#complaining about the child she got taken from her and put in foster care

[capesandshapes]

Seeing on TikTok that Republicans are trying to get Kamala pulled from the ticket via the Dred Scott case and being like this has to be a lie, there's no fucking way that any Republican on earth is this dumb only to see my insanely stupid second cousin repost a shitty pixelated meme supporting it on Facebook with "damn right, proud that we know and respect our history"

[attllhak]

Adoption AU - Lullaby Reacts to Time’s Batman Level Adoption Bullshit

@tortilla-of-courage I offer you mercy. Also no one mentioned wanting to be tagged on the last story on this series so it’s just you for right now I guess.

Also, this fic is called ‘Aunt Lullaby/Uncle Sheik On Time’s Sudden Acquisition Of Kids’ in my docs, but I’ve been using the ‘Batman-Level Adoption Bullshit’ for so long that this is the title now.

Also! Some of the boys have some heavy topics to their backstories (Wars comes to mind as an example), so let me know if I need to tag this with certain warnings or stuff. Nothing is actually shown, but I figured I’d just put that out there.

-----------------

Lullaby, who was still just Zelda then, had been very excited when Time, then just Link, had called her to tell her that Malon was pregnant.

She had gotten the call first, as Link had found it important that she knew before anyone else. After everything else in his life, he said, he wanted the person who he knew would always be there for him to know first, and that he was going to be making a few other calls later that day.

Link had never had an easy life. When his father died when he was 10, he’d ended up devastated. Zelda and her Aunt Impa had found him hiding in an alley a few days after, once he’d run away from the social workers. His sister Navi had been with him, and the two were sorting through the very few bits of snack food they’d had. Link’s father had been a foster parent for a lot of strays, orphans, or abused kids needing another place to stay. Link had fallen into the orphan category, and so the social workers had planned to cycle him back into the system. He’d lost contact with his sister Saria, whom he still hadn’t found out how to make contact with again, and so all he had was Navi. Impa had taken them both in on the spot, much to the annoyance of Zelda’s father initially, but the two grew on him. Navi went missing when Link and Zelda had been 17, after an issue with a man who really had wanted to see them both dead. Link hadn’t given up hope yet, but with every passing year it looked worse and worse for her to be okay.

Zelda had known Malon from day one, and had loved Link’s wife and was so happy to see him find that bit of happiness. The one thing she knew he wanted more than anything else was to have a solid, stable family of his own.

The pregnancy was a wonderful bit of news, and she couldn’t be happier for her brother.

She had spent some time over at their house, her then-girlfriend Ruto coming as well, helping Malon with some of the housework and such since she wasn’t supposed to be doing too much of the ranch work while pregnant.

She had arrived at the hospital less than thirty minutes after she got the call that Malon was in labor, and spent the time pacing in the hall, then supporting Link when he got kicked out after panicking too much. Apparently Malon had enough of him.

She could relate.

After Link had his whole ‘we made a whole baby person’ moment where his brain short-circuited after he was handed his son, the next person who got to hold him was Zelda. A chubby baby, who slept almost the whole time. He had his mother’s nose, thank Hylia.

Zelda saw him open his eyes only once that day, and she could swear she saw in his cobalt-silver eyes that same spark in his father’s eye. Singular, since Link only had the one.

Zelda’s family had a long tradition of naming their kids after family members. Her name was her grandmother’s and her great-grandmother’s, so on so forth. Her father had been pressing to pick a family name the entire pregnancy. Her mother had kept telling him to back off a little. Fortunately, Malon’s family also had a set of passed down names, hers being one of them. So the idea of naming the child after family wasn’t a big deal for her, even if it was a different set of names.

However, there was one thing to take into account here, and that was Link’s family.

No one knew what the naming traditions in his family were, he didn’t even know his birth parent’s names. But that didn’t change the desire to find a way to work them in too.

There was only one name from Link’s family that anyone knew.

The baby was named Link.

Zelda’s father stopped complaining a week later. Her mother was very clear about it.

At Zelda and Ruto’s wedding seven years later, Link Jr. was the ring bearer.

Junior stopped being his nickname when he was thirteen.

(---)

Zelda got a call from Link Sr. about a day after it happened with a simple request.

“Who was in charge of the paperwork when your family adopted me?”

Zelda blinked once, then twice. “Come again?”

“The lawyer who arranged for my adoption, who was that?” Link asked again.

“Why?” Zelda asked, her wife leaning around the doorframe to give her a concerned look. Zelda shot her a thumbs up.

A heavy sigh came from the other end of the phone. “I think I’ve acquired another son,”

Zelda came over.

This new nephew of hers, apparently, was a sweet boy. A series of scars littered his entire left side, burn and explosive damage if she were to guess, and he had no idea how he got them. He had amnesia. The one thing he did know was his name.

His name was Link.

Zelda had to take a minute. She was trying very hard not to laugh. This was exactly the kind of luck her brother had.

“Zelda, stop mocking me, this wasn’t my call,” Link whined, though he’d never say it was a whine.

“Link, you have to see the humour here,” she gasped, waving at the two boys in the living room where Jr. was trying to show Scars how to use a lasso. This was Zelda’s idea, but she wasn’t taking responsibility for it.

Link just sighed heavily. “Link found him on the street. Malon looked into it and his parents died in a car crash a year ago, he has nowhere to go. We’ve agreed to let him stay, you understand that,”

Zelda nodded, sobering up some. “Yeah, I get that, kinda. The lawyer we hired was named Rauru, Mom should have his contact information still, you should call her,”

Link sighed, relieved. “Thank you,”

“Of course, just don’t make it a habit,”

(---)

The first inclination this would be a habit was a year later.

Wild, the younger of his sons, was in the same class as another boy named Link. This boy had lived with his uncle his whole life, and got the call his uncle died when at school. Sheik was about ready to punch someone for doing that to the boy, and just before christmas no less.

Wild brought him home, insisting he could stay at least for the holidays. The agreement wasn’t even a question, there was no way he was going to be forced to spend a holiday at an orphanage.

When Sheik and Ruto showed up on christmas day, not that their family cared much for christmas but they were all off anyways, the newest Link had been named Legend.

He was a little more shy than the others, understandably, and a little snappish.

Not a bad kid, just one grieving and in need of family. That was something their family had never hesitated to provide.

Sheik’s mother teaching him how to spin a butterfly knife was probably not the wisest decision, but considering Rottla heard a therapist say “Your kids are traumatized, they need to feel safe again,” and decided to sign them up for every martial arts she could, well, it should have been a sign that she wasn’t the best in that regard. Time, Link Sr., had made it very clear he felt Sheik took after her. Sheik had no idea what his brother was talking about.

Legend didn’t leave after that. One call to Rauru, and Legend was a permanent member of the family.

Sheik took great pride in being the favorite Uncle of Legend’s, after his late guardian of course. He pointedly ignored that he was the only Uncle, and only part-time.

Time could suck it.

(---)

Lullaby, since so many of her nephews’ friends were named Zelda apparently, received a call at five am.

True, she knew her brother and his wife woke up at sunrise to do yard work and such, but usually they were kind enough to let her sleep in.

Not so this morning.

“Wha?” She mumbled into the phone, trying, and failing, to not wake her wife.

“Zelda,” came Malon’s clipped tone through the receiver, “do you know about a missing person’s case for one Jerimiah Smith?”

Zelda blinked heavily, and had to convince herself not to go back to sleep. Who, why did Malon care? It was five am, the sun wasn’t even up yet.

“Why?” She asked to buy time, still working on a quarter of thought. Ruto rolled over and held her. Not helping, Ruto.

“I have a Link Smith in my barn claiming that his grandfather went missing, and he’s run away from a temporary foster home,” Malon explained, and okay that was worth waking up for.

Lullaby sat up, pushing Ruto’s arm from her waist to her lap, causing her wife to grumble, and turned on the lamp, rubbing sleep out of her eyes. “Okay, okay pause. Pause and back up,” she half-swallowed a yawn, squinting into her bedroom. “What is going on?”

“I got up to do some work, since Link is still asleep, and I came into the barn to find a boy asleep in the hay, here you are,” her voice dropped away from the receiver, likely talking to the boy in question, then came back. “So I found a boy in the hay, and I woke him up. He says his name is Link Smith, and he was living with his grandfather since his father was overseas in the military. His father wasn’t home enough to care for him, so his grandfather had sole custody after his mother died or something, there was a lot of tears at this part. Anyways, his grandfather went missing a week ago, and he’s been through three foster homes and none of them were very accepting of, he apparently has a ‘mental thing’ that he’s dealing with. I was wondering if you could confirm his story?”

Lullaby leaned over the bed, grumbling, and grabbed her laptop, Ruto giving up on getting her back to bed and sliding up the headboard with her to drape over her shoulders while she pulled up Firefox. “Hold on,” she told her sister in law, plugging the name into Google. Jeremiah Smith, went missing a week ago, blah blah blah, oh there we go.

Link Smith, grandson of Jerimiah Smith, left in limbo after his grandfather’s disappearance. Oh, that was interesting. According to this article, which most certainly was breaking some privacy laws and if Link Smith was staying it would be coming down, the boy had multiple personality disorder.

“Yeah, he’s telling the truth,” Lullaby said, switching the phone to her other ear so Ruto could nuzzle up better without bumping it. “Also, I found his weird ‘mental thing’. According to this article, which I’m pretty sure isn’t legal, he’s got dissociative identity disorder,”

“Isn’t that dangerous?” Ruto mumbled, still mostly asleep on her shoulder.

