#and THIS means I can take the smaller/upright dresser from the spare room and use it in mine

[cantankerouscatfish]

got a dresser from my mum, who found it in the trash, so this is like a 5th-hand broken dresser. finally in the hands of someone with a borrowed bottle of wood glue and some clamps.

only 3 clamps, though, so I can only glue back together one section at a time. yesterday it was a little crossbar-thing that goes between the drawers. today it is the vertical sections on both sides of where that crossbar-thing attaches to. tomorrow it will be one of the drawers that seems to've fallen hard enough to bust up the corner.

I also got the mirror back together and attached. bc it's a ~fancy dresser~. weird having a mirror, especially one so big. it will give more light to the plants in the window, maybe.

[riahlynn101]

“When I’m Gone” (2).

Chapter Two

--

Alana stands atop a rickety chair. It protests with the slightest movement, and it doesn’t help that the pin she’s trying to push in, refuses to budge. She huffs. Maybe using tape or blue tack was the way to go.

The chair wobbles dangerously side-to-side. Alana starts to brace herself for impact, but the chair seems to right itself.

“Miss Arthur,” Vanessa starts in her I’m-an-adult-and-definitely-did-not-just-turn-fifteen-today tone of voice, “I told you we should’ve bought a stepladder. One of these days you’re going to hurt yourself.”

“Bah!” Alana waves away the concern. “Why buy a stepladder when we have a perfectly good chair right here?” She turns back to the wall. “Do you feel any different?”

If she could just line up the thumbtack with a previously established hole…

Vanessa hums. “No, not really.”

The thumbtack slides a few centimeters further than what’s needed. “Really now? I remember when I was your age-”

“-you walked up two hills, both ways, barefoot, and you sat next to Jesus Christ in your one room schoolhouse.”

“Hey! I’m not that old.” In her peripheral vision, she watches Vanessa stick her tongue out.

“Sorry, I forgot. Maybe it was one hill? And shoes were probably invented by then, right?”

Alana reaches down just to grab a spare dish rag to throw at her. It hits her square in the face but given it’s a small piece of cloth (which weighs hardly anything soaking wet), all Vanessa can do is giggle as it hits the floor.

Alana shakes her head, tightening her hold on the thumbtack. “Well, there goes my free, motherly advice,” she teases, clicking her tongue. “Now, hold this chair still. Unless you’d like to be the one to do it?”

“Uh...couldn’t we just tape it up?”

Alana opens her mouth to retort, but a small ruckus coming from upstairs stops her short. “Guess Gregory’s awake,” she mumbles to herself. “Vanessa, can you please-”

“-On it.” Always the one to be proactive, Alana hears her thud through the kitchen, into the living room, and up the stairs.

As if some God, somewhere has heard her prayers, on her next try, the thumbtack slips in. The banner holds perfectly. The words: Happy 15th Birthday are printed across it in bright colors.

Alana hopes Vanessa has a good birthday. It’s the least she deserves.

X-x-x

Upstairs, in a room painted sunshine yellow, Gregory stares at the ceiling. His eyes still feel heavy, and no adults are in sight, which means naptime isn’t over yet. But if that’s the case, why is he awake? Gregory tries to recall waking up, but he can’t. A sudden awareness of his surroundings and the ache of exhaustion is all he can remember.

He rubs his fist in his eye. That seems to take away some of the heaviness, so Gregory forces himself to sit upright. He yawns, the urge to flop back down and sleep is tempting, but he needs to get his card ready for Vanessa.

Ms. Fritz, his daycare teacher, had been so proud of his insistence on wanting to write the whole message out himself. She had even given him a gold star for it.

He rolls off the toddler-size bed onto the carpeted floor. Mama let him go to the store with her to pick it out. It has characters from all the Freddy Fazbear locations: Foxy, Bonnie, Chica, Freddy, and Fredbear, Toy Bonnie, Toy Chica, Toy Freddy, and Helpy. But his favorite has to be the characters closest to his bed. Smaller than the rest of the pictures is a sneak peak, group photo of the upcoming Pizza Plex characters. It’s not opening any time soon, unfortunately, but he already knows Glamrock Freddy will be the best out of all of them.

Gregory stands in the middle of the room, one hand on his hip and the other tapping a finger against his chin. Now, if he could just remember where Mama put his bag. Ms. Fritz tucked his card inside, underneath his teddy bear. His eyes land on a piece of blue fabric, sticking up out of his dresser.

