU. says Anakin, before he (a little gleefully) starts destroying the walls to show how Emotionally Compromised he is over this 100% real death.
he takes the 212th drinking, after having told all of them, too. so now there are 293637 men crying about Obi Wan (relatable af, y/y), all of which have the acting talent of a wilted blade of grass. there are 283747 toasts, and every single person there cries for each and every one of them, despite everyone knowing obi is still alive
I love the HP fandom, but I just hate how in this fandom Snape gets more love than he deserves, meanwhile James Potter gets more hate than he will ever deserve. I can’t believe that it’s 2017 and people still believe Snape was a hero and James was a terrible person.
James Potter was a jerk when he was a teen and yes, he bullied Snape. But he was 15, and “a lot of people are idiots at the age of fifteen”. Tell me that you weren’t an idiot sometimes at that age, I dare you.
If he was such a bad person, then why was he totally okay with Remus being a werewolf? He loved his friends like nobody else, and it’s canon. He became an unregistered animagi so that his werewolf friend wouldn’t have to suffer through the full moon alone.
Do you realize that when James Potter used Levicorpus on Snape, he had already been planning on becoming a death eater and had been trying to out Remus as a Werewolf? This is actual canon from DH.
You have to remember that even if James was an idiot, Snape was no saint either. Remus even said that Snape “never lost an opportunity to curse James”. In fact, it’s mentioned by anyone who talks about the marauders and Snape that the animosity and hexing between them was mutual, so don’t tell me that only James hexed Snape. We don’t actually know how one-sided Snape’s bullying was. But if what Remus said it’s true, then it was mutual. Even if Snape’s worst memory is true as told, this happened after he was openly associating with pureblood supremacists, dismissing the use of dark magic as ‘a joke’.
You need to remember that James despised Dark Magic, and he couldn’t even just say the word “mudblood”. He was the complete opposite to a pureblood supremacist.
He grew up and became Head Boy. He matured, and did it enough for Lily to fall in love with him.
After school (possibly even in his final year), James grew up, and became part of the Order of the Phoenix
as soon as he left Hogwarts. He realized what a douche he was to people and changed for the better. He joined the Order because there were innocent people dying for no reason, and he knew he could fight and help. He joined because he loved Lily and he wanted to make sure there was a future for them, a future where they could live happily ever after.
And then he died trying to protect his family. He faced Lord Volvemort wandless, unarmed, so his wife and their baby could escape. James Potter was many things but he was not an idiot. He knew that facing Voldemort at that point would be the last thing he did, but did it anyway. He decided that Lily’s life, and Harry’s, was more important than his own.
You have to rememeber that literally everybody from Hagrid to Lord Voldemort thought James Potter was a good and brave man.
On the other hand, Snape called the girl he was ”in love with” a mudblood infront of the entire school. He directly verbally abused her with a racial slur and became involved in a movement that wanted to kill her and eradicate her kind. He chose to shatter their friendship because his ego was hurt that a girl was helping him, even though she probably was the only person who was nice to him.
His treatment of Petunia was terrible. He’s been bullying people since before he even went to Hogwarts. Since he was little, he thought muggle-borns and muggles were inferior.
He created a spell that could kill his enemies when he was at Hogwarts. And after that, he finally joined a terrorist organization that wanted to kill people like the woman he was supposed to be in love with. He probably killed and tortured people.
He was a loyal Death Eater for multiple years.
Snape may have loved Lily, but his love for her was selfish, seen in the fact that he was willing to let her husband and her infant child die. Actually, I don’t think he loved her. He was obsessed with her. Or at least, he loved the idea of her that was on his mind, not the real Lily Evans.
If he had really loved her, he would have tried to save her family, knowing that she would suffer if they died. But he was willing to let a baby and an innocent man die if it meant he could save Lily. If it meant he could have her.
And when Lily died to protect her child, he realized that he made the wrong decision and “changed”. He became a spy, and I know it was hard. I understand that. I acknowledge Snape’s efforts as a spy and his contributions to the war. In the end, he turned out to be a brave man who tried to rectify his mistakes. But that doesn’t really change how a terrible person he was.
He abused his students, he bullied them. He targeted Neville, knowing he already had self-esteem issues, knowing what happened to his parents.
He threatened to poison his pet. He consciously targeted someone he perceived as weak, to the point where he became Neville’s worst fear at age 13. A fucking teacher was his biggest fear, not the people that tortured his parents into madness. Don’t you see how fucked up is that?!
Snape body shamed and insulted Hermione, who was an intelligent and hardworking student (just like Lily). He made her cry.
Yes, he tried to protect Harry, and saved his life more than once. But he also verbally abused him, a neglected, abused, orphan who had done nothing wrong but look like his dead father. A father that he didn’t even know, by the way. Snape mocked and insulted him at every turn. Snape did everything that he could to make Harry’s life miserable because it was his way to have his revenge against James. This is not a 15 years old boy bullying another, it’s a fucking 30 years old man abusing a kid because he couldn’t let it go his hate about a dead person.
He tried to have an innocent man killed because of what happened when they were 16. Yes, Sirius was an idiot for that, I’m not denying it, but he didn’t
coerce Snape into doing anything. He just gave him information. It means that Snape, on his own, decided it would be a great idea to sneak into the Shrieking Shack just to prove that Remus was a werewolf.
He caused Remus to lose his job after spending years suffering in poverty. He deliberately made Remus’ students to write an essay on how to spot and kill a werewolf, to emotionally attack and possibly out him as a werewolf. He later did out him to the entire wizarding world, just because he was angry because Sirius didn’t die.
After seeing the abuse Dursley’s inflicted on Harry, he thought it was funny and felt no sympathy. Harry was fifteen. The same age that Snape was when he was (supposedly) “bullied”. He didn’t care about the abuse, he didn’t see himself in Harry. He
it was funny. Fucking funny.
Usually, people at 15 are jerks and bully each other. But teachers aren’t supossed to abuse kids.
James Potter was a jackass, but he didn’t join the equivalent of a magical nazi organization when he left Hogwarts. He didn’t experiment with dark magic and he died protecting his family. He grew out of it. He was a good person in the end.
