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munson-blurbs · 4 months

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Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

Day 9 of TUI-Mas

Warnings: pregnancy, angst, mention of Harris's bio mom, happy ending I swear

WC: 1.5k

September 1999

Another school year is underway, the warm weather slightly chilled with the beginnings of an autumn breeze. The leaves remain on the branches of the oak tree in front of Jeff and Viv’s house, providing a sliver of shade as you walk up the front steps.

The two of you try to get together once in a while for a mom lunch; Eddie usually brings Harris over to play with Ettie while he and Jeff reminisce about the good old days of Hellfire Club and playing pranks on Principal Higgins. Today, however, Harris is at Wayne’s for some “Grampa-Har Bear bonding time,” so you and your husband are on your own.

“You look gorgeous,” Eddie murmurs in your ear as you ring the doorbell, hearing the chime softly echo from within the house. “Wish that wasn’t a maternity dress so you could wear it all the time.”

You roll your eyes at his flirtatiousness, a giggle giving away how tickled you are at the compliment. You truly do feel beautiful in this dress; the skirt swishes around your ankles with each gentle movement like you’re a princess.

Viv opens the door with a smile far too wide for someone who can’t get a cocktail with her entree. “Come on in, head into the kitchen and grab some water. It’s still pretty hot out there.”

“But then I’ll have to pee.” Your unborn son seems to enjoy using your bladder as a makeshift drum set; Eddie has been telling Gareth that he’ll have some competition for the band’s percussionist once the baby arrives. Still, you oblige, trudging towards the overhead cupboard to grab a—

“SURPRISE!”

Your heart leaps at the burst of voices; you bring a palm to your chest. “Wh-What?”

“It’s your baby shower, my love.” Eddie stands behind you and rests his head on your shoulder, hands wrapping around your bump. “To celebrate Baby Munson.”

“Oh, my God.” Tears spring to your eyes and roll down your cheeks in rivulets, no doubt smearing the mascara you’d applied before arriving. You give Viv a squeezing hug—the best you can manage with both of you pregnant—and turn to the group of people in her living room.

Robin and Jess jump up from the sofa to embrace you, and your co-workers whom Viv’s invited follow suit. You get choked up yet again when you spot Max Mayfield next in line to greet you.

“Did you really fly in for this?” you ask incredulously, pulling back to get a better look at her. She’s cut her bright red hair a little shorter so it frames her face and her blue eyes hold the exhaustion from her demanding doctorate program, but she’s still the same Max you know and love.

She nods enthusiastically. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” She leans in and whispers, “I knew you were the one for Eddie from the first time I saw how he looked at you. Like you’re this flower that blooms no matter the weather.”

“Okay, Almost-Doctor of English literature,” you tease her poetic waxing. Jane Hopper shyly steps out from behind her and you hug her as well.

Viv clears her throat to grab the party’s attention. “Thank you all for being here today,” she begins timidly, not used to having all eyes on her. “Since Baby Munson seems to have a major sweet tooth, we’re skipping a formal lunch and going straight to dessert!” Her announcement is met with cheers and she directs the guests towards the abundance of cakes and cookies in the kitchen.

You’re pulled towards the scent of freshly-brewed coffee, still steaming in the carafe. “That one’s decaf,” Viv informs you, pointing to the pot on the left hand side. You pick it up, careful not to burn your knuckles on the hot glass, and tilt it into a paper cup with Showers of Love for Baby Munson stamped on the side.

“Should you be drinking coffee?” Genuine concern seeps from Eddie’s words. “I mean, is it safe for the baby?” Before you can respond, he’s taking the cup from your grasp and placing it on the kitchen counter.

You furrow your brows, the tiniest disbelieving laugh escaping your lips. There’s no way he’s serious, right?

“Eds, it’s decaf,” you reassure him, still unsure of his intentions. “Besides, having a little bit of coffee isn’t going to hurt the baby.” You reach for the cup, but he just pushes it back farther from you.

His jaw steels, carefully mulling over his words despite his building frustration towards your dismissiveness. “Right, but it still contains trace amounts of caffeine. And it could stunt his growth and lead to, like, brain development issues.”

“Look,” you seeth, a hushed tone poorly masking your raging hormones, “I don’t need you hovering over me, okay? Do you not trust me or something?”

“I do. I do trust you.” But there’s a telltale pause beforehand that makes you believe otherwise. He notices your small step back, a dagger dangling just above your heart. “Sweetheart, it’s–”

You walk away with a shake of your head, determined to enjoy your baby shower. Eddie is a protective person–it’s one of his qualities that you most admire–but this errs on the side of controlling.

Dutifully, you sit down on your chair at the head of the Reynolds’ living room, digging into a slice of vanilla sponge cake and easing back into the upbeat atmosphere. You unwrap boxes of cartoon-stamped shirts and onesies, the tiniest clothing articles you’ve ever seen. Max has even managed to find a pajama set with the outline of an electric guitar stitched on the front. Your lap overflows with bottles, crib sheets, and pacifiers while Eddie hangs back in the kitchen.

“This last one is just a little something we all chipped in for,” Jess announces, excitedly thrusting a small envelope in your direction. You tuck your thumb under the seal and open it, revealing a gift card to Enzo’s.

“For your first date night after Baby Munson’s arrival,” Viv chimes in, her fingers curling around her own coffee cup. “Jeff and I will babysit,” she offers kindly. “It’s important to keep the romance alive.”

Robin scoffs from her corner of the sofa. “Yeah, like these two will have a problem with that.” She playfully rolls her eyes. “If you look up ‘lovesick’ in the dictionary, you’ll find their pictures.”

Your cheeks burn with embarrassment’s heat as everyone else agrees with her. From the corner of your eye, you see Eddie pouring a fresh cup of decaffeinated coffee and preparing it just as you like it. He shuffles into the room, his empty hand shoved into his front pocket. The brush of his lips on your scalp is an apology, a sentiment you both echo and accept with a squeeze of his forearm.

“See?” Robin continues with a teasing grin. “Absolutely sickening.”

“Thank you guys,” Eddie says, resting his palms on your shoulder as you take a sip of coffee. “For the gift card, for the shower, for always supporting us.”

You place your hand on your bump and nod. “Baby Munson is already feeling the love,” you agree. As if emphasizing your point, he softly kicks within your womb in a heartbeat-esque flutter.