“No, not really. He’s actually more likely to be in danger than a danger,” she twisted to kiss her wife’s head, then went back to Malon. “He probably really needs someone who’ll be supportive enough through all this, both the disappearance and his condition. DID isn’t something easy to live with, I can see him having some issues with foster parents,” Lullaby had never been so glad that she got bored one day and decided to look it up after she heard people talk about it so negatively. You never know when information like that would be useful.

“He’s fine to take in?” Malon whispered after a moment. “I just, the other boys,”

“Will need to be patient, but unless one of his alters is particularly bad for dealing with threats, perceived or otherwise, in an unkind way then he’s fine and safe to be around. I’d ask him about that, but don’t force him to admit anything that can be bad for him, but I don’t see any more risk than taking in Wild or Legend,”

Malon sighed on the other end of the line. “Alright, I’ll bring him in and wake up Link, so he can call Rauru about all this while I sit with him and try and get him to relax,”

“Wonderful, I’ll call the office and see about what I can do about this article then. And for the record, if you ever call me at asscrack of dawn o’clock in the morning again, then next time we meet I’m clocking you,”

Malon had the nerve to laugh.

Four, as he’d been nicknamed by the time Lullaby and Ruto showed up to meet him, was a fascinating person. Green, the host of his system, was a brave, if occasionally airheaded, boy who wanted to try everything, and had been fascinated by his grandfather’s old-timey forge. Time had plans to make one in the yard for him. Red, the emotional and spiritual protector of the system, was empathetic and sweet and compassionate. No one had a bad word to say about Red. Vio, short for Violet, was the gatekeeper for the system and kept the four of them working on the same page. Bright and clever boy, his nose stuck in a book most of the time and willing to offer up the most random and yet useful information. Blue, the physical protector, was a little gruff and definitely someone you just got used to, but he cared deeply about his ‘brothers’ as they called each other, and the external brothers he acquired grew on him quickly enough too. It was a bit of a fight to get custody of him, but Rauru was the best there was, so it was only a week or two before the paperwork was going through for him.

Lullaby had a feeling this wasn’t the end by a long shot, and prayed that Hylia would be merciful about granting Time’s wish for a family.

She was going a little overboard.

(---)

Sheik wasn’t surprised in the least at the newest addition when he walked in the one day. No, mostly he was just confused as to why he hadn’t gotten a phone call before he got there.

Usually there was a phone call.

He was very upset by the way the boy looked, however.

This new addition, Warriors as he’d learn later that Time acquired yet another Link, was curled up in the corner of the couch with his scarf wrapped around him like a blanket, clearly trying not to be seen. Voices floated out of the kitchen, and Sheik picked up that Twilight brought him home, and was lobbying for a new brother.

Ah, that’s why there was no phone call.

Ruto went to investigate the conversation, so Sheik decided to introduce himself to his newest nephew.

Upon closer inspection, the boy looked about Twilight’s age, and had a bruise on his temple, maybe a day or two old now. Looking closer saw a few more on the left side of the boy’s face. Someone hit him, with purpose.

Sheik sat down next to him and said nothing, waiting for him to make the first move. Eventually, he poked his head out of his scarf.

“Hello,” Sheik offered once it became clear he wouldn’t be saying anything.

“Hullo,” he mumbled into the fabric, glancing away and back at his feet.

“My name is Sheik,” Sheik offered lightly. “Time is my brother,”

The boy looked up, eying him. “Twilight is your nephew?”

“Yes, he is,” Sheik nodded, smiling at him. “You’re a friend of his?”

The boy shrugged. “Kinda,” a beat of silence passed, then he shifted around. “He said I’d be safe here,”

“You will be,” Sheik agreed, trying to be comforting. “I can assure you of that,”

He hummed and snuggled back into his scarf.

“May I, if this isn’t overstepping, can I ask why you need somewhere to be safe?” Sheik asked after a moment.

He tensed up, eyes darting to him and at the doorway, and then back, wide eyes a little panicked.

Sheik was just about to apologize when the boy spoke.

“I ran away from home,” he admitted, looking away. “My uh, my parents aren’t, great people. I can’t go back, so I need somewhere else to go. Twi said I could be safe here, that his parents would fight for me,”

“They will,” Sheik said with enough conviction it almost startled him. “I know my brother, and he can’t turn away from someone in need, and his wife is the most strong willed woman I’ve ever met. You won’t find another pair of people more willing to go to war for you than them.”

He blinked at Sheik, then nodded, relaxing a little. “And, if my parents come for me?”

Sheik grinned. “My family is very rich, and we have a small army of very good lawyers. You won’t be going back there, I assure you,”

He smiled, and leaned over towards Sheik a little. “I’m Link,”

Of course you are, Sheik thought. He held out an arm for ‘Link’ to lean into, not getting attached to the name since it would be changing. The boy leaned into his side easily, deflating against him with a sigh. He looked so tired.

“Link,” Sheik asked carefully, watching his words. “Can I ask about the bruises on your face?”

The boy blinked up at him, biting his lip.

“They uh, my dad did that,” he admitted in a small voice, curling into Sheik’s side, and the sheikah pulled him in close to his side, hoping to provide the comfort Link was seeking. “Right before I left. I packed up and went through the window. My twin sister is still there, and I’m a little worried about her, but I can’t go back again. I, he,” he paused, sucking in a breath. Sheik rubbed his arm and side, trying to help him calm down, ignoring the tears on his shirt.

“I thought he was going to kill me,” Link finally admitted in a small, scared voice.

Sheik knew he never had very many parental instincts, and he and Ruto agreed no kids before they even got engaged, but for the first time ever Sheik felt that flare that Time and Malon described everytime something threatened their kids. It was then and there Sheik decided this boy would be part of their family, whether Time was the one who took him in or not. No kid should have to say that and mean it. No kid should be scared their parent was going to kill them.

Oh, the lawyers Sheik was planning on bringing down on whoever these assholes were would be many.

Time took the boy in, as Sheik predicted (thankfully), and sure enough the immediate support was immense. His parents never even put out a missing persons report. Sheik added child negligence to his list of growing charges to lay out.

Two months after Warriors moved in, he got a call from his sister. She got out and was safe now, and wanted to be sure he was as well. This made him very relieved. They met up once or twice, and seemed to be getting back to normal.

Two weeks later, Legend and Wild got suspended distracting Warriors’ parents so Twilight could sneak him out the back of the school. Four didn’t get suspended, but only because when Vio messed with the security cameras to cover up the escape he didn’t get caught. Time took all three out for ice-cream and junk food when he picked them up.

Lullaby saw an opportunity and took it without hesitation. Lawyers were called and organized, and without much wait there was an order for both of them to appear in court on child abuse and negligence charges. The kidnapping charge laid against them in retaliation was almost laughable.

A few weeks later, Time and Malon had full custody of Warriors pending a proper criminal trial for full punishment of his parents, at which time Linkle, Warriors’ twin sister, planned to testify as well. If they couldn’t get things settled before Warriors turned 18, then they planned to push through an adult adoption the day he did. A birthday present, Time had said. Lullaby laughed.

(---)

Sky was probably the most skittish of Time’s sons.

Lullaby wasn’t sure entirely why he was so skittish, but he was. He reminded her of a bird, or a rodent, or a cat who really, really didn’t want to interact with new people.

She had been briefed before she visited on Sky’s background. His social worker had been having trouble setting him up with a home where he’d stay for longer than a week or so, and in a last ditch effort had asked Time and Malon, with their long track record of housing troubled and unhousable youths, if they could take one more. They agreed.

Sky apparently had a friend, a bit of a troublemaker if Lullaby guessed correctly, who had gotten the two arrested. Time mentioned the event had Sky concerned about being ‘too much trouble’ and that ‘they’d get rid of him too’ or something. Time said this was ridiculous, as Sky caused him the least amount of trouble, but the boy was concerned about being thrown away again. He apparently had a few self-worth issues.

Lullaby found him on the back porch talking to the birds. Not in any human language, mind you, and Lullaby spoke many, but cooing and chirping back at them. He seemed very happy and at ease like that, singing at the birds.

“Do you mind if I join you?” She asked in a whisper during a pause in the conversation.

Sky jumped, eyes wide, and he squirmed a little when he saw her. “Uh, sure, I guess,”

She sat on the other end of the bench next to him, and calmly went back to watching the birds, and him interacting with them. He seemed much more at ease here than he did with people.

“Did you need something?” He asked, after a while, letting a blue jay grab a peanut from his hand.

“Not specifically,” she shook her head. “I had wanted to meet you, but nothing else,”

He blinked at her a little dumbly.

“Why would you want to meet me?” He asked.

“What do you mean?” She asked back, not sure what he was trying to say.

“Well, I mean, I’m not exactly special. And, it’s not like I’m staying,”

“I think you’re pretty special, most people can’t get birds to land on their hands like that,” Lullaby said gently, not liking how he spoke about himself. “And why would you think you aren’t staying?”

“I never stay,” he admitted, turning his eyes back to the birds, frowning. “No one ever considers me worth the effort,”

“You are very much worth the effort,” Lullaby countered, trying her best to keep her face soft instead of pinching up. “Trust me, however much effort you are, it is nowhere near the level of your brothers. Time wouldn’t have taken you in if he didn’t want you,”

“He’s just doing Impa a favour,” he said glumly, offering up more birdseed to the birds. “I won’t be staying forever,”

“I’m sure my brother has explained why that’s bullshit,” Lullaby said bluntly.