Absolutely delighted at having found his bag, and by proxy, his sister’s card, he pads over to the dresser. Except the handle is just out of his reach. He jumps on his tippy toes, lunging for it, but he’s still a foot or so shorter than needed.

Gregory huffs. He needs a chair...his eyes wander over his bedroom...or a stack of books. He pulls some books off his bookshelf. Why didn’t he think of this before? It’s genius, which is a word he learned from Vanessa after he walked into a wall.

Carefully, he stacks the books in front of the dresser. He climbs up, and thankfully, is tall enough now to grab out his bag. Overjoyed he jumps, celebrating. The books slide to the left unexpectedly. His heart skips a beat, as he loses his balance and tumbles to the floor.

He lays, sprawled out, on the floor. The pain doesn’t register for a minute, and it’s not until he hears someone coming up the stairs that he comes back to reality. The back of his head is pounding, and his back, legs, and arms feel like they were rubbed raw. He cries, coming out in short hiccups.

“Mama...mama…” his chest stutters as he tries to calm himself down.

He hears his door open but can’t bring himself to look. “Oh, no, Gregory are you okay?”

He shakes his head slightly. “No, Vanny, help me. Please.”

She pulls him up, examining his injuries. Gently, she soothes his hair. “Do you want a hug? Would that make you feel better?”

“Uh...huh...and-and can you kiss my head?”

“Of course,” she says, leaning in to kiss his crown. She wraps her arms around him. When eventually, after several moments of tolerating her hold, he starts squirming, Vanessa loosens her grip.

“All better now,” he tells her, face still wet with tears. His arms, legs, and back still hurt. But his sister is here, and she has the ability to make it all go away.

“What were you doing that made you fall?”

He blanches at the question. The bag is close by, and he can see his teddy bear peeking out. “Nothing,” he says, getting to his feet.

“Nothing, huh? So, you just decided to fall for fun?”

“Mhm.” He nods, slyly kicking the bag under his bed.

Vanessa eyes him up and down. “You’re so weird,” she laughs. “Miss Arthur is finishing up the decorations. I think we’re having pizza tonight.”

Gregory squeals, he loves pizza. What kid doesn’t?

Well, he knows that one of the boys from his class doesn’t, but that’s only because he gets really, really sick when he eats it. So everyone, excluding him.

He bounces on his heels. “What kind? What kind?”

“Dunno, probably pepperoni and cheese.”

“Yay!” He jumps on his bed, flopping down. “Oh, Vanny?” He turns his head to face her.

“Yes?”

“It’s your born day, right?”

Vanessa laughs again and doesn’t seem to stop. “It’s...it’s...it’s my...my birth-” She doubles over, holding her stomach. “Ha, sorry...it’s not born day. Birthday. The word you’re looking for is birthday.��� When she finally recovers, Vanessa takes a few deep breaths. “And, yes, today is my birthday.”

“Good! I have something to give you then.”

“Oh? Let me see.”

Gregory shakes his head, annoyed. Didn’t adults know that presents were for after dessert? At least that’s what mama told him. “No, Vanny! Not until later.” He fixes her with his best stern glare.

His sister sticks out her tongue. “Brat,” she says.

He returns the favor, sticking out his tongue and shouting, “dum-dum!”

“Ankle-biter.”

“Stupid-head.”

“Tiny tot.”

“Meanie pants.”

“Hey, I am not mean,” Vanessa says, reaching over to mess his bangs up.

“Yes, you are...sometimes.”

“Vanessa, Gregory! The pizza’s here!” Mama calls for them, down in the kitchen.

“Coming!” His sister shouts over her shoulder. “C’mon dinner’s ready,” she tells him, before hurrying out of his room. He goes to follow before pausing in the doorway. Vanessa’s card!

He can see the bag sticking out under his bed, but he can also smell the pizza in the kitchen. And going down the stairs takes him so long without Vanessa or mama carrying him. Surely, mama will let him go get the bag once dinner’s over.

Yeah, he reasons, he’ll just get the card after dinner.

X-x-x

“Thank you for the pizza, Miss Arthur,” Vanessa says, taking another bite of her pepperoni pizza.

“You’re very welcome.”

Vanessa nudges her brother with her elbow. Sometimes he could be so forgetful.

“Ow! What-” His lips formed into an o, as he finally realized. “Thank you, mama.”