The car ride home is quiet but not uncomfortable, you and Eddie unwinding after the eventful day. Angus Young croons in the background as Eddie speaks.

“I trust you.” His fingers hover over your thigh, hesitant to touch you if you’re still angry with him. “And I know you’re not…I know this isn’t like with Harris…” He stumbles over his words, trying not to offend you while still making a point.

“Eds.” You hold his hand in yours, eyes shiny with understanding. The unconditional love you have for Harris, the ease with which he calls you ‘Mommy,’ often has you forgetting that you’re not his biological mother. “I’ll never, ever do anything to hurt our children. I feel bad enough when I accidentally step on Harris’s toes.” You lean over and kiss his cheek, leaving a remnant of lipstick on his stubble. “Decaf coffee, in moderation, is fine during pregnancy.”

Eddie lets go of you to rub the swell of your stomach. “Little man’s not gonna be doing backflips in there?” he asks with a mischievous grin, the tension between you dissipating.

You laugh and shake your head. “Nope, just doing his best Pelé impression,” you say with a wince as the baby kicks again.

He notices when you stifle a yawn moments later. “I’ll wake you when we get home,” he promises, lowering the radio so you can rest.

You’re lulled to sleep as he drives, hearing him hum along with the music under his breath. Since your eyes are closed, you don’t catch the way he looks over at you and smiles.

“Love you, sweet girl,” he whispers, bringing his attention back to the road but keeping his thoughts trained on the woman he loves.

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #tui

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divergent-paths · 18 days

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HBD Max~! One week following Alex, it's time for more Max bday trivia~!

While he's not as voracious as his brother, Max is by no means a picky eater, and unlike many kiddos, he actually likes eating his veges. With the help of his 'mons, he's also learning how to forage for wild veges and herbs to add to his meals.

Before coming to Galar, he was indeed on his school's soccer/football team, but he's also a big fan of ice hockey after Grampa took him to see a match. The stadium atmosphere was something he hadn't experienced before and he was instantly hooked on sports because of that.

His favourite Pokémon is Sawsbuck, and of the four forms his favourite is the Winter Form.

Hope you enjoyed these tidbits about our resident sports boy~!

#cmax #character birthday #ball guy #i unironically love ball guy and think he's great #carameldansen #i spent WAY too long on this lmao

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beelze-the-bubkiss · 4 months

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So I've had this head cannon for a while and I'd like to know what y'all think.

What if Max was unknowingly obsessed with the Emerson family for generations?

What if Max meet a young boy in the 1910s. He very quickly grew a soft spot for the boy (who was like 7-10 in age) and wanted to make the boy a part of his family, but not wanting to turn someone that young he decided to wait until the boy was in his later teens. He wanted the boy to be at least 16. But after 4 years the boys family moved and with no information other than the boys first name he could not be found.

Its because of this boy that when the boys decided they wanted to keep Laddie he made them turn him immediately so he couldn't get away.

Many years later the boys and Max come back to Santa Carla, and meet the Emerson's. What they don't realize is they are recognized immediately, by an old man who was once a young boy Max was obsessed with. That young boy would grow up to be Grampa Emerson.

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jamsofdeath0 · 3 months

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currently watching omniverse. Its fascinating Albedo has finally gotten the ability to use his true form and yet still uses bens. Hes taunting Max as ben. even called him "grampa". Earlier he led Ben into a trap running with bens form. He could be anything and yet he chose human form. Why? bc they could recognize him as it and ben would follow? bc he can run fast and well in it? bc hes used to it?

#ben 10 omniverse #ben 10 #ben 10 albedo

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radioactive-earthshine · 5 months

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Relationships: Bart Allen/Kon-El | Conner Kent

Summary:

No suicide missions. No acceptable casualties. They were going to live.

Sample:

Thad didn’t have to wait long for Max and Helen to eventually decide that they needed to do something and they left together.

Shopping. Groceries. Something of normalcy to bring into tragedy while his brother struggled to refrain from exploding in rage and grief.

Thad didn’t spend all those months studying Bart and his mannerisms without coming to an understanding of how his emotions worked and he found that he could predict with near perfect accuracy how he was feeling at any given moment.

Sometimes, Bart surprised him.

The door to their room opened with a very slight squeak and Thad was awed to find the lights on and Bart furiously typing on a laptop, fully suited as Impulse.

oh nass, Thad thought. “you really don’t want max to see you suited up, the doctor’s orders were pretty clear about your recovery.”

“Bed rest. I know. I’m done with that,” mumbled Bart.

“uh huh.” Thad strolled and stood next to him, his eyes landing the laptop screen where they widened. “you got into the league systems?!”

“Grampa’s creds,” Bart deadpanned. “They never inactivated them when he died.” Click click click click.

“how the fuck do you know barry’s password?”

The question made Bart pause momentarily in his furious navigation and he looked at his brother. “Oh, he wrote his League password on a piece of paper, and put it in an old comic. Wally gave me the comic and didn’t know the paper was in there…” They looked at each other for exactly three seconds, then he turned back to the computer and began working again. “It’s haliriswally56, by the way.”

Thad refrained from insulting their dead grandfather out loud but he still thought the insult anyway. idiot. “anyone could have guessed that.”

“Ngn,” Bart grunted. Bart was not a grunter or a mumbler and Thad frowned.

“hey, what are you doing?”

“Hacking the League systems.”

“i can see that, but why?” Bart hated having his tasks interrupted, unless it involved food, but Thad persisted. “what are you looking for in the league systems, and don’t tell me ‘league information', i can see that, idiot.” Bart was starting to get agitated with the questioning, finally a predictable reaction.

It was clear Thad was impossible to escape and Bart finally gave him a direct answer. “I’m trying to find the location of a Mother Box on Earth.”

Thad already knew why he was looking for one, he didn’t need to ask. Instead he just looked at him. “that’s insane, even for you.” The comment made Bart’s lips twitch into the first smile he had since the night he almost died.

“Impulsive, maybe?”

“reckless, stupid, and moronic!” Thad argued and he knew it was going to push buttons.

#konbart #bartkon #superpulse #bart allen #kon el #kon-el #conner kent #thad thawne #thaddeus thawne #impulse #inertia #superboy #dc comics #fanfiction #one more chapter to go

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andyetnobananas · 2 years

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Ok, so you know that whole "HBO Max killing off cartoons" thing that happened recently? So after some digging (and by that I mean watching this video from Shark3ozero) the situation is so much worse than that. Like... Monstrously worse.