“But, I got arrested,” he mumbled.

“So have three of your brothers,” Lullaby pointed out. “Regularly. For much worse things. I promise you, that is not an issue,”

“But,”

“If you are going to say something bad about yourself again then I’m telling you right now I’m not going to listen to it,” Lullaby cut him off. “Time has told me a lot about you, and all of it is how much he loves you,”

“Really?” Sky looked up at her.

“You cause him the least amount of headaches of all his sons,” Lullaby smiled. “He adores you,”

Sky turned away, clearly trying to think that over.

“How about you tell me more about the things you enjoy doing,” Lullaby suggested.

“Huh?” Sky asked, turning back to her.

“I’d like to get to know more about what makes my nephew happy,” she smiled.

“Why?”

“Well, I’d be a bad aunt if I didn’t, especially since you’ll be sticking around,”

Sky looked like he didn’t believe her, but told her about his woodcarving anyways.

Lullaby was happy that as time went on Sky became less skittish and self-deprecating. He was a sweet kid, and as he got more comfortable and confident more of his true colours started showing through.

She felt a bit bad for Time, though. Apparently he was as prone to chaos as his brothers, he was just more subtle about it.

Time brought it on himself though. He should have known this when he adopted six boys.

(---)

The call about the next son had Lullaby’s head hitting her kitchen table, groaning loudly even when Ruto came to check on her.

Wild found a boy in the woods and they’d decided to keep him.

This was getting to be just a bit too much.

When Sheik and Ruto got to meet the boy, they were a bit taken aback. They had expected another Wild.

What they got was a quiet boy who mostly kept to himself. He was a bit shy, but he seemed to open up a bit more around Wild and, amusingly, Legend. He was a bit jumpy, but considering they had no idea how long he was in the woods that was expected.

What was surprising them most was that he did actually have a mother, who loved him very much, but who was very sick and so wasn’t able to actually take care of him, thus the wandering in the woods. His mother had been very worried, but physically unable to look. She had asked family to check but they gave up pretty quickly.

In light of her family being horrible for taking care of her son, and not knowing if she’d survive her illness, she asked Malon and Time if they could take care of her son for her since she clearly couldn’t trust her relatives and the boy’s father had abandoned them the moment she decided to keep him.

Time and Malon had taken one look at the boy and their sons, and agreed. They worked out an arrangement to keep the boy’s mother in the loop, and then they called Rauru. After which Time called his sibling.

This boy’s name was also Link. Sheik did not feel bad about laughing. Really, his brother had the weirdest luck.

They, for some reason, decided his nickname would be Hyrule. Why they decided to name him after the country, Sheik didn’t know. Apparently it was the only nickname he liked.

He had trouble reading, but he liked learning, especially if he could use what he learned to help people.

He fit right in, which made Sheik wonder exactly when his brother was going to stop adopting. He hoped it was before the ranch house ran out of room.

(---)

Eight. He stopped at eight.

Which was still too many, in Sheik’s opinion, but whatever.

The newest hellraiser at least didn’t come from the streets like almost all of the others.

This Link (because yes, his name was Link too) had recently lost his parents and his grandmother couldn’t financially support both him and his sister. So Time and Malon agreed to take care of him for her. The rest of their sons all acquired a grandma as well, it seemed.

They nicknamed him Wind, and he immediately latched onto his older brothers and started giving his new parents headaches.

When Lullaby and Ruto showed up next, she felt no sympathy for her brother. He brought this on himself.

She was more than a little pissed off when the brat stole her wallet though. Damn thief.

Time assured her that they’d talk to him about it. Lullaby wasn’t sure that’d help.

But, she reasoned, despite the chaos, Time was happy. Practically giddy. He lit up whenever he spoke about his sons, and he clearly loved them dearly.

Hylia had granted his wish for a family. She maybe went a bit overboard, but as long as Time was happy, so was Lullaby.

(---)

She wasn’t commenting on the ninth kid. She refused.

At least his name wasn’t ‘Link’.

[i-try-to-write-stuff]

Misunderstood Choices Chapter 3

You stuck out like a sore thumb at those exclusive lavish and painfully boring gatherings. Sharon belonged to an elite set of rich and spoiled people who dressed in luxurious knick-knacks and trendy clothes, and generally assholes to anyone not as rich as them. You found them shallow and the people of this high society had been bitchy to you. Your skin crawled, you smiled, never reacting, knowing you can not risk offending anyone who might complain about you to your grandfather. You needed to be in your grandfather’s good books, your mother’s health was your topmost priority and if you had to drink this humiliation poison, you would do it, without any question.

Your mother had been a simpleton…a beautiful simpleton, she was working for the Vincent trading company when she met Nick Vincent and fell in love with him. Your father had showered her with expensive gifts and asked her to marry him.

For over a year your parents were involved..., living life to its fullest. Trusting that her fiancé would soon be her husband, your mother had put her career on hold. But when she got pregnant, Nick Vincent had come under pressure from his father and called off his engagement. When your mother refused to agree to an abortion, he had left her. But not before he reminded the mother of his unborn child that she had a bad reputation.

Your mother had endured those final insults. The father you had never met…. had been a hypocrite, a liar, and an unreliable partner. Your mother had to go to court to prove her baby’s paternity and after a lengthy battle had been granted a pitiful amount in child support which was never paid. As a result, your mother had started drinking too much to forget her sadness. At the age of five, you had had to go into foster care for a while. A newspaper had run a sad story about how you and your mother were thrown out in the streets because of unpaid rent and how you were scouring for the food from a dumpster near a restaurant, Nick Vincent had seen the story and had felt ashamed, he had taken steps to ensure that his ex-girlfriend and his daughter did not end up homeless and living apart again. An old ranch away from the hustle and bustle of New York had been assigned to your mother, to provide a permanent roof over your head. Your mother despised being away from the city life but you loved it and you had often had cause to be grateful for the security of a roof over their heads that could neither be sold nor taken away. Having lived through your mother’s many relationships, you did not have any illusions about men. If you glowed while thinking about Steve Rogers it was the result of your awkwardness, he was among few people who did not demean you. You may have had a crush on the tall blonde but you were also aware of how he saw you, you were pretty sure he does not even know your name. After all, you were painfully aware that there was no place for any fairy tales in real life. It is often said power begets power, similarly rich marry rich. If a rich person ever married a poor person or anyone beneath their stature it was only when the other person was extremely beautiful and intelligent. But then again even in your unlucky mother’s case, beauty hadn’t worked a miracle. The women and some men looked at him as if he hung the moon, flirted with him continuously, worshipped him, and wanted to fuck him. Steve was aware of his pull among the ladies. He had been spoilt by the admiration, appreciation, and attention he got... He was smart, narcissistic, and proud. You had been impressed by him as well. What had added feelings for him was his thoughtfulness. On several occasions, Steve had come to your rescue when his friends decided to make you the butt of their cruel jokes. Your so-called friend, Sharon, thoroughly resented having to take you everywhere she went. Sharon showed her animosity by making nasty jokes and comments that targeted your lack of attractiveness, your weight, your cheap clothing, and your apparent stupidity. Sharon’s friends soon jumped on the same bandwagon. Steve Rogers always managed to create a distraction to deflect hostile attention from you. It was surprising though, after all, he had acted that you were invisible. But he still had that gentlemanly thing going on, the protectiveness had touched you deeply. Steve might be arrogant, annoying, and overbearing at times, but he was also bold, tough, and unapologetic. You could not believe that he would accept the demeaning proposal from Arthur Vincent. Within twenty-four hours, you learned that you were very much mistaken about that part. ‘Come with me.’ Arthur said triumphantly. ‘Steve Rogers is waiting for you in the main hall. I met with his father and the lawyers this morning. All the essentials have been agreed upon. Your mother’s debts will be settled and I will send her to the rehabilitation center as soon as possible. You and Steve will be husband and wife within a week.’ ‘What???’ Shock ripped through you. Your grandfather had been right and you were wrong; Steve was willing to marry you to save his family from financial trouble. Did he feel that he had as little choice as you did? Given the option, You knew you could not turn your back on your mother, you knew she would not cope without the financial support and the treatment. It finally dawned on you that both of you were trapped by duty and loyalty. You were quite sure that he did not want to

marry you, just like you didn’t want to marry him and become an unwanted and most definitely unwelcomed wife. ‘Don’t keep him waiting. He is your prize, don’t let him slip away..’ Smirking with amusement, Arthur Vincent urged his unenthusiastic granddaughter across the hallway towards the main hall. The instant you entered the large, lavishly furnished room, your eyes met with shimmering blue eyes and you knew that Steve had heard your grandfather’s jibe. Steve was wearing a black suit a white shirt that made him look daunting like a scary bodyguard. You had never seen him in a three-piece suit, he looked like he was attending a funeral. And obviously, because of the nervous energy pent up in you, you stumbled on your own feet and accidentally crashed into the table present nearby. You felt like a baby deer. ‘I am so sorry,’ you muttered steadying the stationary table frantically. Steve had noticed that before; you said sorry even when you didn’t do anything wrong. He was studying you. In true Vincent style, you had not grown up but out and you barely reached the top of his chest, you were small and chubby. You wore plain clothing like an old lady, a black trouser that was obviously too long for you.., a loose greyish t-shirt. It was impossible to tell what was beneath the layers of drab fabric. Vincent was an old vicious bastard, he had spelled out the grim reality that his granddaughter was in love and eager to marry Steve. ‘Why are you staring?’ You asked tautly. ‘I never took the time to look at you before.’ Steve continued to observe you with creepy concentration. You were going to be his wife. He continued to mentally score your attributes. Shiny blackish brown. Dewy skin another plus in his book. Eyes that were soft and full of sadness. Steve saw the tears shining in your strained gaze. He had seen more than he wanted to see and he was angry with you for having so little confidence.