Snape only betrayed Voldemort because he was chasing after Lily.
He only left the death eaters because he wanted to protect Lily, if Neville was the chosen one, he would remain in his position as a Death Eater.
So sorry if I prefer James over Snape all the way.
When they get back to the bunker, Dean is surprised to see Mom head toward the room they’d assigned to her all those months ago. He assumed she’d leave as soon as they were safely back underground. He’s still staring down the hallway after her when he hears Cas sigh.
He turns to find him slumped in a kitchen chair, his hands in his lap and his coat closed enough to cover the blood and black…goo on his shirt. He’s staring down at the table with a crease between his brow.
“You OK?” Dean asks gruffly as he takes a tentative seat perpendicular to him.
Dean balks at the honesty but doesn’t say anything. He leans forward and folds his hands on top of the table. Somewhere in the direction of Sam’s room, a door opens and closes.
“I shouldn’t be alive,” Cas continues, still staring at the table. “I would’ve never…”
Suddenly Cas’ eyes pop up and past Dean as Sam enters the kitchen.
None of them say anything as Sam grabs a cold cup of coffee. Dean and Cas look at each other. When Sam leaves, Cas’ eyes find the table again.
“I wouldn’t’ve…said what I said,” Cas continues, hesitance clear in his tone, “If I had known…”
A couple of seconds pass before it clicks for Dean. “That you weren’t actually gonna die?”
Cas nods minutely.
Dean leans back, runs a hand up through his hair and then drops it to his knee. “Look, man, you know I ain’t good at this. But you are family, so…what you said…it’s not–it doesn’t–you’re not trying to take it back, are you?” What the fuck–that’s not what he meant to say at all.
“No, of course not.” For some reason, Cas sounds angry. “It’s just that I–nothing.” He quickly turns his head to the side, the way he used to do when Dean had hurt his feelings.
“Cas,” Dean says softly. He waits until Cas looks at him. “I was scared to death when I saw that…what that spear did to you. I can’t lose you, man. So, uh, tell me. Whatever’s on your mind, spit it out.” It’s too harsh, too casual, but anything else wouldn’t be Dean.
“I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”
Cas squints at him. “It was a declaration made because I thought it was the last chance I would get to tell you. I couldn’t die without telling you that I…that.”
Dean leans forward again and wipes his hand over his mouth. “You, uh, you didn’t make me uncomfortable. You know I’m not–I’m not very good at the whole, uh, love thing, but I know it’s there. I know we’re–you know, we’re good.”
Cas squints harder and leans forward so they’re only inches apart. “You knew I was in love with you?”
“That’s not–you didn’t–that’s not what you said, man. You didn’t say that.”
That’s his “quit being a dense idiot, Dean” voice.
Dean huffs a nervous laugh and stares at the table. “Yeah, uh, this would be a hell of a lot easier if you had died.”
Now Cas is laughing, too. “We are terrible at this.”
Dean lifts his eyes shyly. Cas is studying him.
“Do you remember…” Dean stops and sucks in a breath. He shouldn’t be talking about this. “That day in the cemetery, when we all thought I was gonna die.”
Cas nods once but doesn’t say anything.
“I wanted to, uh, say something.” Dean smiles and scratches the back of his head. “Actually, I didn’t. I wanted to–to kiss you.” He winces in embarrassment.
“I’m glad you didn’t.”
Dean looks sharply over at him.
“If you waited until you were on the brink of death to kiss me, I would’ve killed you myself.”
“You waited until your deathbed to tell me you lo–”
Cas cuts Dean’s argument off with a kiss. It’s just a tentative press of lips, but Dean still lets out a needy, embarrassing whimper as it happens. When Cas pulls away, Dean mumbles, “Nuh-uh,” and grabs him by the cheek to pull him back in. His hip is digging into the edge of the table, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care.
It’s sloppy and too fast and Cas is breathing heavy and whispering, “I love you,” over and over right against Dean’s mouth and it’s all too much and not nearly enough.
Later, in the pitch black of his room, lying breathless next to an angel, Dean tells Cas that he loves him, too.
Right. So. Might be mildly addicted to your 'Gods and Monsters' series. Definitely need an intervention, but I'll prolly ignore that anyway, so... anyway, can you do something with Zeus and Hera? I've always thought it was massively whack that the goddess of fidelity was with --according to Greek mythos--one of the biggest adulterers on Olympus. Definitely smelling a bit of an abusive relationship there, if you catch my drift... okay byeeeee
Hera, the young goddess of marriage and family, is only
unfaithful to her husband once.
She seduces Zeus first, right as the war ends and they’re all
pain and ash and thrumming with the excitement of victory. She smiles just so
and touches his bloody chest, her hand pale against the dark copper of his skin
and, and when he looks at her his eyes spark with the lightning he so easily
commands. She is named his wife that very night, her body littered with bruises
from his rough, eager hands, and she tells herself the bile at the back of her
throat tastes like victory.
She is queen of the gods. This is what she wants.
They’ve all claimed their domains and gone their separate ways,
Demeter to the earth, Hades to the underworld, and Hestia to Olympus where they
plan to build their palace. But Poseidon still lingers. “Don’t you have an ocean
to conquer?” she asks.
He looks at her, then behind her to where Zeus is busy
sketching plans for Olympus. “You don’t have to do this,” he says softly, “you –
you can come with me if you want. Or I’m sure Hades would take you.”
Hera has no time for Poseidon and his soft heart. “I will
only belong to the best,” she says, tossing her head so her crown of curls fall
over her shoulder. “You should go. You have work to do.”
“There are more important things than power,” he says
uncomfortably, shifting from foot to foot.
“No,” she says, “there aren’t.”
Hera would not mind Zeus’s women so much if they were not
constantly giving him children, something she has been unable to do.
She is an obedient wife. She does not turn her powers
against him, and she’s tolerant of his mortals at first, but the longer she is
empty of child the less patience she has. How can she be the goddess of family
without one of her own?