In case you don't know, it's not just cartoons and their creators that have been f__ked over recently, but a WHOLE SWATH OF PoC CREATORS HAVE BEEN LAID OFF. Like, almost no non-whites left in executive positions.

Apparently, before the merger, Discovery has a more white, old, heteronormative demographic than HBO, and instead of trying to consolidate the 2 demographics, Discovery's CEO, David Zaslav, has been made into the CEO of both sides of the company, and is trying to turn one into the other. To this end, he has slashed the divisions overseeing kids, family and international content, and intends to create more content for "Middle America." So yes, they cut Infinity Train and Batgirl and others BECAUSE. THEY. ARE. DIVERSE. CONTENT. They are deliberately removing different cultures from their services because catering exclusively to white audiences is more profitable... According to them. I have serious doubts this is casting the net wider instead of narrower. (Also, another part of the shift is that they want to pivot back to cable content and away from streaming, which... Lol, good luck man. Warn-scover-CNBO might already be on a collision course, and fingers crossed that it is.)

OH, BUT IT GETS WORSE. APOCALYPTICLY WORSE.

HBO also owns CNN, and they have a new chairman in the shadow of the merger, Chris Licht. It's already canned one news show, 'Reliable Programming' a show frequently critiqued the republicans and fox news, and has warned that "more changes are coming soon."

Worst of all, John Malone, who is on WBD's board, and gave Zaslav his job in 2006, has explicitly said that he wants to CNN to have a "less liberal bias", and thinks that Fox News "makes actual journalism." Yes, Fox dominating a third of US cable news is not enough, he wants to make another 3rd of it propaganda programming.

Warn-scover-CNBO's market capitol were flushed down the tubes in light of all this horses__t, but in order to keep the a new propaganda apparatus of unfathomable scale from rising, it must stay down and never recover. Warn-scover-CNBO's changes scaring off huge droves of people is an objective good, and the complete collapse of the company is our only hope now.

Tl;dr: The death of Infinity Train and Uncle Grampa is the canary in the coal mine of a massive swath of pop culture and journalistic practice turning into a right-wing propaganda apparatus unlike anything seen before.

#hbo max #infinity train #cartoons #cartoon network #animation #warner bros discovery #wb discovery #cnn

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bwoahtastic · 1 year

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Plsss Lewis getting dan whose whimpering after his momma. Maybe they go to the store to get the bubba some teddys and stuff and run into max? Or maybe jos for extra angst and Dan is just shaking whispering to Lewis begging him not to give him to grampa. If momma left him grampa would do something even worse

Even tho Lewis is someone new in dans life he trusts him infinity more than jos

Plss Dan likes Lewis good enough but is still whimpering for momma a lot and starts crying when Lewis doesn't find momma!

Lewis taking Dan to the stores for some toys and essentials and the little toddler keeps looking around but Lewis can see the pup isn't really looking at toys and doesn't even have to ask what Dan is really looking for...

Dan suddenly tensing up when he sees Jos and maybe Max is with Jos? Max pleading jos to tell him where they took Dan and what happen3d because he had been away ans how could jos tell the police that Max abused Dan too! Max would never!

Dan crying out for momma and Max instantly comes sprinting over but Jos follows too. Lewis not really understanding what is happening but getting between jos and Max, who is now fussing over little Dan in the cart while crying and apologising to the pupsie! Lewis ushering Max snd Dan out of the store and they sit in the car with Jos yelling at them through the windows as Lewis phones the police!

The court being hesitant to give Max full custody because he barely has anything, not even a pack to protect and support him but Lewis agrees to take Max into the pack and keep an eye on both!

#asks #single momma au

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skz-with-stay · 2 years

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dad!changbin head canon; 2

snow day

warnings: mentions of food/drinks. if there’s any more, please let me know asap.

style: fluff, dad!changbin, changbin x reader (afab)

word count: 982

lets go!

outside, snow is planted onto the windowsill; inside, cold fog on the window. today is december 28th, which is the day that was selected and planned by your husband and his mother; for a day to spend with his family. vienna (daughter) was extremely excited to go, this is because she loves snow and her grandparents.

“you know who we get to see today, vi?” changbin says with a smile on his face.

“GRAMMA AND GRAMPA!!!” she yells loudly, jumping up and back down, giving off a gummy smile.

“mhm, you’re right! gramma and grampa are very excited to see you today” he says to her.

changbin gathers all of her snow gear, plopping it down by her. then gathers his own show gear and set it next to the pile he had made beforehand.

“okay baby, what do we put on first?” he asks.

she thinks as hard as her 3 year old brain could think. she gives an answer.

“snow pants” she says confidently.

“good job!” he says.

he goes to help her get her snow pants on but he’s quickly stopped.

“i wanna do it” she snaps cutely

putting his hands up in defeat, he backs away and lets her do it herself. he puts on his snow pants and is about to zip up his zipper, but he is stopped again.

“let me help you” vienna says.

once zipped up, he asks again.

“thank you, sweety… what do we put on now?”

he does this until all of their snow gear is on and snug.

“daddy, i’m hot” she pouts, cheeks flushed.

“i know baby, we will leave in a second, i just gotta see if mommy is done helping your brother”

he makes his way up the stairs to your guys’ shared bedroom, where you are with your son. he knocks on the door.

“vi and i are ready to go” he peeks in, seeing your guys’ 11 month old son all bundled up.

“we are too” you say as you place him on your hip. you’re bundled up as well.

“let’s go!” he says, placing a kiss on your forehead before leading the way down the stairs.

=•=•=•=•=•=•=

the 4 of you arrive at the park. vienna’s eyes light up when she sees the hill covered in snow. her focus then centers at the sight of gramma seo. a smile spreads on her face, and she kicks her feet in excitement.

“GRAMMAAAAAAAAAAA” is heard from inside of the car.

gramma seo chuckled. you two wave at each other before you get your daughter out of her car seat. vienna nearly sprints out of your arms to go see her gramma.

“please walk vi, it’s icy” you say

vienna begins to waddle across the icy path. she makes it into her gramma’s arms, giving a big hug.

you go to get your son out of his car seat but changbin is already on it.