What did she have to be unhappy about? The lack of romantic gesture? What more could she ask from him? Wasn’t she getting the husband she wanted? Hadn’t Arthur Vincent effectively bought her husband for her? Steve thought to himself. That humiliating thought pierced through his heart like a poisoned arrow.

You were trembling. His hard self-assurance took you aback, you had assumed that the situation would bring down the barriers between them. ‘I didn’t want this…if there was any other way…’ Your nervous rant ran out of steam.

Steve was irked…his dumb handsome face had a cryptic look, he was not impressed by your claim. ‘But there isn’t. We should talk about our upcoming wedding, terms...’

‘What terms?’ you asked, lifting your long lashes.

‘Well this is an arranged marriage and we’re practically strangers. It will work better if we are honest with each other.’

You breathed in deeply. ‘Can’t we be friends?’

Lawyers from both sides were trying to drum up an agreement, on top of that his distressed mother and his guilt-ridden father were trying to come to terms with this new relationship that was forced upon him, your question struck. He thought that you were stupid. ‘Friends don’t marry and have children. I want to..no scratch that I need to know what you expect from me as your husband.’

You felt awkward at the mention of children.

‘I know that I’m not the wife you wanted. We will learn to manage as we go along.’

‘That is gonna be chaotic Y/N’

He reached for your hand. ‘I have a ring…it is my grandmother’s. If you don’t like it, we can always get a ring of your choice.' Showing you the ring he brought with him. ‘It’s perfect...’ you replied and nodded giving him your permission to slide the ring onto your finger. He slid the diamond ring on your finger. His gesture surprised you.

‘I wasn’t expecting this…’ you mumbled

Steve smiled tightly. What you didn’t know was Steve did not want to get an engagement ring for the sham of the marriage he was forced to be a part of, his mother, Sarah, had persuaded him to bring her mother’s ring. Sarah was concerned about whether you will like the ring or not.

‘Thank you…’ you said sincerely, you were hopeful about your marriage seeing Steve’s effort in something that was forced on both of you.

Steve was uncomfortable by the level of your enthusiasm. But then again Steve thought that it was because you loved him.

‘Cherry…’ Steve breathed with uncharacteristic awkwardness. ‘Can I call you that?’

‘Yes..yes you can….’you replied with hesitance, you hated your nickname, you wanted him to call you by your name but he still took the first step so you can bear the nickname.

‘I will try to be the best wife…’ you replied while twisting the ring around your finger.

Steve almost groaned out loud. He knew you wanted to hear him say the same thing but he could not lie to you. He didn’t want to marry you. Nor did he want a baby in this marriage.

Tags-

@austynparksandpizza

[consumeconstantly]

Innocence, avoidance

Summary: Jason Todd cracks crass jokes and dirty comments like they’re his lifeblood. It turns out, he’s just getting it out of his system before he sees his little sister again. (Or: Marinette gloms onto Red Hood after her parent’s death, and there’s no way anyone can stop her from being with her older brother.)

___________________________________________________

Jason Todd, AKA Red Hood, is not the kind of man people go to when they want to complain about their life problems. They go to him when they want a quick, oftentimes violent solution; Red Hood isn’t exactly a renowned empath. In comparison to his other Bat Family counterparts, he is at least 10 times more crass and almost 15 times more violent. 

It is accepted that although Red Hood makes situations turn out for the better, he is no shining paragon of human virtue and kindness. People trust him to watch their backs and not to fuck them over so long as they’re working within his very clearly defined set of values, but he’s just not the kind per person that anyone would entrust their kid to during their Friday date night.

Until somebody does.

The door to the warehouse is already open, and he has a gun in his hand, ready to threaten the little crowd he’s gathered today when a woman hops out of her car and shoves a pig-tailed girl with wide blue eyes and an almost blindingly neon pink outfit towards him.

“There you are, you weren’t at the drop site!” says the woman, who instantly begins to back away from the two of them once the little girl picks herself up off the ground that she landed on. Red Hood notes the license of the getaway car, making a mental reminder to deal with them later, but the car makes tracks. The little girl frowns at the disappearing car, eyes the gun in his hand, then decides that she’s going to stay put. 

Red Hood looks at the rabble that has convened in the warehouse, down at the little girl, then back again. There are at least five people in the room that are eyeing the little girl greedily, and he’s sure that if he just lets her go, she’ll be captured by one of them faster than he can bat an eye. He doesn’t exactly have time to put the girl in a safe place, not when it’s taken him months and a good number of heads in order to draw these people here. 

She looks wary of the gun and of him, but not scared. Everyone else? Half of them look like they’re about to burst out laughing, and the other half have looks that he’s eager to wipe off their faces.

“Aww, look at that! Hood has finally found his way into the dark side of the business. What’s next, prostitution?”

Without hesitation, he shoots with deadly accuracy at the man’s hand. The man keels, bending over and clenching his bloodied appendage. Other than the man’s screams, the room goes completely silent.

Red Hood casts another glance at the little girl, who has, slowly but surely managed to inch away from him and into a safer position. She’s holding onto her sparkly purple plastic backpack like it’s the only thing that’s keeping her alive. Smart kid, not to run. Or was it dumb? He wouldn’t shoot her, and he’d take out anyone else who tried to, but the girl didn’t know that. She probably just assumed that she was going to his next target.

“All of you shut up while I deal with this.” He inhales deeply and kneels down to get on eye level with the girl. Not that she can see much of his eyes, given his helmet, but still.

He has half a mind to go after the woman, but he’s not about to leave the little girl amongst the group of criminals that are gathered in the warehouse with him. Briefly, he wonders how the hell that couple even knew that he was going to be here tonight. He also wonders what he’s going to do with the kid. “What’s your name, kiddo?”

She looks up at him, hands clenched around a plastic pink backpack with some kid’s cartoon on the back, then looks out at the people that have gathered. There’s a moment of silence, and Red Hood is sure that she’s weighing her current options. Smart kid. Eventually, she shifts her body weight closer to him, apparently drawing the conclusion that he is the safer option than the other people who are here tonight. Smart kid.

“It’s Marinette, sir.”

No last name. Not sure if that’s a pointed decision to keep her identity at least partially concealed, or just because she doesn’t have one.

“And those weren’t your parents?” It stands to reason that the people in that care aren’t her parents, but he needs to make sure.

Marinette clenches her backpack tighter. “No, sir.”

“Where are they?” He has a sinking suspicion if those weren’t her parents, and she’s not up in tears, asking for a phone to call them, that--

“They’re dead, sir.”

Sometimes, Jason wishes he could be wrong on things like this. 

“Then who were they? And don’t call me sir. Too formal.” 

“My mom’s... second cousin, I think? I never met her before, but I got sent here anyway.” 

One of the men shifts. He’s one of the men who Red Hood pegged as a possible child trafficker. Underneath his helmet, Jason’s eyes narrow. He now has a fairly good idea of how the couple figured out that he was going to be here tonight.

“Do you know how to get back home?”

At that, Marinette's mouth almost twitches up into a smile. “No sir. I don’t think there’s a home to go back to, anymore.”

Red Hood sighs. Putting the information presented to him together, he quickly comes to the conclusion that Marinette’s parents have died recently and that nobody in her immediate family has found out about their passing, or they don’t want her. Somehow, the couple picked her up-- possibly when she was going to a friend’s house, judging by the whole school girl look she has going on-- and thought she would fulfill the trafficking requirements laid out to them. 

That means that there aren’t a lot of options available to her. He can redirect her to the foster care system, but everybody knows foster care messes up kids permanently. Even though she looks to be pretty street smart, he couldn’t just let her live out on the streets in good conscience. Her outfit looks too clean for her to ever have lived in poverty, and she definitely checks the box for a lot of the trafficking rings that have been popping up recently. Mixed descent, the possibility to be pretty when older, and very, very pure. She’d get picked up off the streets within hours if she just let her be. 

He decided that he’s let her have the final say. “What do you think I should do in this situation?”

She shuffled her pink ballet clad shoes, eyes darting to the sides. He had to give the girl this much at least; even though she had the whole innocent look going for her, she was very aware of her surroundings. Her body language implied that she didn’t believe him to be that much of a threat— and in any other case, he’d fault her for that, but given that let their surroundings were a drug den he’d let it go— and tilted herself so she could have as many people in her sights as possible. “Sir, I think as long as you could get me out of here safely, I’ll figure out how to take care of myself.”

The man Jason was watching, the possible trafficker, tensed. Yeah, Jason is definitely going to have to take care of him later. This kind of a reaction as good as cements the suspicions he’s had. 

“Tell you what, princess. Do you mind waiting outside for me? I’ll help you out once I’m done here.”

Marinette eyed the rest of the room. “How long will you take?”

She’s asking all the right questions. Maybe it will be easy for her to fit into the slums of Gotham. 