Her spite gets in her way, and she hurls every kind of
obstacle and curse she can at the woman her husband lies with. At first he is
angry with her, and bruises litter her throat and wrists. Then, as her wrath
and powers grow, he is afraid of her. He watches her warily, sneaking to the
mortal realm when before he wouldn’t even try to hide it. He submits when she
pins him to the bed and rides him hard, desperate for a child of his, desperate
to fulfill the perfect image of wife and mother she’s built for herself.
No matter her magic, no matter how many times they lie together,
Hera does not get with child.
She goes to Hestia, and her sister presses a hand to her
stomach and purses her lips and says, “Must it be his child?”
Hera stares. She’s the goddess of marriage and family. She
is not capable of infidelity. “I – I can’t.”
“Just once,” Hestia says, “the problem is not with you, nor
with him, clearly. Only the combination of you both. Lie with any other man,
and you will have your child.”
So Hera, just once, puts on a disguise and goes to the
mortal realm. She finds a man with skin darker than Zeus’s, a rich warm brown
that matches his soft eyes. She lies with him, and it hurts. He is kind and
patient and kisses the edge of her jaw, her shoulders, her navel. But to be
unfaithful grates against her very nature as a goddess, and every moment is
agony. He finishes, his mouth whispering kind things against her own, and she
leaves as soon as she can.
It works. She becomes round with child, and is happier than
she’s been in a long time. She does not mind Zeus’s mortals, and he even
becomes kinder while the baby grows inside of her. His hands become softer, and
he spends less time away from Olympus.
The baby is born, and Zeus is furious.
The child is too dark to be his, and he tears it from Hera’s
hands while she lies exhausted from the birth. “What do you care?” she cries,
struggling to stand, “You have dozens of children. What does it matter if I
He holds the baby in one hand and grabs her jaw with the
other, pulling her to her knees. “You are my wife,” he hisses, “the goddess of marriage
and family. You will have my child, or no child at all.”
He throws the baby from Mount Olympus. Hera screams, pushing
herself away from him and attempting to jump after it. Zeus catches her around
the waist, and with a crackle of power and roar of rage, he sends a lightning
bolt after the baby.
The child may have survived the fall, but not the lightning.
“NO!” Hera screeches, clawing at his arm as she struggles to
escape his grasp. Normally she’s not this helpless against him, but delivering
her baby has left her weaker than she’s ever been before.
He presses the flat of his hand against her swollen womb,
adding pressure until she cries out in pain and tries to squirm away from him. “My
child,” he repeats, voice low and terrible, “or no child at all.”
He lets her go, and she collapses, grasping out a hand over
the edge of Olympus. But the blood between her thighs is still wet, and she can’t
find the energy to stand. She wonders if she’ll have to crawl down the mountain
to retrieve her baby’s corpse.
“Sister!” Soft hands grab her shoulder and gently roll her
onto her back. Hestia’s face fills her vision, and Hera has never seen the
older goddess of hearth and fire look so cold. “I’ll kill him,” she says, hands
hovering over Hera like she’s not sure where to begin. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t
think this would happen, I didn’t think he would – I didn’t think.”
Hera curls on her side until she can place her head in her
sister’s lap. She’s not sobbing anymore, she’s never been one to fall into
hysterics, but she can’t stop crying, a steady stream of tears dripping
silently down her face. Hestia runs trembling hands through her hair. “Don’t,” she
whispers, “I did this, this is my fault. I – I should have known better.”
Hestia’s hand cup her face, leaning over so she can look her
in the eye. “This is not your fault.”
Her sister stands and picks her up in her arms. Hera tries
to tell her to put her down, that Zeus will be angry if she leaves, that she
did this to herself. But she falls unconscious before she can get any of it
Hera awakens someplace soft and warm. She opens her eyes,
and she’s inside Hades’s palace. Her confusion lasts only until her memories
come rushing back, and then she has to bite her lip until it bleeds to stop
herself from crying out.
“Hestia brought you here. She’s returned to Olympus to cover
for you both. Do not worry – Zeus doesn’t know where you are.” She turns her
head, and sees the goddess of magic at her side. Hecate smiles, “I have mended
you, do not worry. All is well.”
All is not well.
That statement is so far from true, and her instant urge is to crush Hecate to
dust for the audacity. Before she can make up her mind one way or the other,
there’s a soft knock on the door. It opens to reveal her elder brother. “I have
something that belongs to you,” he says, and Here focuses on the bundle in the
crook of his elbow.
Her baby’s corpse. She’s relieved someone thought to get it.
Her heart feels like lead, and all the control she’d had over her emotions is
gone instantly. She hopes they’ll leave her alone to hold the body of her child
Hades gingerly sits on the edge of the bed, and Hecate rises
to help Hera prop herself up so she’s at least sitting. “He’s a strong little
thing,” Hades says, and Hera doesn’t understand.
Then a warm, wriggling baby is placed in her arms. He’s got
great big eyes and his mouth splits into a toothless grin when he sees her. “He’s
alive,” she says numbly.
“Not without sacrifice,” Hecate says softly, and reaches
over to undo the blanket he’s swaddled in.
Her son has no legs below his knees.
“Zeus’s lightning bolt didn’t kill him, but we cannot return
what was lost,” Hades says, pained. “When he’s older, maybe we can do
something, give him something in place of legs. But for now, there’s nothing I
The king of the underworld is the most powerful god after
her husband. Hera knows that, even if Zeus doesn’t. If Hades can’t do anything about
her son’s legs, then no can. But he’s alive, Zeus didn’t manage to kill him,
and Hera finds herself so grateful that she’s holding a smiling, living child
that she can’t be anything but relieved. Her son is alive, and happy. He doesn’t
“I can’t bring him back to Olympus,” she looks up at them, “Can
you find someone to raise him? Someone you trust?”
She doesn’t trust anyone, so it can’t be her choosing.
“You’re going back
to him?” Hecate demands, “Hestia said – but I thought for sure – you don’t have
to! Don’t go back to him!”