“i got max, you can go ahead” he says.

a few minutes go by and grampa seo, daddy seo and little baby seo meet gramma seo, mommy seo and big baby seo. hugs and greetings are exchanged and now the real fun can begin.

changbin goes back to the car and comes back with sleds, and snow molds.

“gramma can you sled with me?” vienna says so heartwarmingly.

changbin hesitates, he doesn’t want his mom or his daughter getting hurt.

“of course, pumpkin” gma seo says.

they slide successfully down the hill, earning a laugh from the two of them.

gpa seo and you play with baby max and the snow molds, making a snow castle.

changbin claps at his mom and daughter, nonverbally congratulating the successful landing.

an hour and a half go by and the 6 of you go to a coffee shop. the kids split a hot cocoa and a piece of cake. gma and gpa seo split a piece of coffee cake, and have separate coffees, same with you and changbin.

“we missed you so much, we haven’t seen you in a few months!” gpa seo says to the 4 of you.

“we missed you too!” you say back.

“yeah and i missed you thiiiiiiiiiis much” vienna spreads her arms out as much as she could.

“oh yeah? well i missed you thiiiiiiiiis much” gpa seo imitates vienna’s arms, obviously a larger span than hers. vi’s jaw drops and then she giggles.

smiles appear on all of your faces.

another hour passes by, both kids are asleep, vienna in changbin’s lap and max in gpa’s lap.

“i think it is about that time where we get going” changbin says quietly, not to wake up the sleeping beauty on his lap.

heads shake ‘yes’ as everyone gets up slowly. both vienna and max jerk slightly but are still asleep. gpa hands max over to you. you all make your way to the cars.

goodbyes and hugs were given.

“see you again soon” you say

“yes! soon!” gma says.

a tiring day is at an end. the time from the coffee shop to your house is over half an hour. you swear you just closed your eyes, next thing you know, your eyes grow heavy and you drift off into a peaceful sleep.

changbin noticed right away and tries his best not to hit any pot holes or bumps.

you’re finally home, but still asleep and so are your children. he grabs max first, putting him in his crib, taking off his gear. then vienna, putting her in her bed and doing the same. then you, putting your arm over his shoulder and picking you up bridal style. he sets you on your guys’ bed and takes off your snow gear. now gets himself undressed from the heavy snow gear.

vienna cries loudly, now awake, you wake up to coo her back to slumber but you’re stopped.

“i got it, lay back down” changbin says sweetly.

#skz #changbin headcanons #dad!skz #skz dad imagine #skz headcanons #skz imagine #skz imagines #dad!changbin

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torturedpoetemotions · 8 months

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A little fic where Dean Jr. grows up with his hunter mom after she divorces his dad. Inspired by this post by @shallowseeker.

Read on AO3

His mom and dad split when he was fourteen.

Well, that's when they made it official, anyway. The cracks were there long before his mom finally got fed up and left, tired of trying to get past his dad's wall of "everything's-normal" to reach the man she married. He first started to notice when he was eight or nine, old enough that the suddenly halted conversations and the sadness in his mother's eyes didn't quite make it over his head anymore.

By the time she gave up trying to salvage something real with his dad, he was old enough to pick who to live with, and though they never forced that choice on him, he made it anyway. His dad didn't even flinch when he told him he wanted to live with Mom. Like the walls he'd built up were too thick for the sharp edges of his son's abandonment to reach him. He wonders sometimes, if his father had been less stoic, would they have walked out the door after all?

They left on a sunny day in July, everything packed haphazardly into his mom's truck. His dad's hug goodbye felt perfunctory, like he'd already accepted that they were gone. Like he knew even then it would be a long time before they saw each other again, and didn't care.

Dean tried to hide his tears, but his mom reached over and squeezed his hand.

"It's okay to cry," she told him as she maneuvered out of the driveway. He wiped his eyes impatiently and signed, turning in the seat so she could see him easily in her periphery.

"I know. Don't want to." The sullenness of the statement must have translated even with one eye on the road, because she chuckled at him. That sound--her laugh, which he rarely got to hear anymore--made him smile for the first time all day. He wondered what life would be like, without the ghosts his father refused to confront hanging over them all the time.

---

For his fifteenth birthday, he got a name change. The divorce papers came through the month before, his dad's messy signature applied without even a token protest. His mom became Eileen Leahy again and he became Dean Leahy right along with her. That other last name, he didn't want it. Too many ghosts attached, dragging it down. Too many people he came across who did a double-take when he said it out loud.

Not his mom's close friends, of course. They spoke of the other Dean very little, and with a lingering sadness that made him feel sad too, missing someone he never even got to meet. He knew the story, of course. Told to him by his mom, not his dad. His dad buried Dean Winchester like he buried everything else: alone, and in perfect silence.

Nobody ever did a double take upon hearing the name Dean Leahy, though. Occasionally the mention of his first name without the anvil of his last did prompt stories, reminiscence from near strangers. Dean? They say, in that way that means dredging up an old memory.

I knew a hunter named Dean. Years ago now. He was a damn fine hunter, they say almost without exception.

He was a damn good man, they say less often, but the ones who do mean it. Raise their glasses in a toast to a man who's been dead longer than he's been alive. The man who gave him half his name.

His mom's friends and acquaintances were an odd, scarred, rowdy bunch. He called them all aunt and uncle, grandma and grandpa, cousin...based on age more than anything, because that's what you do when your family is bigger than your bloodline and the branches are all muddled by time and distance. There was Aunt Claire and Aunt Kaia, Grampa Garth and Nana Bess. Grandma Jody and Aunt Donna, who refused to be called Grandma by anyone. Aunt Patience and Aunt Alex, Uncle Max, and more and more and more. All these people who knew his mom, or knew of her, from before he was born, and welcomed her back with open arms everywhere they went. He didn't want for family growing up, or for stories.

He knew what his mom did could be dangerous, but it never kept him awake at night. He never had nightmares about fire or screaming. He never imagined himself dying in a pool of his own blood. Hunting was just his mom's job, the way other kids' parents might be firefighters or oil rig workers. He had a warm bed to sleep in and food in his belly and friends at school, and instructions on what to do in an emergency, how to check if someone who said she sent them was lying. Like most kids. He never saw her come home bruised or bloody. She never spent more than two nights away from home in a row, and he was never alone when she was gone. He didn't think to wonder until years later how she managed it, because it was just normal. His mom was a hunter, and he got to be a kid. Two things can be true at once.