“Not long,” Red Hood promised. “Ten minutes at most.”

The collection of people who have gathered in the warehouse all swallowed uncomfortably. Everybody knew that when Red Hood dealt with things quickly, it typically ended in copious amounts of bloodshed and shock. 

“Okay,” Marinette paused, grip loosening on her backpack. “Ten minutes.

#

Red Hood doesn’t particularly want to have Marinette around for the violence that’s about to occur, but she’s already seen him shoot one person, so it’s too late to shield her innocence. And violence? It’s a slippery slope.

He makes quick work of the room; half of the people he brought out here, he kills off directly. The other half are made to watch as the people they’ve associated with for years die in front of their eyes. This is a power play. A way to… persuade them to reform. Because the people he’s left alive? Red Hood has left them alive for two reasons. One. They’re not nearly as bad as most of the higher ups in Gotham. Two. If he kills all of the people who have dabbled in anything bad, the chain will be completely messed up, and there will be too much room for unknown variables to make their way up the ranks. He wants people he can control. And the people he’s left alive? He can keep all of them in line.

Marinette is not waiting outside for him. They’re right next to Crime Alley. This is not going to end well.

#

He’ll give the little girl props for somehow managing to avoid his detection. 

To be more precise, he’s hoping that she’s simply avoiding his detection, and hasn’t gotten swept up in something bad. 

It takes Jason three hours-- three hours-- to find the girl who can’t be much older than ten. Probably not even ten, judging by her size. 

“You’re lucky it’s me finding you, and not someone else, Pixie.” He finally catches a glance of her glaringly sparkly backpack, complete with fairies and unicorns covered in some sort of holographic overlay.

Marinette immediately backs up, looking definitively worse for the wear. She’s gained rips in her clothes and  a nasty looking scraped knee. Her face loses all color when she sees him. “S- sorry, sir. I swear I wasn’t running away, it’s just that there was someone outside who tried to grab me, and--”

If Jason didn’t know better, he’d believe the girl. 

However, he does have a decent number of connections, and those connections ensured that nobody was going to be able to come near the warehouse once his ‘meeting’ started. Though, he’ll have to have a talk with them, given that someone tried to pass the goods right before it started. Jason is fairly sure that the couple has been apprehended by now, but checking later tonight won’t hurt. 

Which means Marinette made the decision to run.

Again, that would have been a very, very smart decision had she not found herself in Crime Alley of all places. It looks like she’s learned a little bit about why she should stay away from places like this.

“It’s fine, Pixie. Like I said earlier, just call me Red Hood, or Hood. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Marinette balks.

Jason sighs. “Look, I know it’s hard to believe, but you can trust me. I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do. All I want is to see you safe.”

“But,” Marinette bites her lip. Her eyes drop to the guns at his side. That’s… that’s a good reason not to trust him, to be honest. If he were in her position, he’d already be running.

“Do you have anyone you can contact? Anyone you trust? I can take you to them.”

She’s starting to tear up, and god, Jason cannot deal with crying children. Marinette’s big, blue eyes and pigtails and her general smallness. He just can’t. “Please don’t cry. Please don’t cry. What, do you-- do you want a cookie or something? I can bring you to a bakery before we talk? Sweets are supposed to cheer kids up, right?”

Marinette lets out a watery laugh. 

“I like macaroons,” she offers.

#

“So, how old are you?”

In the warmth of the bakery, Marinette looks markedly more relaxed. She went to the bathroom to clean her face and cut off, and now she looks like the poster child of one of those band aid ads. Lively, a little mischievous, and, you know, a child.

She takes a delicate bite of the shortbread cookie-- not a macaroon, there aren’t many reputable bakeries in Gotham that are close and have French pastries. “Nine and a half.”

Oh man, she’s younger than Replacement. 

“You’ve really got no family here? None at all? No friends you can call?”

“No, I’m from France.”

Well, that certainly answers a lot of questions. But brings up additional ones. “You speak English very well.”

“Maman and Papa ran a very popular bakery. We got a lot of foreigners. Before we moved to Paris, we lived in New York.” She takes a sip of her drink, whipped cream stuck on her nose. “And I don’t remember anyone from New York. We moved to Paris when I was three.”

Jason sighs. “What do you want to do?”

“Maman said that if I were ever left on my own, my only job was to survive by any means.” 

“That’s…” He tries to find the right words. “Interesting advice.”

In what parallel universe do parents of a bakery in Paris-- one of the major cities in the world with the lowest crime rates--tell their children to survive by any means?

“Did she tell you how?”

Marinette tilts her head, pigtails bouncing. “She told me to trust my instincts and never to trust the police.”

Great. That explains why she didn’t ask for someone’s phone to call the police. Not that the police in Gotham are the best people to go to for a case like Marinette’s, but then again, there’s not really anybody good to go to for a case like hers. 

Vague advice is the best way to get a kid killed. But since Marinette isn’t already dead, it stands to reason that her instincts haven’t failed her yet, and he really does have no clue what to do with her.

He briefly contemplates taking her to Bruce, but strikes the idea down almost instantly. Marinette fits all of the requirements to become a Robin. Tragic backstory, black hair, blue eyes. He’s not going to put another child into Bruce’s hands just so he can ruin their life by not doing his job. Besides, Bruce doesn’t know he’s alive yet, and he wants to keep it that way for now.

“Then what do your instincts tell you to do?”

Does he feel like an idiot for asking a nine year old that? Yes, but what else is he supposed to do? Taking care of kids was never part of the job description when he signed up to be Red Hood. (Then again, it wasn’t like there was a job description to begin with.)

Marinette takes another bite of one of the cookies on her plate. “They tell me to stick close to you.”

Even better. She’s imprinted on him.

@jasonette-july-2k20

[hag-rambling-on]

Boys hc’s feats Diaspro

Riven

Riven Cassios was born to two Omega prisoners. What surprised everyone, because staying healthy enough to carry out a pregnancy on a planet that sucks your magic is... Obviously the Rocalucce Council keeps an eye on the planet, they took him out of there because no child would pay because his parents, and he has been in foster homes, although it doesn't last long since the requirements for his adoption were more strict than most -which in the long run the Council would realize was COUNTERPRODUCTIVE for his character-. That is what Darcy detects and why the high spheres are somewhat "permissive" with him.

His mother died giving birth, it was already miraculous that she lived so long and ‘bout his father I think I'm going to kill him too, maybe. The father I assure you would be love him (he called Riven to himself Daru, his gift) thought was not his initial idea, the mother always saw him as an experiment (she was a witch who followed the Ancenstresses). Ohm, also in his blood there are dark elves and giants.

Riven surname is actually the name of the galaxy where he was born or a derivation of it, as is common for orphans. So the boy knows NOTHING about the above.

Timmy and Riven are the only specialists who have passed the full course at Fonterossa, without skips. In the end they bond about it. Timmy gives him a recommendation to work as a part-time mechanic at Magix (good boy face, he knows how to use it)

Timmy

Timeus “tshhhh, it’s Timmy.... i’m not my grandfather” fulfills the physique requisits as much as any other specialist, but it is true that his physique and abilities, adapted to the distance, give him a more "feline" air.

He is also the one who wakes up at night and moves silently, scaringthe rest of the squad if they wake up unexpectedly.

His glasses are for both sight and Aura Vision. His parents are rich enough to pay for an operation, but since he would have to wear glasses for his ability anyway, why? Practical guy.

And the glasses make people look down on him, something that when his self-esteem is high and he’s being rational and cunning he knows it’s wonderful, although many others times may hurt. He is mostly leprechaum with something human.

Nex

Nex is still a Paladin born in Lymphea and with blood of literally ALL races. He adapts well to any planet, although not its people at first. His race mix makes his face “charismatic”, like always draw attention even if people don’t know very well why they are draw.

His ability is Delay Sleep. It allows him to hold over his need to sleep for days without going crazy or losing physical capacity or needing many days to recover (he can stay awake for 5 or more days, sleep 8-10 hours and go back to being his usual self). Sometimes he does not control this well and has plenty of energy in need of drop but he is the one who has the most control of his ability.

One of his parents spent time in Rocalucce Fortress as a "guest" so at times he feels like he has something to prove.

Roy

Coming from Andros, most of the population are merpeople with a few elves and humans. which avoids the 100% aquatic population. Roy, unlike Aisha is mostly human-elf with a bit of merpeople in a grandgrandgrand level. One of his parents comes from one of the colonies on the moons of Andros and he was born there although they moved almost immediately.

Roy’s paladin ability being the canon “Triton Aura” used to breathe underwater. That and learning to swim and drive all kinds of water vehicles was what made him feel "adapted" to Andros. But he always try to be useful.

He only became a Paladin at the beginning of season 6, and it was visiting him that the season began. He’s bi but he thinks of himself as straight.

Nabu

I plead guilty to liking Nabu even though I shipped Aisha with Flora and Nex. So I have a hard time thinking about him. Except, EVERY time I try to think of something. EVERY TIME. Rapunzel. So, he will never cut his hair.

But with an island instead of a tower and a babysitter (male and wizard) more dumbledoor (not, actually more like Newt Scamander mentor like).

Sometimes he misses out on some "social customs/things/normalcies" whatever is called due to his little dealing with people. He may seem naive or that don't understand sarcasm. He understands and learns quickly, but people were very respectful to him and there are things he is not used to. 1/2 merpeople 1/4 half elf 1/4 human as both of his parents are half merpeople.