“I must,” she holds her son to her chest, and he reaches out
with chubby hands to tug at her hair. “I am the goddess of marriage, and he is
She looks up at her brother, and he raises an eyebrow. He
would protect her, he would put himself in between her and Zeus’s wrath if she
asked him to. But she won’t, and she thinks he knows it. She says, “I am Hera
of the Heights, of Argos, of the Mound. I am the cow eyed, white armed goddess
of marriage and of family. I am Hera, queen of the gods.” She looks down at her
son, and her heart clenches, because for now a title that cannot be afforded to
her is that of mother. “I will not abandon my dominion, nor my husband. I will
return to Mount Olympus.”
“But you don’t love him,” Hecate says helplessly.
Hera stares, baffled that anyone could think her marriage had
anything to do with love. “Of course not. But this isn’t about love. It’s about
The goddess of magic swallows, then says, “I will raise him.”
Even Hades is surprised by that. “Hecate?”
“I will raise him,” she repeats, “He will stay with me, safe
in the underworld where Zeus cannot find him, until he’s old enough and strong
enough to protect himself.”
“Thank you,” Hera says, and lowers her head enough to kiss
the top of her son’s head. “Tell him that I’m the one that threw him from
Olympus.” When she looks up, Hades is resigned while Hecate looks on in horror.
“Tell him, tell everyone. I gave birth to a hideous son, and I threw him from
Olympus. His legs were crushed in the fall. I did this. Zeus tried to stop me,
but could not.”
“Why?” Hecate asks.
Hera smiles down at her son, her heart full with a helpless
sort of love. “So that when he ventures from the safety of the underworld, Zeus
will have no reason to hurt him. So that when he comes to Olympus, Zeus will be
unable to hurt him without explaining
he was the one that tried to kill him in the first place.” She runs the back of
her finger down his cheek, and he grabs it, his little fist holding onto her. “Blame
me, and he will be safe.”
Hecate looks like she wants to argue. Hades puts a hand on her
shoulder and asks Hera, “What’s his name?”
Her son smiles, and tugs at her hand, the beginnings of a
giggle gurgling in his throat.
“His name is Hephaestus.”
When she returns, she no longer has any patience for Zeus’s
mortals. When before she had only inconvenienced them, now she’s not playing
any games. Those that do not die end up wishing they had, and she’s especially
vindictive to any mortal carrying her husband’s child.
She sits on her throne, waiting, a smirk curled around the
corner of her lips.
Zeus barges in and charges towards her. He’s so angry smoke
is rising off his skin. “You,” he hisses, “this is your doing.”
“Whatever do you mean?” she asks, unflinching when he slams
his hands on either side of her head, crushing the back of her throne with the
force of it.
“She and the children are dead,” he snarls, “my children are dead! I know this is
your doing, it reeks of your handiwork.”
Hera slides forward to the edge of her throne, their faces
nearly touching, and spreads her legs. He flexes his hands, because even at his
most furious he still wants her. She is his wife and his queen. She banishes
her clothing so she’s spread out before him, hair piled high and jewelry
glinting around her neck. “What are you going to do about it?”
He kisses her hard enough to bruise, and Hera crosses her
legs around his back, urging him closer. “Why are you doing this?” he hisses,
mouthing at her neck, because he hates her even as he loves her, hates her
because he loves her, and loves her because he hates her.
She waits until he’s inside her to lick the shell of his ear
and whisper, “My child, or no child at all, husband.”
When he breaks her skin with his teeth, she only laughs.
They do this to each other. Maybe they are meant to be
description: Engraved in your skin, the time and date that you will meet the person that fate believes is perfect for you. Seven years since the marks rose from the depths of your souls, the two of you have been waiting and now the moment is finally here. But the date of your meeting just also happens to be on Christmas and unfortunately Jungkook has absolutely no idea what to get for someone who somehow already means so much to him, yet he still knows so little about.
Jungkook’s dreams are filled with starry skies. The black
expanse painted with twinkling lights and a crescent moon finish. Lying on his
back, the blades of grass falling between the spaces of his fingers. Everything
feels so calm, a light breeze mixing with the coldness of the air around him. This is perfect, he thinks to himself.
But then suddenly the gentle graze of something settles its way onto the palm
of his hand and he thinks to himself — no, this
The grip of his hand tightens around the soft and delicate
skin of your wrist. He runs his thumb along the top of your knuckles as he
tries to memorize the ridges of his self-conjured image of your being. It
induces goosebumps along his entire body. Just from your touch alone, and in a
dream no less, he is still so affected. A deep inhale enters his lungs before
he turns to look at you lying next to him in the grassy meadow of his dreams.
The edges of his vision are blurry and he can’t make out your face, but it
doesn’t matter to him because this is
perfect — you are perfect.
He wants to move closer. He wants to hold you in his arms,
and he is so close to making this a reality, even if it is in his dreams, but
Buck, I've been feeling like my head's splitting open on-and-off since Tuesday, and now I'm getting other symptoms too. Please distract me with embarrassing stories about Steve? i love those.
when steve was twelve, he broke his arm.
surprisingly, it wasn’t in a fight–he was carrying a twenty-pound bag of potatoes up the stairs for his ma and he tripped. went down the whole flight, potatoes bouncing everywhere. after he’d recovered a bit from the tumble, he sat up, looked at old mrs. mackinnon– who was just coming out of her apartment–and said “sorry for the mess.” and then he looked down and noticed that his forearm was bent in the middle. and then he started crying.
so his ma ran him to the hospital and they set his arm and put it in a cast.
and thus began the first era of the Unstoppable Steve. (the second era was after erskine made a limited edition Jumbo Steve, and the third was Steve: Reheated.)
see, if you’ve ever had a plaster cast, you know that those things are shockingly sturdy. steve went from being a sixty pound asthmatic with rage issues to being a sixty pound asthmatic with rage issues and a right hook like a piledriver. at first, his arm was too tender for him to do much, but after it started healing up, and he started getting in fights again, he figured out that his right arm was better than a baseball bat when it came to hitting stuff. that plaster cast started white, but it didn’t take long for it to get brownish with dirt and bloodstains. he still got his ass kicked, but it took a bit more work, and the other guys actually looked like they’d been in a fight.