Nobody ever asked him when he was going to start hunting, because no one expected that of him. They asked him how he did on his math test, or what his favorite subject was, or whether he played any sports. He did okay, and he liked history, and he hated sports. He didn't mind running through the woods with his cousins or working in Aunt Donna's garden, but throwing a ball around felt pointless and wasn't even fun. He liked to read, and sketch, and paint. His mom had a collection of his drawings in a big book on one of the living room shelves.

---

The day after his high school graduation he takes the rust-bucket van Grandma Jody gave him on his sixteenth birthday and heads out onto the road. He has a phone full of numbers to call in an emergency and no set destination. His mom, tiny to him now but still the strongest person he'll ever know, makes him lean down so she can kiss him on his forehead before he leaves. She reminds him to check in every few days, and he promises he will.

Once he's on the road he finds himself heading down US 29, drawn southward despite no map and no plans. He told himself he wouldn't, but he wants to see it. He wants to see the place where so many fantastical stories from his family's shrouded past played out.

It's a six-hour drive from Sioux Falls, South Dakota to Lebanon, Kansas. Nearly seven in his beat-up old van, its many repairs notwithstanding. The sun is low in the summer sky by the time he reaches his destination. Lower still, sinking below the horizon by the time he gathers his courage to get out and explore.

The key works, though the door seems reluctant to open. Stale air greets him, too long underground being cycled through the same pipes. The interior is dark and silent as he descends the stairs by feel alone, the ringing kind of silence that makes every breath and footfall seem louder than a shout.

When he finally finds the lights he has to squint against their sickly yellow-orange glow. He holds his breath. Nothing stirs as the darkness is chased away, so he lets himself relax, just a little, and look around.

There's a map table like something out of an old movie in the entryway. He only lingers for a moment before he's drawn to the warmer glow of the room beyond. It's a library, and the sight and smell of so many old books draws him in immediately. The polished wood of the tables, the golden light of the lamps...he could live in this room. It feels like something out of a dream.

And there on the center table, at the end nearest him, there are letters carved roughly into the wood. He steps closer, stares down at them. Lets his fingers trace the lines, darkened by time and dust.

DW. SW. MW. Castiel. Jack.

SW...his father. DW...the uncle he's named after. MW...he searches his memory until he recalls his grandmother's name was Mary. Castiel and Jack are names he's only heard in passing. Always spoken with sadness. Once or twice, whispered as if in prayer. But no one has told him their stories, these people so important that their names are carved next to his father's when his mother's isn't. He's never liked to pry into the old wounds of his family history with his mother, and it simply did no good with his father. But now he makes a mental note to ask about Jack and Castiel the next time they talk. He wants to know.

For now, he moves on.

Down one hallway he finds a kitchen, grimy with long years of disuse. Past that, long hallways lined with doors, most of which seem to open onto empty bedrooms or storage rooms.

One door won't open at all. It seems almost welded shut. All he can see through the tiny window is a dusty storage room and a giant devil's trap on the floor. Another door leads not to storage or a bedroom, but to some sort of den. There are comfortable-looking, if dusty, chairs. A small couch, only big enough for two if they sat close. A foosball table along the back wall. Shelves full of movies and music in formats he's only seen at his grandparents' houses. A large, if somewhat ancient, television that probably wouldn't turn on for love or money. Beer and movie posters on the brick walls, a rug on the floor, a table laden with ancient, unopened beer bottles. Someone's attempt to make a home out of this underground barracks. Dean lingers over the shelf of DVDs, old westerns and cheesy sci-fi movies from before his parents' time. He laughs to see that some of his favorites are here.

The bedrooms are less interesting, mostly empty of any personal effects and covered in a thick layer of dust. Only a couple seem to have been inhabited in the last hundred years, and then only sparse traces of their former inhabitants remain. Dean wonders which one of these rooms belonged to his father. He tries to imagine what he was like back then, the man his mother fell in love with. The kind of person who could lead people, who would fight for the world.

Finally he comes to a room that has real personality. Granted, whoever lived there must have been a barely-functional alcoholic, judging from the number of empties tossed haphazardly in and around the unlined metal trash can. The desk on one wall has a lamp like the ones in the library, a crumpled flannel tossed over the chair, and not much else. He opens the closet in the corner and sneezes at the unsettled dust. Nothing remarkable, just a lot of faded flannels and a green army jacket with a faded stain on one shoulder.

There's a shelf above the bed with an odd assortment of books, trinkets, and weapons. Books on angels and the afterlife, books on cosmic powers and primordial darkness. Possibly everything ever written by Kurt Vonnegut. A couple of books of poetry. Ginsburg, Bukowski. They spill over onto the night stand, along with a couple more empty bottles of booze.

He sits down at the desk, the chair creaking ominously under his weight. This room feels like the den. Like someone really tried to make this place their home. He opens the drawer, feeling like he's invading someone's privacy even though he knows no one has been here since before he was born.

There's surprisingly little there compared to the rest of the room: a lockbox with a busted lock, a few old leather-bound journals. He opens one and finds that it's some kind of log of supernatural creatures. He's heard of a few of the ones listed, listening to his mom and aunts talk shop over the years. Others, he's never heard of. But then again, hunters barely go after monsters anymore. There are so many ways for them to survive without killing anyone, it's rarely needed. And when it is, the monster communities typically take care of their own. Nobody wants the kind of attention a bunch of missing civilians tends to draw. Hunters are mostly called in for exorcisms and salt-n-burns, nowadays. Relocations for displaced packs and covens as the human world becomes ever more inhospitable to anyone different. The odd curse-breaking, if no witch is available to help. That kind of thing.

But he knows it wasn't always this way, and this book is from another time. When hunters and monsters were at each other's throats. He flips through the book with only idle interest. There are several different people's handwriting, and varying levels of artistic ability. Some of the earlier entries are in a script so full of flourishes it's difficult for him to read. The later ones are thankfully more plain, if a little messier.

A name catches his eye, and he turns back one page.

Castiel, it reads. Angel of the Lord.