He likes to swim as much as any merpeople, but they didn't let him do it much because they were afraid he would go away or lost, so he usually went off "to the heights", going up to the rooftops and things like that.

Helia

Helia is trans but keeps his first name as chosen name which I don’t understand. Also he has formally tried study practically everything he wanted. Specialist, Paladin, Wizard (of Threads). Painter.

He can't make up his mind, his family hurries him just to STOP making them dizzy and spend a few years with everything -and actually end a single “major” choice- he wants to experience, that he has a very long life and can dedicate a few decades to Everything and they can support them. Well, more or less, but he was vip pass to all these options because family connections.

Long story about Sky, Brandon and Dia.

Sky, Brandon and Diaspro's first meeting was a show. Has it all. Costumes, lies. Confusion. Kidnapping. And that is why Diaspro insists on the wedding (I would like to mention that although I don’t know her romantic orientation yet surely bi or lesbian, here, Dia is asexual. And Sky is non-binary but his parents do not approve so go for he/him to avoid problem with them. And here our story begins)

A bit of background. Brandon actually hails from Isis, the son of the military and was chosen by the whimsical chibi!Diaspro as a playmate and future personal guard (because then she believed that touching children gave "lice" and her character and age did not have the 18like wall of royal education, then in a random encounter he called her among many things what Dia's mind translated in a strange way "uncracked geode", which is a double-edged compliment in Isis that many would not accept from strangers but she liked it). Rarely they would end up becoming friends in the end. When the series begins, Brandon and Diaspro keep up with calls, which will prevent Dia's reaction with Bloom on the one hand.

On a visit (officially only from the kings of Erakyon to to the kings of Isis) for the children to get to know each other, somehow, they all ended up happily dressing up, with Sky and Dia looking like two pretty princesses and Brandon assessing whether his dress would be green or yellow because Diaspro insisted that she and Sky had already taken the blue and red and so it would be more "thematic".

Here began the first of many attacks on Sky's head, because before it had begun to be rumored (true) that Erendor had fertility problems (btw his race dwarf-high elf and Samara is leprechaum-high elf, Sky gots mostly high elf part). When they came in and saw two girls and a boy, Brandon, not the highest IQ, but one of the wisest of his team and definitely the best fighter, played along so he ended up pretending to be Sky (also helps that his hair colors looks like Erendor) Everything worked out well in the end, although Brandon ended up as Sky's squire (better for him, worse for Diaspro), and Diaspro made Sky promise that he owed her a big favor. Anyway they grew up over the years in friendship and they both knew they were not of each other's true love interest, but, they could put up with each other (because that's what royalty does).

Sky and Diaspro have a sonorous (affectionate) war over Sky's hair to annoy/exasperate Brandon. Diaspro always complains that he doesn't grow it and it would look great then. Sky says that he is fine as with his hair at it is (it's actually Erendor's thing). The soft part of Diaspro that she doesn't usually show off has taught Sky many ways to style his hair and subtly put on makeup to look more feminine if he wants to.

How I am amused by that image from wikipedia and that Diaspro entered Sky's guard so quickly. Another headcanon is that Diaspro would sometimes change her appearance a bit and go into Sky's guard to be with Brandon to annoy him and Sky, when Brandon has to talk about her without giving details, she is simply "his sister Charbonne" (she hates that alias). They were discovered when she was 15 years old but she had already trained and the royal families considered it a sign to formalize the engagement since “they search each other” (people only sees what they wants).

The Diaspro family is not good, first Brandon was a shield (emotional) because as a child they were not “that” bad and then Sky joined him (physically and politically), handling things with Bloom so like that was not a good idea when the floor was full of cracked bottles.

... omg i’m sorry you three i’m sorry what I did to you

Also, Brandon's ability as a green user is very interesting and helps with this a lot. I temporally call it “Keypoint Warning” and I like it a lot, it's like a "tic" that tells him "be careful, what you say, what you do now, even the smallest thing could change everything for youself (for better or for worse)”. He actually has a scar on his forehead (not a lightning bolt) that his hairstyle hides after “that” day but a little less fine on the words and the kidnappers might have broken his mouth so... His parents have been cured (spoiler: no) of heart attack since then.

[liarsweapon]

TEST SUBJECT: D. LEWIS. 

NOTES: EYE LOST DURING TRANSFORMATION PROCESS. CADOU IMPLANTED INTO BULDGE OF HER SHOULDER. SCARS SPREADING ACROSS HER ARM AND CHEST. 

AN UNSUITABLE VESSEL FOR EVA.

HEISENBERG REQUESTED THE TECH GIRL AS AN ASSISTANT. WILL DEPOSIT HER TO HIM. 

Dr. Darcy Jennifer Lewis

D.O.B: April 1st, 1988

Occupation: Former intern for Dr. Erik Selvig, assistant for Dr. Jane Foster, and assistant to Tony Stark. Bachelors in political science and a doctorate in Astrophysics. 

Height: 5′3”

Weight: 72.6kg

Relatives: Bella Smith ( Biological mother ), Jason Lewis ( Father, listed on the birth certificate but not biological, deceased ), Mark Thomas ( Father, adopted, estranged), Darren Thomas ( Uncle, adopted, estranged ), Emmett Todd ( Step-father ), Daniel Lewis ( half-Brother, estranged ) 

Adopted from London, England from a friend of her father’s, Darcy was the second child of Jason Lewis and Mark Thomas. Daniel, as Jason’s biological son, was already part of the deal when Mark started dating Jason. When Bella became pregnant and called Jason to see if he’d be interested in another child, he instantly agreed to both take her and be signed onto the birth certificate, even though he was not the biological father. Having agreed to this with an ex fling that he hadn’t known Jason was still in contact with, Mark wasn’t exactly happy, but wanted Jason to be happy. 

She spent the first nine years of her life in Brooklyn, top of her class in school, friends, always a happy little girl. Her elder brother lathered her in attention, and she believed she couldn't be luckier.

When Mark's brother hit a rough patch, he was invited to live with them. Always bringing a different woman home, often drunk out of his mind, as well as those he brought home. At one point, Darcy came home from a friend's house, finding her uncle passed out on the staircase to the apartment. She tried to wake him up, and help him get inside, but he didn't realize, pushing her off of him. She fell off the stairs, onto a pile of broken pipes, one of the pipes lodging into her side. Her brother came home around that time, under the impression that their uncle attacked her, Daniel briefly fought with him before grabbing her, taking her to the hospital.

Darcy had no idea what her injury started. Passed out for a few days, she woke up to learn that her parents broke up-- Jason deciding that Mark's brother was too much of a risk factor for his children, and Mark deciding his sibling was more important than his boyfriend or children. Jason took both the kids and left, Mark choosing only to keep in contact with Daniel. Darcy lost contact with her school friends at that point. 

Despite being the one to take his sister to the hospital after what happened, Daniel blamed Darcy for what happened to their family. The second he went to college, he stopped returning his sisters calls. 

She was in high school when her father had met another man. Darcy adored him, she thought she could talk to him about anything. 

She was always skilled at computers, hacking being a personal specialty, and a method in school for earning a bit of extra cash-- often when significant others wanted in on their partner’s myspace or facebook, see what they were doing with others. As the internet grew, Darcy grew her skills with it.

Her father, Jason, died in a car crash during her second year at university. She still has Emmett, but misses Jason every day.

Choosing to major in political science, she needed extra credits to get her degree. She chose a position with Dr. Jane Foster, as her assistant. While Jane didn't seem to care much for the girl, Darcy, with her anxious attachment style, became extremely attached to Jane. Enough so that, even after she got her degree in political science, she continued on as Jane's assistant. Always trying to do her best to make Jane happy. Darcy always considered them friends, even though Jane didn’t seem to. 

When Jane disappeared, Darcy spent over a year trying to find her. With the realization that Jane either died, didn't want to be found, or just didn't want to deal with Darcy anymore. Ever the one to act optimistic (where she could), she tried to move on. 

She got a job with Tony Stark, as his new Personal assistant while Pepper runs the company. During this time, she went back to university, eventually obtaining a doctorate in Astrophysics. 

Hired to research an anomaly in eastern europe in August of 2019, that would be the last time Darcy was technically alive. 

A few days spent interviewing villagers, and a few nights studying the stars. She determined the anomaly wasn’t related to space, but some kind of fungus. Something, or someone, was causing it to spread. It manipulated the villagers perceptions, and seemed to make them worship this ‘mother miranda’. 

When she was putting her equipment away, she heard a growl in the forest. Horror movies always told her to run away, and though she tried, an overwhelming desire to follow it took control. 

The growls grew louder, flesh growing colder as she shivered, trying desperately to turn and run away. A large wolf-like creature caught her eye, and she swallowed. It growled, hissed, turned its head to face her. 

She couldn’t even blink before it had her on the ground, head hit on a rock beneath her as the wolf gouged into her ribs. She could barely breathe, a deep voice calling for a Vârcolac. Vague understanding of someone speaking to her, and a female voice laughing in her head. Stating how easy the impulsive ones are. 

The venom hasn’t taken her yet. She may just be the candidate I need. 