anyway, steve was half in love with that cast. sometimes i thought he never wanted to take if off, and if it hadn’t messed with his drawing, i think he’d’ve worn it for about a year. but about a week before it was supposed to be taken off anyway, stevie got in a fight with gerry, the shoemaker’s kid from up the block. gerry was a mean sonofagun. he was thirteen, and he’d hit puberty early, so he had a solid eight inches on wee stevie. and he was as dumb as a box of bricks.
he hated steve. steve was tiny, sure, but he was sharp as a tack and well-liked. there wasn’t an old lady within miles that didn’t love stevie, so he was always getting penny candy for running errands for them. gerry had a habit of cornering stevie in alleyways and beating on him until candy fell out. steve had a habit of not letting him do it without a fight.
gerry cornered stevie and started shoving at him. steve shoved back. gerry shoved harder. stevie stumbled, and gerry threw a punch. stevie took it full in the face, and then swung back, full-force, with that sledgehammer cast of his.
steve plowed his cast into the old brick alley wall. the brick shattered.
stevie’s cast broke. so did two of stevie’s fingers.
steve started screaming.
now, understand–it was old, old brick, but all gerry saw was little crazy stevie rogers punch a hole in a brick wall and then start shrieking like a berserker. rat-brain gerry wasn’t bright, but he knew a losing battle when he saw one, so he ran like the hulk himself had just showed up in that alley. smartest thing he could’ve done, really, because i’d just shown up and if he’d kept after stevie, i’d’ve handed him his ass.
as it was, i pried stevie’s cast off and walked him back to the hospital. the doctors said his arm was plenty healed and didn’t need a new cast, and splinted up his fingers.
steve didn’t like the splints nearly as much as he’d liked the cast. they made absolutely terrible weapons.
I was innocently scrolling through amazon, looking for Sidney Crosby related wares as you do, when I stumbled upon this action figure
Pretty cool! Totally normal for a pro athlete, but then I accidentally zoomed in and–
WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU. WHO HURT YOU. WHAT IS IT BOY? WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO TELL US?
And right then, as I contemplated how they managed to create a Sidney Crosby face mold that sucks the soul right out of your eyeball sockets, I realized that multi-millionaire, face of the NHL, Sidney Crosby must have many many toys on the market that boast his face. This can’t be the only one. I furthered my research. I was not disappointed.
Steve smiled to himself as he watched Peter empty out his
closet to find the perfect outfit for his date. He wanted something “nice, but
not trying too hard.”
“Isn’t he adorable? I can remember being that young,
innocent and excited.”, Steve leaned his head onto Tony’s shoulder wistfully.
Tony took a sip of his coffee and scoffed, “’Innocent’ my
ass. That little boyfriend of his is gonna pull something soon, I can tell.”
“What makes you think that?”
“It’s their third date.”
Steve frowned a little and glanced up at his husband,
“What’s significant about that?”
“The third date is when most people deem it acceptable to
sleep with their partner. Some might even say you’re a prude if you don’t.”
Steve thought about this for a moment. Wade was a little bit
older than Peter, and Peter was so naïve, he probably didn’t even know what he
was in for. He needed to protect his son from this horn-dog, disgusting pervert
that Peter calls his boyfriend.
There was a knock on the door and Peter peaked out his door
at his parents, “Dad, can you get the door?”
“Why don’t you
get it, you’re right there?”, Tony said with disinterest as he took another sip
“I can’t just
open it, I have to make him wait a while.”
Tony rolled his
eyes, “He can wait outside.”
Peter turned his
attention to Steve, “Pop, pleeeaaase?”
Steve chuckled as he walked over to the door and let Wade
in. Wade stood awkwardly in the kitchen as Tony stared into his soul, enjoying
Wade’s discomfort. Peter walked out a few minutes later to greet Wade, who
immediately handed over the bouquet of wildflowers he had been holding.
“Flowers? For me? Oh, you shouldn’t have!”, Peter gushed,
obviously flattered and embarrassed.
“Can you believe it?”, Tony deadpanned as Peter rushed to
put the flowers in a vase on the table.
“Okay, well, we’re on our way to the movies. I’ll text you
guys so you know where we are so if I die you’ll know where to start looking
for my body.”
“Okay, sweetie, have fun.”, Steve smiled as the couple
walked out. The door closed and he immediately whipped around to face his
husband and frantically stage whispered, “We have to put a stop to this.”
Tony’s face lit up for the first time all day.
~ ~ ~
Peter and Wade sat down in the theater, quietly giggling
amongst themselves. Steve and Tony sat several rows behind them in terrible
make-shift disguises. Steve kept pulling his baseball cap down over his face in
an attempt to avoid eye contact while Tony adjusted the scarf warped around his
head and refused to take off his excessively large sunglasses.
Peter sat with the popcorn bucket in his lap, mindlessly
eating as he watched the movie. Because of this he almost didn’t notice Wade
slipping an arm around him. Peter didn’t realize that it was possible to
simultaneously melt and tense up, but here he is.
Tony started to slap Steve’s thigh quietly but frantically
at the sight of Wade’s arm around his son.
“What?!”, Steve hissed, afraid that Tony would attract
attention to them and get them kicked out of the theater.
Tony dramatically pointed to Wade and Peter and in a moment
of pure silence Steve gave an audible gasp. The two ducked down just in time to
avoid Peter turning around and seeing that they’re spying on his date. They
slowly rose back into their seats and intently watched as Wade inched closer
and closer to Peter, who was staring straight ahead at the big screen. Right as
Wade was about to lean in for a kiss, a bucket of popcorn came mysteriously
flying towards him and hit him in the face.
Wade and Peter turned and looked around but saw nothing
“Huh. That was weird. Are you okay?”, Peter asked.
“Yeah, of course. I wonder who threw that.”
~ ~ ~
Wade and Peter walked arm in arm into the restaurant with
Tony and Steve walking several feet behind them. Peter laughed and talked with
his boyfriend as his parents hid behind their menus a few tables away. Tony
nonchalantly peered over his menu to see the boys as they talked and laughed
while Steve worked on constructing a menu fort on the table.
They sat like this for quite some time, watching the boys
and repeatedly asking the waiter for more time to look at the menu and water
refills. The waiter arrived with Wade and Peter’s food and Tony groaned to see
that they were sharing a plate of spaghetti.