One of the names on the table, and here it is in this book of supernatural beings. The handwriting is sharp but legible, but what takes up most of both pages is the illustration. It's of a man, or sort of a man, angular features and eyes that seem tired even rendered in ink. There's a dignity and ferocity to the figure, something clearly meant to inspire awe in the viewer. And not just because of the pair of massive, midnight-colored wings extending from his back.

Dean stares at the picture, trying to imagine his dad ever knowing someone this cool. It's impossible to picture.

The accompanying text is similarly striking, a description of a beloved friend and comrade-in-arms, rather than a hunted monster. He wonders who wrote this. Who this angel was so important to that he had to be immortalized in ink and wood.

When he moves on to the next leather volume, he finds his answer.

---

It's a diary.

More specifically, it's the diary of his long-departed uncle, Dean Winchester.

Dean traces his fingers over the letters of his own name, hands shaking a little. Does he want to know?

Of course he does.

He turns the page and starts to read.

And as he loses himself in the pages, hungry for all the details of this man whose name he carries, the ones his father denied him growing up, he becomes certain of two things exactly.

One, Dean Winchester was far bigger on the inside than any of the stories he'd ever heard could possibly tell.

Two, he was a man going slowly mad with grieving.

It's nothing on the surface. If anything, it's in what isn't said. As if even in this book he never expected anyone to read, Dean Winchester could not tell the truth about his wants and needs. But Dean reads them between the lines of his ragged handwriting.

He wanted to be safe. He wanted to be free. He wanted the angel Castiel to stay with him.

He never asked him to stay.

The journal may be one of many, for it starts, bizarrely, with Castiel coming back from the grave. "Cas is back," written in big bold letters, taking up the entire page. On the next page there's a brief explanation followed by an outpouring of guilt about his treatment of Jack--the other name on the table--and excitement about a hunt that somehow involved Wyatt Earp. The events and emotions are so mingled together he can't tell where one ends and another begins, as if the man writing was trying to record every detail as fast as he could think them, leaving nothing out.

Pages of that, sometimes daily, sometimes skipping weeks. But every entry mentions Castiel, or as the other Dean, Uncle Dean, calls him: Cas. Cas did this, Cas disagreed, Cas is pissed, Cas said something hiliarious, Cas hasn't checked in for a few days. The writer's mood shifts palpably when Cas isn't around, the language terse and the handwriting pointed and angry.

There are updates about Jack and Sam as well, and Dean reads those with interest, trying to reconcile the Sam described in the pages with the father he knows. It doesn't quite fit.

He sits for what must be hours but feels like no time at all, reading the thoughts of this man who loved people so much and could tell them so little. Toward the end there's a shift--a desperation creeping into the tone, a shakiness to the writing. Mentions of someone named Chuck and the end of the world. All through the lens of this other Dean and his love--frustration, anger, sometimes, but always love--for his family. And for Cas.

And then, on the very last page, it just...ends.

Two lines, the ink and paper warped and bled and water-stained. Two lines:

He's gone. He saved me. I didn't give him anything.

I should have said it back. I wanted to say it back.

---

He doesn't read the third journal for a long time. The ending to the second one haunted him enough on its own, the final written words of someone with deep regrets that could never be set right.

Dean puts the journals back where they were, leaves the tin lockbox unopened for the time being. He finishes exploring, and then he locks up the bunker and goes on the rest of his road trip. He sees new places, visits friends and family, learns a thing or two about the world. And eventually, he comes back.

The rooms are as silent and empty as when he last left them, albeit with a thicker layer of dust. But this time he comes bearing cleaning supplies and helping hands, and before long he and his cousins have all those old wood surfaces gleaming again.

"What d'you plan to do with this place, anyway?" They all want to know. He isn't sure yet. He just knows it's a waste, all these books molding and crumbling underground, all these well-warded rooms sitting empty when they could be put to use.

Their first use is a place for everyone to crash for the night after cleaning for six hours straight. Their second and third uses will come later, as the shadow of an idea takes firmer shape in Dean's mind over time. A crash pad for hunters and monsters down on their luck, or needing a place to hunker down for a rough moon or a human blood detox or whatever else. One day, a place where curse boxes could be stored in relative safety, and without the threat of thieves or unfortunate looky-loos stumbling their way into really bad luck.

Somewhere safe, where children with nightmares full of fire and screams can fall asleep without fear. Somewhere generations of hunters and supernaturals will learn to think of as a haven. A home. Somewhere for the ragged underground armies of good to gather, should a new threat ever arise.

And a place with its history carved in wood and ink. Thoughts spilled in late-night talks over cooling cups of coffee and hearts unburdened over warming tumblers of whiskey.

And countless names of friends and family carved into the table.

#supernatural #spn fic #15x20 compliant just this one time #dean jr #fanfiction #my writing

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azikarue · 11 months

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Mayblade 2023 : Day 14 : Sorcery

Ryu Granger, Tyson, Bladebreakers | FFN Rating: T | FFN Link ❖ It put a smile on Ryu’s face to hear his grandson outside jiving with his friends. It had been too long since he’d stood in the kitchen and listened to the whole team bicker and battle and bond.

Ever since the gang had touched down in Japan, they’d been training morning, noon, and night in preparation for the upcoming World Championships. They barely even stopped for meals – Tyson and Daichi were remarkably chill about it.

That, and the fact that every single one of them were way taller than he remembered, made it feel like they were growing up right before his eyes.

Ryu was drying his hands on a dish towel when Tyson toed off his shoes and crossed the threshold into the dojo.

“Smells good, Grampa!” he said, nodding to the stove where dinner was simmering away. He grabbed half a dozen bottles of water out of the fridge, then set them aside so he could crack one open for himself. “Can’t wait to eat. Daichi’s stomach’s been growling for half an hour now.”

His voice turned sarcastic toward the end and Ryu smiled fondly.

“Any of your friends stayin’ for dinner, T-Dawg?” He knew the answer already. Some nights Hilary, Kenny, or Max would go home, but more often than not, they all stayed until it was too late to do anything other than collapse onto the training room floor.

“Yeah, I think everybody is.” Tyson took a drink of water and wiped his mouth on his wrist. “Oh, except Max,” he added. “He has to go back to the dentist. Lucky guy gets to leave before Hilary’s last set of death drills.”

Ryu raised an eyebrow.