She awoke to ropes tying her down. A black substance grinded into her gash from the wolf earlier. Panic rising when a woman comes closer, some creature in her hand. Fear makes Darcy’s lungs shut down when she sees the hole pierced into her shoulder, the parasite’s long limb sliding inside, under her skin and burning her. She wanted to scream, but her throat was dry. Worm-like creatures sliding upwards, one bursting out through her right eye. She tries to shut the lids, but they’re forced open by the woman. Watching far too closely as Darcy’s skin continues to crawl, burning, feeling like she’s being devoured.

Everything went black.

When she’d awaken again, perched up in a chair in some sort of factory, a man worked at some type of robotics. Curiosity held onto her, and she shifted to get a better look. Was it just a nightmare? Her right eye hurt, but she couldn’t see just yet how bloodshot wouldn’t begin to cover how it looked. Rather blood coagulated into a sort of new eye. He seemed to hear her, and grunted something in response, tossing something at her where she sat. 

Grasping it, she sees something else that burns fear into her form. Her right arm, welted halfway down, like worms beneath her skin, raising it to where a hole burns her shoulder. She wants to scream, wants to cry, panics as she stands. The man stands, and turns her way, a grin on his face as he looks her over. 

       “ Listen up, I saw what you were doing out there in the woods, and that psycho bitch was gracious enough to let me take you off her hands. I’m going to need you to do something for me. After what she’s done to you, I don’t think you’ll complain too much. “

[mischiefandspirits]

Last Laugh (1 of 3)

“Oh, I noticed,” Red X said lowly, tossing the staff aside. “What that idiot was thinking letting Flamebird send you all the way across the country right after Batkid got blown up, I’ll never know.”

Robin flinched back at the accusation before his fists clenched at his sides. “Then you’ll be happy to know no one sent me here. It’s just where I ended up when Batman decided he didn’t want to work with me anymore and tossed me out.”

The story of how Dick ended up with the Titans in Batkid and Robin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Richard?”

…

“Richard, may I come in?”

…

“If you do not want me to come in then you need to tell me.”

…

“I’m coming in.”

Light filled the room for a moment then disappeared. The bed shifted and a hand settled on Dick’s back.

…

“Barbara told me what happened.”

Heat. A ringing in his ears. “BATKID!” “Red Wing, please!” Digging. Bodies. “No. Jason.” A mother and son… or a pair of acrobats… Blood. Footprints leading to tire tracks. “My son, I’m so sor-Robin? Robin, get back here!”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner.”

“Why can’t I come with you and Jon?” “You’re not quite ready for a space mission yet, Richard. I’ve talked to Father, though. He said you could patrol with him and Jason until I return so long as you two don’t get into too much trouble.” “We’re not that bad.”

“I’m sorry,” Dick said, his voice hoarse.

“Imagine how mad he’ll be if I’ve clipped the wings of a baby bat and a baby bird on the same day!” Zap! “Haha! Aw Jeez, I hit Batkid harder than that!” “Shut up!” “So,” a groan, “the first Demon Child taught you a,” a hiss, “a few tricks, hahaha!” “I said shut! Up!” “Hahahaha!” “ROBIN!” “B?” “He’s had enough.” “He killed -” “I know. I… I know.” “Don’t worry, Boy Blunder, you’ll join him soon enough!” “What are you talking ab-” “Robin! Move now!” An explosion.

“I killed him.”

The hand started rubbing circles into Dick’s back. “That’s not true.”

“If I hadn’t attacked him like that, if I hadn't beaten him as bad as I did, he would have made it out.”

“He was the one who set off the explosion, Richard. That’s not on you.” The hand shifted up to Dick’s shoulder and tugged him closer to the warm presence next to him.

He pressed his face into the warmth as another hand came up to card through his hair. ���B thinks it’s my fault.”

“Father doesn't think anything right now. He’s still processing his grief. We all are. You are not at fault for what happened. If Joker is dead -- and his body still hasn’t been found so we don’t even know if he is finally gone -- then it is no one's fault but his own.”

Dick shook his head. “I shouldn’t’ve attacked him.”

There was a pause, then a sigh. “No, you should not have. It was extremely reckless and we… You could have gotten yourself killed. You are extremely lucky Joker had not expected you to be with Father so you were able to catch him off guard. Impulsive behavior… It’s already taken Jason, you can’t let it take you too.”

Dick’s fingers dug into his calves from where his arms were wrapped around his legs.

“I found my mom.” “Batkid? B said -” “It’s okay. She said Joker isn’t here. It’s safe. We’re going to talk inside so no one sees us.” “But -” “I can talk her around, Red Bird. I know I can. Please, don’t tell B. She’s my mom.” “O-okay. Just be careful.” “It’ll be fine. She said he won’t be back for hours.”

She lied.

“It wasn’t his fault.”

“I-That’s not what I mea-”

“Yes, it was.”

Another sigh. The warmth moved away so the hand in his hair could come down to cup his cheek. It brushed away his tears and tilted his head up, but he didn’t look at the face hovering over him. “Richard -”

“I wanna be alone now. Please.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m tired.”

There was a beat, then the hands and warmth and face moved away. “Alright. Get some rest. I have to go talk to Father. If… I am here if you need anything.”

Dick nodded and laid down with his back to the warmth.

The light came and went.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When they returned from Ethiopia, Bruce told Dick he’d be benched for a month. It was partly to give his injuries from the fight with Joker time to heal and partly as punishment for running off to said fight. Damian had agreed when he arrived back on Earth a week later and Dick accepted the punishment without complaint.

By the end, though, he was itching to get out of the manor. He hated being trapped in one place for too long. With the media going crazy over Jason’s death, Bruce had managed to arrange for him to finish the last few weeks of school from home and Damian decided they would remain at the manor instead of heading back to their house in Somerset. It was a longer commute to work and patrol for Damian and meant Dick couldn’t run around the neighborhood to visit with his friends, but it was also more secure against paparazzi.

Dick wouldn’t complain since he knew he deserved it, but it didn’t stop him from feeling trapped.

On the day he was meant to go back on patrol, he was skipping through the halls in anticipation of stretching his wings and releasing the tension that had built up under his grief and guilt. He went looking for Damian once he got home to see if he wanted to spar before dinner. When he couldn’t find him in his room or studio, he went to see if Alfred, Bruce, or Selina knew where he was.

“- for a month. I think that’s a fair amount of time.”

Dick perked up when he heard Damian’s voice and ran up to the door to Bruce’s study.

“I don’t mean he should stay on the bench. I meant Robin should be taken off the roster altogether.”

He froze, hand inches from the doorknob.

“I know he shouldn’t have gone after Joker -”

“It’s not just that. Dick… He never should have been brought into this life. He’s not like us and he was too young.”

“I was younger than him when I started out as Batkid,” Damian snapped.

“You were raised by assassins. He had a normal life before you involved him. He deserves a normal life. I know you wanted to help him, but this isn’t the way.”

Bruce was angry. Dick had known that. He didn’t think Bruce would take Robin away from him though. Robin was… his purpose. His place in the family. Without Robin, he didn’t have any reason to be there. And if he wasn’t there…

“Heard Wayne’s taking Grayson.” “Really? Knew his old man liked strays, but I thought he stuck to animals. Why’s he coming for the kid?” “To honor Brucie’s memory? Hell if I know.” “Well, whatever reason, I hope the kid can behave.” “Yeah. Lord knows Wayne hates people at the best of times, can’t imagine how he’ll take to having a brat running around.” “He’d probably return the kid the first time he acts up. Doubt the poor ***** will get another chance too.”

No, Dick couldn’t lose Robin. But Dick was Damain’s partner and Damian wouldn’t let Bruce do that, right? Right?

Why wasn’t Damian saying anything?

“This is what Richard needs,” Damian finally said after a few moments, but the happiness at his words was overshadowed by the ice sliding down Dick’s spine from how calm Damian sounded.

Why wasn’t he mad anymore?

Was… Was he starting to think Bruce was right?

“No, it isn’t,” Bruce said.

“How is he any different than the rest of us?” Damian asked, voice still calm.

“You were raised by assassins. As was Cass. Duke was in a gang. Tim raised himself in that damn empty mansion and spent years trailing after us through Gotham’s streets with nothing but a camera. And Jason lived on those streets.”

Tearing up, Dick wrapped his arms around himself. He knew he wasn’t as smart or skilled as the others, but he’d thought…

“Dick might not have had a typical childhood, but he had a happy one. He grew up with an entirely different mentality than us. You saw how he looked when he went after Joker.”

Dick flinched. He remembered the rage that had flooded through him. He knew he shouldn’t have gone after Joker. That it was stupid and reckless and wrong. Not justified vengeance, just plain old revenge. The very thing Damian had tried to instill against when he’d started out.

But at the time all he could think was that Jason was dead, had been murdered like his parents, and his family kept dying around him and Joker was to blame. He hadn’t meant to go as far as he did, he hadn’t meant for Joker to die!

He just wanted everyone to be safe.

The worst thing, though, was that as much as he wasn’t proud of how he’d run off and put himself in danger, as terrified as he was that he had killed someone, he didn't regret what he’d done to Joker.

“He doesn’t belong in this life, Damian.”

Dick froze. No. No! Losing Robin was one thing, but to not belong…

“I understand.”

Dick staggered back, hand coming to his mouth as the tears fell. He quickly ran back the way he’d come before the sobs could start.

They couldn’t… They couldn’t!

It was one mistake! It was a bad one, but he knew the others had had bad mistakes too. They couldn’t get rid of him for that, right?

Except the others were Bruce’s sons, and he was just Damian’s foster kid. He thought it hadn’t mattered that he wasn’t really family on paper, but maybe it did.