She took another bite of her pizza, rougher than necessary, some of the cheese slid off onto her plate. Miss Arthur smiles and repeats her earlier sentiments. Vanessa loves Miss Arthur, considers her the closest person to a mother. And she loves, and is insanely grateful, for the fact that she took in Gregory instead of leaving him at the mercy of the foster care system.

But she hates, hates, hates that her brother refers to Miss Arthur as “mama”. It feels like he’s betraying their biological mother - as non-present as she currently was in their lives. At the end of the day, she’s still their mother. So, what if Miss Arthur is all Gregory knows? That shouldn’t matter. Afterall, it’s really the principle of it all.

Miss Arthur leans over to Gregory, thumb brushing some crumbs off his chin. He giggles, leaning towards Vanessa in a childish attempt at running away. Her whole body suddenly feels too hot.

Vanessa tries to breathe normally, but she can feel each beat of her heart, pounding against the confines of her ribcage. She can hear the blood running through the veins in her ears. She blinks once, twice, three times to clear the fog from her head.

She glances over at Miss Arthur, who is now playing peek-a-boo with Gregory. He’s two, which is a little old for a game about object permanence, but he seems to be enjoying the game.

There’s a loud clunk as Vanessa slams her hands on the table. Her cup falls to the floor, shattering. She eyes Miss Arthur.

“You’re not our mother. Stop pretending like you are.”

All the joy is sucked out of the moment by nine little words. Miss Arthur doesn’t say anything, just mumbles some excuse about needing something from the corner store, and to get Gregory ready for bed. Even though he just woke up an hour ago.

X-x-x

“Vanny, why did you say that? You made her sad.”

Vanessa’s throat constricts, it makes it hard to talk. “I..I know. I didn’t mean it. We’ll be fine in the morning, don’t you worry.” She boops him on the nose, sending him into a fit of giggles. “Goodnight, I love you.”

“Goodnight, Vanny.”

Vanessa flicks the light off and does a quick check to make sure his nightlight is still working properly. A second set of goodnights are echoed back at each other, before Vanessa pulls herself into the hallway. She closes Gregory’s bedroom door behind her.

Without her brother keeping her company, there’s no distractions to keep from rethinking that moment over and over again. Miss Arthur had looked so hurt, but she couldn’t understand why. Literally speaking, Miss Arthur wasn’t their mother, biologically or adoptively.

To add insult to injury, Miss Arthur has brought up adoption before. Vanessa had always declined the offer, citing her mother’s broken promises with sad, hopeful eyes, and never has Miss Arthur ever gotten angry with her for rejecting the offer, not once.

“Good luck getting adopted now,” she mutters, probably should start packing before Mrs. Smith arrives.

Back in the bedroom, Vanessa stuffs a few outfits, some toiletries, her homework, a photo of Gregory and her, and a drawing Gregory drew for her for Mother’s Day, into a small suitcase. She drags the suitcase off the bed, allowing it to thud onto the floor. Satisfied, she flops on the bed.

Vanessa knows Gregory won’t take long to pack for. Despite having more stuff in his room than her, there were few things he actually showed interest in. If she closed her eyes, she could picture exactly what he’d want to bring. Vanessa would pack an outfit or two and his toiletries, of course, but he would also want his teddy bear and security blanket.

Simple items with so many sentiments and memories tied to them. His teddy bear, if Vanessa remembers correctly, was given to him by one of the social workers during a visit. A nice gift by all accounts, and Gregory took a liking to it immediately.

His blanket, on the other hand, has always been with him. Quite literally too, the day he arrived at the house, he was swaddled in it. There’s nothing remarkable about it. It’s an off-white color with little, faded pictures of old Fredbear and Friends characters. At the very top, embroidered in pink, are the letters C.E.

She has little idea about who C.E is, and it’s not like Gregory can tell her. Poor kid can hardly remember which bedroom is his, and it’s likely it was just a donation item that DHS threw-in as a pity gift.

The blackness behind her eyes turns to a reddish color. She opens her eyes to see car lights being reflected on her ceiling. An exaggerated sigh leaves her mouth. “That was quick.”

She goes to collect her bag and wake Gregory up, but as she passes the window, she can make out two people - a man and a woman - slamming their car doors closed. They instantly put Vanessa on edge.

She keeps an eye on them, as she reaches for her phone. The phone, she sees out of the corner of her eye, is just out of reach. Vanessa extends her arm as far it can go, shoulder aching from the effort. Her eyes never leave the people outside. They’ve stopped moving and seem to be staring at the front porch.