It had only been a few weeks since the Bladebreakers were back to training as a team and Max had left practice early three times. This would be number four and something, probably the rehashed excuse, seemed fishy. There were only so many reasons boys Max’s age skipped out on their responsibilities and since he wasn’t usually the kinda kid to skive off…

“Everything okay with the little dude?” he asked, even as he began to paint his own picture of what was going on. Some of his suspicions must have shown on his face, judging by the look Tyson was giving him.

“He has a cavity, Grampa,” Tyson said, waving him off. “He’s not lying to get out of practice. Max just has the decency to tell us when he has places to be. Unlike Kai; when he disappears, it’s radio silence.”

“Kai’s been cutting outta practice early too, then?”

Tyson hesitated for a second, before answering, somewhat reluctantly, “Well, no. Sometimes he’s gone when we wake up. Or we’ll just look up halfway through practice and he’ll be gone. That doesn’t mean that Max is trying to get out of practice on purpose.”

“I didn’t say he was trying to get outta practice. But I do think your homeboy might be hiding something.” He ignored Tyson’s doubtful expression and asked, “What’s the lowdown on his other excuses?”

“I don’t know Grampa. Something about the Hobby Shop and a video call with his mom?”

Ryu hummed thoughtfully and tapped his chin. “Does he seem nervous before he leaves?”

“Why would he be nervous?” Tyson countered, the non-answer giving Ryu all the reason he needed to do more digging.

“Does he stutter?” he asked. “Fidget? Blush?” He leaned closer to Tyson with each word, carefully studying his reaction.

Tyson leaned back, eyebrows knitting together. Then, after a few moments of hesitation, he said, “Maybe sometimes? I think he feels bad leaving early.”

Aha! The kids really were growing up.Ryu straightened up and crossed his arms over his chest. “More like Maxie’s got himself a stone-cold fox, ya dig?”

“A what?”

“A girlfriend, T-Dawg!”

Tyson blinked, staring at Ryu like a deer in the headlights, before his lips curled up into a smile and he burst into laughter. “A girlfriend?!” he cackled, nearly doubling over he was laughing so hard. Eventually he calmed down enough to choke out, “Max wouldn’t cut practice for a girl, Grandpa!”

“Love is a strange kind of sorcery, Tyson,” Ryu said sagely. “One day, you’ll find a foxy mama of your own and you’ll understand.”

Tyson wrinkled his nose in disgust, all traces of laughter suddenly gone. “Grampa, don’t ever say that again.”

At that moment, Hilary poked her head inside, effectively cutting the conversation short.

“Tyson! When exactly are you planning on coming back outside?” she asked, a special irritation reserved for his grandson in her tone. Ryu smirked when he heard it. “Thanks to your dawdling, you missed the rest of Max and Daichi’s battle. Next time, I’ll get the water if you can’t do it in a timely manner.”

“Relax, Hilary.” Tyson rolled his eyes and scooped up the water. “I’m coming – you don’t have to nag.” He breezed past her, pausing only to step back into his shoes, and left to rejoin his friends. No doubt he was moving faster to get away from the third degree Ryu was giving him. Lucky he had all the information he needed.

“Sorry about that, Grampa.” Hilary bowed her head apologetically. “I need to steal Tyson back.”

“More power to ya, Homegirl.” He winked.

“Thanks!” Hilary smiled and followed Tyson back outside.

As if on autopilot, Ryu brought up the rear.

Outside, Kenny was checking out Strata Dragoon with Daichi on one side and Ray on the other. Hilary joined their circle, reading Dizzi’s screen from over the top of their heads. Kai was on the porch, a little farther away, always on the outskirts of the group, but close enough to hear everything that went down. Tyson was handing the last water bottle to Max, who was still standing in the dirt beside the bey dish. For now.

“Sorry I missed you pulverizing Daichi,” Tyson said, patting Max on the back, nearly causing him to slosh water all over himself. “I’ll have to catch Kenny’s instant replay.”

“He’s a defensive type,” Daichi moaned. “Strata Dragoon should’ve had an advantage.”

“Quit whining, Daichi,” Tyson scolded. “Draciel isn’t just any defensive type. Even I have trouble against him.”

“Stats aren’t everything,” Kenny piped up, fingers gliding over his keyboard. “Max battles smart and strategically. Honestly, you could both stand to take notes.”

While Tyson and Daichi rounded on Kenny, demanding to know what he meant by that and why he wasn’t picking on Kai or Ray, Ryu kept a close eye on Max. He was watching the scene unfold with a grin on his face. Ryu was sure he was the only one seeing how he snuck glances at his watch, drumming his fingers on his water bottle and watching the others for an opportunity to make his exit.

Sly dog.

“Max,” Hilary shouted to be heard over Tyson and Daichi’s bellyaching, “don’t you have a dentist appointment? Don’t let these two make you late.” She shot the pair of them a pointed look.

Ryu watched as Max took an overly obvious look at his watch, like he didn’t know exactly what time it was, and fake surprise.

“Yeah, sorry guys,” he sighed, the reluctance in his voice clashing with the fact that he’d already started backing slowly towards the front of the dojo. “I have to go.”

“Good luck!” Ray said, having slid further back on the porch to get away from the Bermuda Triangle of Tyson, Daichi, and Hilary that poor Kenny was currently at the center of. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Let us know how it goes!” Hilary chimed in.

The rest of the team echoed similar sentiments and Ryu kept a keen eye on Max who was definitely starting to sweat.

“Oh, uh, thanks guys!” His laugh and wave reeked of nervous energy, solidifying Ryu’s theory with each passing second.

As Max gathered up his things with oddly unsteady hands, Ryu was piecing together another way he could back up his hunch. And it was a way that only he could pull off without rousing suspicion. Ryu smirked. Sometimes there were perks to being old.

“Thanks for having me, Grampa,” Max said as he passed, polite as always but with a glimmer of excitement in his eye that the dentist wouldn’t see on the best of days.

“Anytime, Homie,” he answered with a thumbs up. “Catch ya on the flip side.”

Max smiled, waved, and started to jog away.

He was almost out of earshot when Ryu chuckled to himself, and shouted after him, “Hey Maxie, don’t forget to wrap it before ya tap it, ya dig?!”

“Grampa!”

He ignored Tyson’s indignant yell and the sound of one of the others choking on their water, in favor of watching Max trip over his own feet on his way out the gate. When he glanced back, his face was beet red and, judging by the poorly-concealed guilt, Ryu hadn’t been totally off base about his girlfriend theory.