“It’s like that kids movie with the dogs,” Steve murmured,
excited to be able to make a movie reference that Tony would get.
“I would tell you to be more specific because
dog-themed-kids-movies is probably its own genre at this point, but yes. It is like that kids movie with the dogs.”
“Oh, uh… you’ve got a little something right there. On your
lip,” Wade chuckled as he motioned to his own face.
Peter blushed slightly and tried to wipe it off, “Better?”
“No, other side. Here, lemme just…” Wade leaned across the
table and gently wiped some sauce off of Peter’s bottom lip. He couldn’t help
but smile as he looked into Peter’s eyes and let his hand rise to caress his
cheek. Wade’s voice fell to a low whisper, “There. Perfect as usual.”
Peter’s heart skipped a beat as Wade started to lean in
closer. What if he had garlic breath? What if he still had spaghetti sauce on
his lips? What if Wade thinks he’s a horrible kisser and he pretends not to
notice but he never calls again and when he drops him off later it will be the
last time he ever sees him and oh my god-
Suddenly some man in a headscarf dramatically bumped into a
waiter carrying a tray of drinks that toppled over onto Peter and Wade.
~ ~ ~
Tony and Steve were rushing to get home before Wade and
Peter did and realized that they had been gone this whole time. They got into
the house just in time to see Wade’s car pull up from the window.
“Okay, they’re home.” Steve let out a sigh of relief. “They
aren’t going to do anything sexual, everything is going to be okay.”
“Unless they decide to have a quickie in the backseat,” Tony
said before taking a sip of his now cold coffee.
“…unless they WHAT?!”
“I had a really great time tonight, thanks for taking me
out,” Peter said as he smiled shyly at Wade from the passenger seat.
“Yeah, no, totally, thanks for coming. Everything’s always
more fun when you’re around anyways. Here, uh, let me walk you to the door. Don’t
move,” Wade flashed a smile at his new boyfriend and ran around to open his car
door for him.
They slowly walked in silence up to the front door and
turned to face each other.
“Sooo… I’ll call you later. When I get home, if you want,”
Wade glanced down and shuffled his feet a bit.
“Yeah, uh, I’d like that. You know, if you want to. But it’s
almost curfew so I should probably head inside.”
“Oh, yeah, okay. So, uhh. Goodnight,” Wade turned around and
started heading back towards his car.
He immediately spun around, “Yeah, Pete?”
Peter took a few steps forward, grabbed the collar of Wade’s
t-shirt and smashed his lips into his boyfriend’s. Wade stood stunned for a
second before melting into it and placing one hand on Peter’s neck and the
other on his cheek. They finally broke apart and Peter took a few steps
backwards towards the front door. He opened it and stepped inside as Wade stood
with a happy, stunned look on his face.
“Goodnight, Wade”, Peter smiled flirtatiously as he closed
Wade couldn’t wipe the huge smile off his face as he slid
over the hood of his car and hopped back into the driver’s seat. He leaned his
back and just stared at the ceiling for a while, soaking up the best feeling he’s
had in a long time.
~hope y’all aren’t lactose intolerant bc this is CHEESY~
Title: Evening Blue Character: Shaun Murphy A/n: The Good Doctor is gonna get a full season, and I’m ready to write a fuckton of stories for this show because of how happy it makes me feel. I’m also trying to use the doctor jargon, but I can only figure out so much without it becoming ridiculous, so forgive me.
You hazily began to fill out some release forms for one of your patients that had been admitted the night before, you were on call almost the entire time and you didn’t get much sleep because of it.
You felt yourself begin to nod off when your shoulders were abruptly shaken. Your eyes flung open and you turned to see Claire smirking at you.
“Late night?” She asked, placing her clipboard next to yours while she began to flip through her own papers.
You yawned, noticing that your handwriting was beginning to go all over the place. “When is it anything else?”
Claire smiled, reaching behind the counter and sliding a steaming coffee cup over to your side.
You took one glance at it and broke out into fake sobs while you hugged her. “Did I ever mention how much I love and adore you?”
You heard her laugh before you broke away from her, taking off the cup of the coffee to blow at it for a few moments before taking generous sips out of it while you finished the release form.
“Hey, I’m gonna check the OR schedule,” Claire announced after a few mintues of nothing but the sound of pen on paper occupied your space. “We can meet up for lunch though?”
“Sounds good to me, boss,” You said with a mock salute, causing her to smile again. “Try not to kill anyone.”
“I’ll do my best.” She announced, saluting back to you.
You slightly flinched at the abrupt peak in the volume around you and your hand shot up to your head. Turning around you saw Shaun standing there, hands clasped as usual, he had a smile on his face as he walked up to you.
“Good morning, Dr. Murphy.” You said, nursing your coffee in your hands while you turned to fully face him.
“You look terrible.”
You couldn’t help but laugh, you hadn’t been around any mirrors lately, but you could easily imagine how haggard you looked after almost an entire night at the hospital.
“Yeah, I was here late last night. I’m gonna try and fix myself up before my first shift so no one else has to suffer through it.”
“O-Oh, I don’t mean that you look ugly, just very tired is all, you might want to try getting some rest at some point.” He clarified, still smiling.
You blinked, not really know whether he was trying to compliment you or not, so you smiled back. “Well thank you, how are you today?”
“It’s my first full day working here,” He said, bouncing slightly as he spoke. “I also rode the bus.”
You smiled. “Oh yeah? Sounds fun.”
“What was your first day like?”
You huffed at the sudden question, trying to think of exactly what happened, but just as you began to piece an answer, your pager went off.
“A tale for another time,” You said before waving him off. “Good luck, Shaun!”
Shaun waved back, even though you weren’t looking at him anymore. “Thank you.”
“I got to assist in surgery!”
You recognized Shaun’s voice, and you looked up from your patient files to see him bounding towards you from the end of the hall. His hair flopping all over the place when he took each step.
You smiled at the expression on his face, feeling a happy surge of proudness swallow up the current fatigue you were currently trying to ward off with excessive caffeine consumption. “Hey! That’s great!”