Ah, to hell with it!

Vanessa leans away from the window, swiping her phone off the nightstand.

She returns to her spot in front of the window, already dialing 9-1-1.

“9-1-1 where’s your emergency?”

“57 C-” Her blood runs cold.

“Ma’am?” The operator asks, concerned.

“The people...the people are gone…”

Oh, shit! This isn’t good. She needs to calm down and think clearly, but she can’t move from her spot; it's like she’s glued to it.

“What people? Ma’am can I please have the address? I can’t send help if you don’t give me an address, it’ll take a long time before help will arrive.”

She tries to listen to the operator’s words, but all her racing mind can think about is Gregory. He has no way to defend himself. If something happens to him...

Vanessa gives the rest of the address to a very concerned, very baffled operator, and hangs up. The call disconnects and she runs as fast as she can all the way to Gregory’s room.

He’s sleeping peacefully, face lax and breathing rhythmic. Completely unaware of the mess happening around him.

Good, she thinks, shutting and locking the door behind her, at least one of us isn't an anxious wreck.

[lunariumarcs]

Espionage AU

-The Children-

A terrible storm bombarded Mystacor and her surrounding territories. Lightning reigned supreme that night and Casta watched anxiously from the north east tower of the Academy. She downed the last of her night vision potion and leaned into the cold glass windows. Even with her ocular enhancement spell, her vision was not good enough to see through the sheets of rain. She nearly looked away to retrieve a book when she caught sight of some movement near the edge of the shield. After so long, she’d learned what to look for when seeking Shadow Weaver’s return. The shadows responded to the elder witch, they leaned sharper in her direction and sometimes, if it was quiet enough, they gossiped in hushed tones about her return.

Casta hastily activated a teleportation spell and appeared beside the dark spot at the edge of the shield. The shadows wrapped away to reveal Mystacor’s best and only agent. She hunched over a box and her breaths came in clouded pants. Her face was hidden under someone else’s stolen identity.

“Are you alright?” Casta asked, taking the box from her. It was no larger than the cavity of her chest and a small girl sat upright in it. A garbage back had been wrapped around her like a makeshift pancho. Her teeth chattered together and her eyes stared widely at Casta. The rain slid right off it and caused the cardboard to grow soggy. It was heavier than she expected and she used a small levitation spell to assist her.

“I’m fine.” The agent stretched out her back. Several vertabrae crackled from being hunched over for so long. “I’m not used to transporting more than just myself.“ She shivered, “We should go inside, before any of us catch cold.”

Casta was barely able to teleport all of them to the stairs of the academy. They walked the rest of the way to her chambers, leaving a trail of rain water as they went. Several academy tutors and students, up late finishing term projects, nodded at them and offered help for the old mother and her child. Casta dismissed them with a warm smile and gratitude for their offer. It was then that she noticed that Shadow Weaver had taken a visage similar to the girl in the box - blond hair and bright, blue eyes. It clashed with her robes, soaked through and clinging to her meager body.

They exchanged no words until they arrived in Casta’s quarters. Shadow Weaver let the illusion fall from her face.

“No, wait, don’t do that.” Shadow Weaver said, as Casta set up a drying spell.

“We’ll all die from cold if I don’t!”

A warm blast of heat surrounded the three of them and evaporated every last drop of water.

“See, its so much better now - oh!” She giggled, “Oh stars, your hair!”

Shadow Weaver struggled to smooth the mess of frizz on her scalp. Casta decided to give the agent a break but she couldn’t stop herself from smiling. Leaving the agent to her own devices, Casta turned her attention to the small girl. She had since climbed out and was playing with the knobs on one of the dresser drawers.

Casta went to pick up the box, so she could dispose of it, when she discovered another, smaller bundle. A hairless cat baby snored quietly, swaddled in a patchy bath towel. She must have been hidden under the other child’s bag pancho.

“What in Etheria is dark, scary Shadow Weaver doing with you.” Casta cooed.

“Cat-ta, Cat-ta!” The small girl babbled, pointing at the baby.

“I was only going to leave with the girl.” Shadow Weaver sighed, “But she wouldn’t leave without the cat and the cat wouldn’t leave without the box.”

“That’s adorable. Do they have names?”

“The older child is named Adora. I don’t have a name for the cat.”