He chuckled to himself and watched as Max left at a new, forcibly sedate, pace.

“What’s everybody freakin’ out about?” Daichi piped up, looking around at the rest of the team with obvious confusion.

“Sorcery, Little Dude,” Ryu answered when none of the others would meet Daichi’s eyes. “The strangest kind of sorcery.”

#mayblade 2023 #beyblade #adding this to the pile of fics I've stared at too much and now can't tell if I like it #it's a big pile nowadays #this prompt was hard and I sure went some kind of direction with it #azrfic #azikarue #azikarue394

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enchantingruinscandy · 6 months

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grampa max is 60? why are they acting like he's a geezer, he's not that old

#ben 10 #max tennyson #enchanted dumbassery

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sonicasura · 11 months

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Are any of the Trolls fans of Grampa Max's cooking?

Absolutely. Grandpa Max is often sharing recipes with the various troll residents whenever he visits. He even gotten ahold of a few contacts so Trollmarket can perform more trades for various stuff like ingredients.

I wholeheartedly believe that if the trolls had good relations with someone who runs a supermarket on the surface then they have a lot more traditional dishes to make.

#sonicasura #sonicasura answers #asks #cf8wrk4u us #tales of arcadia trollhunters #toa trollhunters #trollhunters #toa #tales of arcadia #omnitrix wearer!jim #grandpa max #max tennyson #ben 10 #ben 10 series #ben ten #ben ten series

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rolaplayor101 · 2 years

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Cmon

Give us the thoughts

Ok so It's been a few months since I binged Ben 10 uaf but i was thinking about this, I cant get this monologue in my mind out of my head so I'm gonna finally write it all out and im sorry if some info is wrong and I dont make any sense, this is stream of consciousness rn

So, like, you ever think about how Ben is in the car alone with Gwen when they're arguing about Kevin and his current state of serial violence and how we never see him yell like that, and how in alien force he was in the car with Julie and Kevin and Gwen and he would insist on not arguing with her when they were being watched, and now when he's alone with Gwen, without Kevin, he can let it all out? And how Kevin has pretty significant body dysmorphia and how that is seen as his most important and most conflicting trait, the thing he hates the most and that he struggles with so much over and over and how Albedo also has body dysmorphia and that its played for a joke and not taken with the same amount of seriousness and caution that Kevin's is, and that Kevin never comments on it despite having the exact same issue, and like how literally all Albedo wants is his og body back but even by the end of the whole series he never gets it back and its supposed to be funny funny haha too bad for him even though his whole thing with Azmuth was even said by him in UAF to no longer matter to him if he could just get his galvan body

and that Ben was established to make jokes and act all cocky because if he didn't he would lose his mind and break under all the pressure and that when he was separated into three different Ben's when he was at Julie's tennis match he kept trying to talk to Kevin about how their relationship with each other has changed since they were kids and how he considers him his best friend and how in the episode that they were trapped in the Perplexahedron looking for the piece of the map of infinity or whatever he gets to have that conversation seriously with Kevin about how much they appreciate each other and they have an intimate moment and how quickly Ben goes from that scene to being ready to kill Kevin, and he was ready to do it, but as soon as another viable option comes up he takes it just like that and how he goes over to Jimmy's to talk about his relationship with Julie and he infodumps and really talks about all his thoughts to this kid and how he kisses Gwens forehead before he chooses to sacrifice himself to save the transformations in his omnitrix and how he hugs Grampa Max when he finds him in the Null Void after he was presumed dead and how he makes an effort to get to know and change Reiny when they're stuck on some random planet without food or water despite having tried to kill each other just before and how it's kinda like what he kept wanting to talk about with Kevin

And how when Gwen intimidated Zombozo into never bothering the Tennyson family and friends again by threatening to kill them and how Ben intimidated the Forever Knights in The Purge by straight up threatening to kill them in how i recount to be a more visceral way and how mad he gets about Area 51, and how Kevin had a life before meeting Gwen, like he had Argit and a mentor he looked up to and he got engaged to someone and he watched Captain Planet and got a car and a drivers licence and how he literally doesn't hang out with anyone else except for Argit sometimes and even then he acts like he doesn't actually care about him, and how they all died??? Like they literally all just died??? From Charmcaster??? And Ben was ready to give up his life, practically commited, but that ended up working in his favor and yet he died??? From her?? And he also did all that threatening, him and Gwen, and yet they died??? So shes the strongest character??

And Kevin, like, has a mom?? We see his mom for the first time and she's got her son's style and then we never see her again but we do see his stepdad and they have that super intimate kinda out of nowhere conversation and his stepdad is like "I dont want your mom to see you like this" and it almost works, and how once again Kev and Albedo both have body dysmorphia and how online its equated with body dysphoria and being trans when body dysmorphia is itself also its own thing, and how Ben works well with anyone he meets- like Elena, Manny and Helen, Alan, Pierce, and Cooper. He works well with Rex, and the Saturday's, and Simian for awhile, and Eunice, and literally he's just nice to all these people and he's adaptable, like as soon as he found out Simian was the bad guy he made a plan, and same with Cooper when he found out Kevin could be saved. Also, like, Ben hugging Julie in the Prom episode, and hugging her in the last episode of ua, and smiling at Kevin when he turned back, or when he was yelling at the leaders of the war in the episode Simple which is another time he gets unusually angry for himself

and how you'd look at all these things and think his character is inconsistent but no, i think he's just a 15 to 16 year old kid figuring himself out and feeling emotions and changing from day to day with each life threatening adventure its not like he's a uber serious thirty year old man whose suddenly acting super sweet and handing out candy bars he's a teenager who doesn't have his personality figured out yet because he rarely has time for himself, like Gwen literally says that Ben keeps staying up late with her and Kevin while they patrol because he has nightmares and then it comes up again later that he's still not sleeping good, and then theres the episodes where aliens just appear in his room and either attack him or give him trophies and finally you have Albedos attack that backfires and ends up with him living out his worst nightmares in a dream like of course the kids inconsistent hes a mess it's not bad writing in fact i feel like thats realistic af

#ben tennyson #ben 10 #kevin levin #gwen tennyson #argit #charmcaster #ben 10 charmcaster #julie yamamoto #ben 10 albedo #body dysmorphic disorder #body dysmorphia #ask

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