He nodded, his eyes flashing to you before they fell onto the window behind you. “It was a little girl, Martine, I sent her home earlier because I was on scutwork and I wasn’t allowed to do much. Nurse Fryday was my boss for today, but Martine had an intestinal malrotation, she was totally unresponsive when I first went to get her but she’s doing fine now. I was only on suction but what matters is that she’s okay now.”
All of this was said very quickly, he stumbled over a few of his words but you were able to get the main idea of his tangent.
“You know, your pretty good at this whole doctor thing.” You mused, noticing his smile broadened as he stood taller.
“I didn’t do much, only suction.” He reminded.
You yawned into your the crook of your arm and leaned against the wall, your eyes shutting momentarily. “Doesn’t matter, you were the one to figure it out. And you were the one who drove out of your way to get her. She’s alive because of you.” Shaun took notice to how your speech had slowed down, and you broke off during the end of your sentences.
There was silence, and you opened your eyes to check on him, only to find Shaun sitting on the ground next to you, leaning close to your face.
“You haven’t gotten any rest, have you?”
You shook your head. “I tried, but there was too much to do and-”
“You should really get some proper sleep tonight, it’s very unhealthy to have multiple restless nights and it could be very potentially dangerous for you-”
“I know,” You said with a chuckle, but it sooned died off when you noticed he still looked concerned. “Hey, don’t worry too much, I’m gonna head out in a couple minutes.” You said, giving his shoulder a small nudge as you propped yourself up. Deciding to save your ‘passing out in an elevator’ story for another time.
“Do you promise?”
“Promise that you will get more rest from now on.”
You smiled, placing your bag around your shoulders before heaving a sigh. “I promise that I will get more rest, as long as you do the same.”
“I already sleep a healthy amount of hours for my age.”
You laughed, pulling your keys from your bag before turning around to face him again. “Do you-” You paused for a moment, wondering if your question would come off as odd before continuing. “-Want a ride home?”
“I’m still in my scrubs.” He pointed out.
“It’s fine, I can wait for you.”
Shaun was now looking at you, something that only happened when he was deep in thought. “That would be very nice of you, thank you.”
You watched him stand up, becoming aware now of how tall he was before you nodded at him. “I’ll meet you out front, okay?”
Shaun nodded back, trying to mask his concern when you yawned again. “Okay.”
not combat rations, thats for sure. ive had enough of those for a lifetime.
but my latest food hit has been pretzel bites. pretzels are an awesome food but rarely available fresh when i want to eat them, which is usually when i’ve woken up in the middle of the night. they’re relatively labor-intensive to make, which is good once the insomnia sets in. keeps me busy. plus, pretzels are sweet on the inside, salty on the outside, just like me. except im also salty on the inside. dont listen to steve.
when i make pretzels, it’s by the metric ton, so the recipe i have makes approximately a million of them.probably you will not want this many, because you don’t have thor or steve to help you eat them. or clint. probably you could just shove some into a vaccum cleaner instead, thatd be about the same. so divide the recipe in half or quarters for normal human consumption. take 11 cups of flour, 1 cup of brown sugar, ½ cup of oil and mix. 4 cups of warm water gets 11 teaspoons of yeast and sits for a bit, then goes in the flour mix. then mix it and let it rise for about an hour. the dough should be sticky to the touch and absolutely awful to get out of your metal fingers. while you wait, wander your living area for some poor sucker to rope into helping you, because stage 2 is easier with help. or you can sit down and wonder why you talk yourself into doing things like this. consider your choices. it’s already too late to go back to sleep; youve got dough rising.
get a deep fry pan or sauce pan and fill with about two inches of water. bring it to a rolling boil on the stove and add in three or so tablespoons of baking soda. you really can’t do too much of that, as long as the water’s not getting super cloudy. preheat the oven to 400 degrees. wake steve up and tell him he has to help.
get a couple egg yolks in a bowl with a basting brush, and find some kosher salt or sea salt. grease up a few pans.
flour a surface and roll the dough out until it’s between ½ and ¼ in thick. get your poor unsuspecting minion to cut out bite sized bits. i use an inch and a half circle cookie cutter, but you can use whatever you want, really. tony used a laser cutter last time i let him help, which was…not ideal.
drop the cut outs into the boiling soda water, and let them sit for a few seconds, then fish them out. you can use your robot hand for that, but again, you’ll be getting dough out of it for days. i let them drip dry on a cookie drying sheet, but you could also drop them on a clean dishtowel i guess. you just dont want them to be wet when you put them on the cookie sheet.
they’re not gonna expand a ton, so just stuff em up close to each other on the sheet. paint the tops with egg yolks and sprinkle with salt. pop em in the oven for 10-15 min or until golden brown.
repeat the boiling-and-baking until you want to die, then keep going until you run out of dough. while the last batch is baking, take a half a stick of butter, a quarter cup of flour and make a roux in a saucepan. add two cups of milk and two cups of cheddar cheese, some salt and pepper to taste, and a quarter cup of mustard, give or take. im showing you how much to use with my hands but you cant see it. sorry, i dont really measure stuff most of the time. heat and stir till it’s melty and amazing, and dip pretzels on in there.
by the time you have completed this process and eaten as many pretzel bites as you want–and there will be enough. it’s a dang big recipe–you will want to enter a food coma and sleep forever. or for 70 years or so.
Summary: You have a huge crush on Peter. You know he doesn’t know French as well as Spanish, so you randomly flirt with him in French. Until Peter catches on.
I try to keep these as gender neutral, I’m sorry. French is very specific with masc. and fem. words, I tried.
(This is my first one, it’s short and sucks, sorry. Btw I am taking French, and I’m terrible at it so I used Google Translate. If you notice something totally off and want me to fix it, please let me know.)
You grabbed your backup, pushing past students towards the cafeteria. Please, walk slower, it’s not like people have places to go, you thought angrily. You pushed open the lunch doors, looking around for your friends. You made eye contact with Peter from across the room, quickly smiling and waving at him. Peter smiled back and waved you over. Butterflies filled your stomach, making your face feel warm. Why is he so amazing?
“Hey Y/N!” Ned cheered when you sat down.
You smiled at Ned, “What’s up guys? Anything new?”