Casta gasped, “You found this adorable baby and you didn’t bother to name her? You know, I read once that children require a name in order to properly forge their identity. They can’t name themselves, so, as the responsible adult in the room, you are obligated to do it for them.”

The agent massaged the bridge of her nose, “I kidnapped two soldiers from Hordak’s barracks - I didn’t exactly have an open schedule. Especially not with that little beasty yowling for her friend.”

“Shh! She is not a beast! Don’t listen to her... she’s just tired.”

“You’re going to wake her.”

“She slept through your terrifying magic and the thunder outside. I’m not going to wake her up.”

Shadow Weaver shifted her eyes away.

Casta squinted at her, “What did you do...?”

“I charmed the towel. She can’t hear anything as long as its wrapped around her.”

Castaspella didn’t bother to hide her disappointment, “I can’t believe you were allowed to teach students at this academy.”

“Teaching and parenting are very different things.”

Casta gently unraveled the towel from the baby and set them together on the bed.

“Watch her while I go find her a proper blanket.”

From her closet, she sifted through the spare garments on the top shelf until she found something that would work. It was one of the first things she had knitted. It wasn’t a perfect square but the yarn was soft and transitioned gently between different pastel colours of rainbow. 

“It’s a little old but I think - oh.” Casta smiled softly when she saw Shadow Weaver at the windowsill, looking out over the Academy court yard. The cat baby was in one arm. Her other hand steadied Adora’s back as she stood against the glass and wondered at the humongousness of the outside.

“Let me.” Casta said, reaching for the baby.

Shadow Weaver took the blanket from her, “No, I can do it. I’ve been doing this far longer than you have.” She let Adora down gently before attending to the baby.

With a gentleness Casta didn’t expect the agent to posses, Shadow Weaver wrapped the child in the knitted blanket. Through the commotion, the baby opened her mismatching eyes and made several noises at the mages.

“Cat-ta!” Adora tugged at Shadow Weaver’s gown.

“Would you like to hold her?”

The child exclaimed, wordlessly.

“Alright, but be careful with her. She’s only a baby.”

“I know!”

Shadow Weaver knelt and made sure Adora’s small hands were secured around the bundle. The girl smiled down at the kitten, “Hi, Cat-ta.” She whispered.

“You’d make a great mother, under different circumstances.”

“Don’t you ever say that.”

“Why not?”

“Motherly I may be, a mother I am not.”

Casta thought for a moment. After some silence she murmured, “Cat-ta doesn’t have a very pleasant ring to it.”

“She’s trying to say Catra. She wrote it out in her crayon drawings a few weeks ago.”

“I must be imagining this, but is that pride in your voice?”

“Of course. She’s my ward. I put in a lot of hard work to teach her.”

Adora handed Catra to Shadow Weaver and climbed up onto the bed. She lay her head on Casta’s lap and the sorceress pet her hair until she dozed off to sleep. Shadow Weaver sat on the other side of Casta.

“Why’d you take them?” She asked.

“Because they refused to leave each other.” 

“Yes, you said that - so I understand why Catra is here. But why Adora?”

“Because Adora is special. You won’t be able to see it but the Obtainment powers showed me - she has something inside of her that will bring peace to Etheria. She’s not from this world. Lord Hordak found her laying just beyond a portal in space. The idiot put her in the nursery with the other children and she unfortunately developed attachments. When I explained to her that I would have to take her away, she cried for hours.”

“What made her stop?”

“I told her that if she didn’t stop crying, she would use up all the water on Etheria and the whole planet would become a desert.”

“That’s a little... harsh.”

“It worked.”

Casta frowned, “We’ll have to find good homes for them. Money is a little short for everyone so I’m not sure who’s going to take them. But we’ll try.”

“Promise me you’ll take them if nobody else does?”

Shadow Weaver hardly ever begged for anything but when she did, she did so without a care for her dignity. Casta had to look away so she wouldn’t have watch the agent’s face fall.

“I can’t do that. I have so much responsibility as the Supreme Sorceress. I can’t take care of two children, let alone one. And what happens when I have to go out there and I get injured in battle? What happens to them if I die?”

“Don’t say that. Never ever say that.” She put a hand on Casta’s cheek, “You will be here for at least one hundred years. Longer than that, maybe.”

“Dearest... that still doesn’t mean I can take care of them.”

Shadow Weaver took a breath.

“I’ll find them the best home, I promise.”

“You better.”