“Well, we have a math test next period. I hope you studied,” Peter answered.
“Of course I did, beau garçon.” You winked in his direction, causing his face to turn a soft shade of pink. Handsome boy
MJ snorted next to you, not even looking up from her book.
“You know, I may not understand French, but one day I’m going to find out what you’re saying.” Peter promised.
You shrugged, laughing. You highly doubt Peter would spend five minutes looking up the words you’ve said. Especially when he spends all of his time at that Stark Internship.
The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. You packed your stuff up, before turning towards the boys, “Au revoir Ned. Au revoir, ma lune.” Goodbye Ned. Goodbye, my moon.
Peter furrowed his eyebrows, watching you walk away with MJ. “Do you know what she said? Isn’t Spanish similar to French?” It drove him nuts not understanding what you’re saying. Sometimes he think you’re flirting with him, but he doesn’t want his hopes to get too high.
Ned shrugged, “Doesn’t May know some French? Ask her.”
Peter faltered his walking for a second, May knows how much he likes you, but does he really want her to be involve with it? “Yeah, okay I’ll ask when I get home.”
The next day, you walked with MJ towards the steps of the school, talking about your science project due next class.
“Whatever, I had it done for two weeks. But the real question is, when are you going to tell Peter you like him?” MJ casually slipped out.
“I already did, like everyday. Not my fault he doesn’t understand me.”
“You know he’s smart, but he’s oblivious. You call him handsome, love, moon, and you told him you loved him in French! He’s also taking Spanish, I don’t understand how he doesn’t get it.”
“Wait, you know French? Since when? You’re not in my class.”
“Maybe I am, you just don’t see me,” she blankly stared ahead, walking faster.
Shaking your head in confusion, you followed her to the doors, walking after her. Spotting Ned and Peter at their lockers, you both walked up to them. When you got closer, they glanced towards you, their conversation quickly stopping.
MJ rolled her eyes, “No please continue your nerdy conversation. We totally care about what you have to say.”
You elbowed MJ lightly, “Tais-toi.” Shut up. You turned towards Peter and Ned, “Salut les gars. J'aime ta chemise, Ned. Peter, tu es très beau comme toujours.” Hi guys. I love your shirt, Ned. Peter, you are handsome as always.
Ned smiled brightly, glancing down at his shirt. While, Peter’s face turned red, he tried to cough to cover up his anxiety. Confused, you panicked for a second. They usually didn’t react, or paid attention to what you say in French.
MJ seemed to get it, though, “Ned, they’re selling ice cream for free at the stand. Let’s go.”
Ned looked at her, “They don’t sell ice cream here.”
“Woah, it’s a miracle. Let’s go.” Dragging Ned away, MJ glared at you like a warning glance.
You turned back to Peter confused, “Um, what was that?”
He was nervously playing with his fingers, blushing a deep red. He glanced up at you, down at his hands, and back up, holding eye contact. “I was curious about the things you’ve been saying to me. So, I asked- I asked May about some of the words you told me.”
He didn’t actually asked May, she barely remembers how to say hello in French. He asked Pepper while he facetime Tony, Pepper being more than happy to help him out. Tony wouldn’t stop teasing him over his crush, but it’s one hundred percent worth it if you felt the same.
Your heart loudly pumped in your chest, he knows I’ve been flirting with him, it’s all over.
“You love saying how handsome I am,” Peter smiled widely at you. You groaned, burying your face in your hands. You were doing so well, why did he have to find out?
“I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d actually look it up. I’ll stop, I was just trying to practice French,” you mumbled, making up some excuse.
“No, please continue. I actually learned something in French, ‘Tu es belle, et j'adorerais être ton petit ami’.” You are beautiful, and I would love to be your boyfriend. That’s what Pepper told me to say, right?
You stared at him for a second in shock, before laughing. His accent clashed with the french language, but you understood what he was saying.
“Je serai ton/ta petit(e) ami(e),” you couldn’t stop smiling, taking a step towards him. I would love to be your boyfriend/girlfriend.
“I’m assuming you said yes in French,” Peter mumbled, leaning towards you, tilting his head slightly. His eyes wide, feeling excited and nervous at the same time.
“Oui,” you whispered, meeting him half way, pressing your lips against his. Yes. Maybe I’ll speak more French to him.
This takes place in a parallel world where humans may or may not exist, but all humanoid mythological creatures we can think of do. Every species lives in their own discrete territories, and aside from trade or war, interaction between all the species is at a minimum.
So that’s Solace, the mermaid king of the pacific ocean. Sol’s personality fluctuates between that of a child and a very old, powerful deity. Sol has always been very lonely because of his status and his power, which his fellow merpeople shun, fear, and yet also hold the utmost respect for. But all he really wishes for is a friend - he’s never really had one. As it is with all merpeople, he loves pretty things, and he’s ridiculously vain and meticulous with his appearance, but he isn’t remotely anything proud or arrogant. He’s a very passionate soul, and can be both extremely gentle and so extremely temperamental that he has caused devastating earthquakes and tsunamis. But mostly he’s gentle.
Rafferty is a knight of the sky, sort of a low-ranking angel. Angels are sort of a militaristic species, so Raffie is very reserved, shy, and can seem emotionally distant to those who don’t know him. Generally, Raffie is very, very gentle. His power is sensing life force and manipulating it to a certain degree; he can heal wounds, speed or slow down the growth of living things, but nothing too extreme. He loves impressing Sol with growing flowers from seemingly out of nowhere. He has rage, too, but it doesn’t manifest as anything as dramatically physical as Sol’s fits - instead, it’s an eternal ember that kills you excruciatingly slowly and painfully if you happen to be the target of his rage.
He would never say exactly how it came to be, but Raffie keeps his eyelids closed all the time, so Raffie is effectively blind. Nobody really knows whether he has damaged eyes, or that he is just no longer allowed to use his otherwise functional eyes, but we know for sure that his sightlessness was the work of a superior angel who was furious with him for falling in love with a mermaid. Blinding was chosen to make sure Sol was punished too.
I’m gonna be drawing my OCs every once a while, depending on my mood, and I hope you’ll come to like these precious beans. :)