“You’re not getting a family, circus freak.” “Yeah, foster kids ain’t family. They’re just a paycheck.” “Or some rich bastard’s charity case.” “Either way, no one actually cares about them even if they have to pretend to. And no one would care about someone like you.”

Dick barely stopped himself from slamming the door behind him as he staggered into a closet. He dropped to the floor, pressing his knees into his eyes.

He couldn’t go back to juvie. Losing Robin would be torture, but going back to that hellhouse would kill him. Maybe even literally.

He technically wasn’t as defenseless as he was last time. He was sure he’d probably be able to take anyone that tried to hurt him if he tried, but he wouldn’t be able to try. He wouldn’t be Robin going in. He’d be Dick Grayson, former foster son of Damian Wayne. He couldn’t use any of the skills he’d gained as Robin without risking his identity -- former identity -- and the identities of the rest of the Bats by extension. And he would never do that, even if they did return him.

No, he couldn’t go back to juvie, but where else could he go. It’d been made pretty clear both when he got there and when he left that there was nowhere else he’d be sent. Maybe Babs or Cass would take him? Or maybe they could talk Damian around? Duke, Steph, Tim, and Selina would help, right?

Unless they thought Bruce and Damian were right.

“I understand.”

No, they would talk them around. They had to.

Except Bruce and Damian -- like the rest of the family -- were stubborn. Would the others be able to talk them around before they shipped him off?

Maybe if he could buy them time…

He couldn’t go back to juvie.

Dick scrubbed his eyes and got up to slip out of the closet.

His first stop was the cave. He couldn’t grab his normal suit without anyone noticing, but the updated version had just finished testing and hadn’t yet been equipped with trackers. He stuck it into a lockbox alongside some gear.

Then he was up in his room. He stuck the box into a duffle bag with his travel toiletries.

Before he could grab anything else, there was a knock on his door.

He quietly zipped up the bag and knocked it under the bed as he called, “Who is it?”

“It’s me, Richard. Can we talk?”

Dick dropped onto the bed. “Yeah, sure.”

Damian came in with a plate of cookies.

Dick grabbed one, but didn’t press up against his guardian like he normally would.

“You already know why I’m here,” Damian sighed.

“I overheard you talking with Bruce. You’re…” He clenched his fingers around the cookie as he looked up at Damian. “Don’t do this, please. I can be better. I-I won’t do anything like this again, I swear! Please, you can’t! We’re a team. We’re partners! You said so yourself! You cant… you can’t just toss that aside! Toss me aside!”

“It’s not like that, Richard,” Damian said, setting down the plate.

“Then what is it like!” Dick snapped and jumped to his feet, placing them eye-to-eye.

“This life isn’t good for you,” the young man said, meeting his gaze. “Bringing you into it, it was a terrible error in judgment. Father is right. It’s not your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just doing what’s best for you.”

“It’s not like you forced me into it! I chose this! I want this!”

“You could have been killed, Dick!” Damian said, voice growing louder.

“I’m sorry! I let my emotions get the best of me! But it won’t happen again!”

“It’s over, Dick!”

“No! You can’t do this! I-I won’t let you! You can’t se-”

“Enough!” Damian shouted, then pressed a hand over his face. In a calmer voice, he said, “I’ve made my decision.”

“Dami, please!” Dick felt tears pricking at his eyes as Damian stood up and turned to leave.

“You’re going to stay here until after the funeral next week. We can talk more about what happens after once you’ve calmed down.”

“You can’t do this to me!”

“You’re better off this way.”

“Wayne is going to be the best chance you’re going to get, kiddo. The only good chance, honestly. I really hope this works out for you.”

“I hate you.”

Damian hesitated by the door, then shut it behind him.

Dick couldn’t go back to juvie.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lines quoted or rewritten:

"Imagine how mad he'll be if I've whacked two Boy Wonders on the same day!" - Joker ~ Joker: Last Laugh #6

"Aw... Jeez... I hit Jason a lot harder than that." - Joker ~ Joker: Last Laugh #6

"Bruce... You... You can't! We're a team. We're partners! You said so yourself!" - Dick ~ Robin: Year One #3

"This was all a terrible error in judgment. Gordon was right." - Bruce ~ Robin: Year One #3

"It’s over, Dick! You’re better off this way." - Bruce ~ Robin: Year One #3

[kimberly-spirits13]

Right Hand Man (Loyal to the End) Pt. 8

Pairing: Damian Wayne x reader

Synopsis: You were like Talia’s daughter. The only thing was that you weren’t and instead, you had grown up in the foster care system and at a young age were taken by and personally trained by Talia. Along the way, you meet Damian and the two of you start to work side by side and eventually, after some time become closer and closer. However, when disaster in the league strikes, you face balancing an old, forgotten life as a normal child and the burden of right hand to the demon heir.

Note: I know that this is long and that there are a good number of time skips, but I didn’t want to make this into a series and just wanted it as a long fic because .... well because I can lol

Also, I didn’t want to have Damian so young in this so just go with it. I’m thinking maybe early 15 or almost 16 at the most. Idk I just don’t like writing for young Dami.

Warnings: angst, almost losing someone, buildings on fire, bombs, the usual lol

Word Count: 2181

Masterlist for Series

Both you and Damian had now been secretly dating for two months. It was an exhausting game of cat and mouse of either running from his family, or the prying eyes of the press. You had just excepted at this point that this was just going to be a new normal for a long time. There was nothing you could seriously complain about much however. This was all you had wanted for years and if the company of clandestine meetings was going to be a center of attention in this relationship, that was what was going to happen.

        Dates were mainly just tea or coffee on the rooftops late at night for only a short amount of time if it was on patrol, and longer if it was at the manor. Right now, you were sitting in the library, laying in Damian’s lap, both reading your own books. No one but Alfred was in the manor however, you were sure that he knew about you and Damian. Light streamed in through the windows and silence blanketed the room as Damian ran his fingers through your hair, occasionally braiding it. You fiddled with the matching golden ring on your left ring finger some as he did this. This was the most relaxed you had been in years and you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

        He didn’t know this until recently, but the only professor that had ever lived was one that you had. Your voice professor used to braid your hair during warm ups. She was the closest thing that you had ever had to a mother and in return for this, you begged Talia to let her live. You decided not to make it out so that you trusted or cared for her, but rather that she had connections to people that the league could use. With this tactic, Talia actually allowed her to leave but under a life- long oath of secrecy to protect the league. You braid your own hair when you were stressed or anxious but it’s better having someone else do it. Damian only found out when you started braiding and braiding your own hair in the roof tops one night at the league, only to let the piece unravel and start again.

        “Beloved are you going to go on patrol tonight?” He asked breaking the silence.

        “Of course.” You answered, “Is there a reason you asked?”

        “No, I was just checking.”

        “...Damian, how long do you think we’re going to stay a secret? I’m not upset or anything of the sort, it’s just a bit exhausting sometimes.” You questioned, flipping the page of your book.

        “I don’t really know Beloved. How long do you think you’d want to stay like this?” Damian set down his book to give the conversation his attention seeing as this one was important.

        You audibly sighed as he started braiding a portion of your hair, twisting it around and then letting it lose again, “I don’t really know, 3 months at most maybe?”

        “Are you tired of seeing strangers online pine away after me?” He asked smirking.

        You rolled your eyes and jokingly slapped his arm making him laugh, “What about me? I’ve seen plenty of suitors for myself.”

        “Don’t remind me Y/N.”

        “Oh no, I’ll remind you. First there was one that actually messaged me asking if I was single. Oh, another that tweeted asking if I was single. Then, there was another that mailed a love letter to the man-“

        Damian cut you off, putting his hand over your mouth making you laugh. You sat up and sat crisscrossed in his lap facing him, running your fingers through his hair.

        “You didn’t really think you could shut me up that easily did you demon?” You asked quietly.

        “I’d gage you would find a way to get your point across any way you could General.” He kissed the corner of your lips which made you glare at him some before pulling him in for a real kiss.

        “Next time some girl gets a hold of you at a gala though, just make sure not to charm her for me, will you?”

        “Whatever you say.”

_______________________________________________________________________

        Patrol started off boring and uneventful. Nothing exciting was happening but for maybe a few ally level crimes. You and Damian were perched on the rooftops looking down at the city lights and occasional people. Damian had obviously gotten the whole Robin outfit, in his own version of course. You however, took the same style as your past uniform. It was similar in the sense that it was amour and a hood, you still had your knives and compartments, this time though, the color was different. He couldn’t see the look on your face through the mask you were wearing which covered your lower face to your eyes, but he was sure you were bored. He was going to start a conversation when the comms came on with Bruce talking loudly.

        “I need everyone at the Rosehill Apartments on 7th Street! There’s multiple bombs spread throughout the building, civilians are inside.”

        You looked at Damian who nodded at you before you both swung off the building.

        “ETA 2 minutes.” You replied back getting onto your own bike and speeding off towards 7th St. following Damian.

_______________________________________________________________________

        Upon arrival to the building, you could see that everyone else was already inside but for Nightwing who on crowd duty until you two had gotten there.

        “There’s one more bomb in the kitchens. Everyone else is either getting their own or helping the residences escape.”

        You looked around for an entrance that wasn’t in terrible condition. Once you found one you ran towards it at full speed with a bomb on your mind.

        “Stick close, the roof might not be stable anymore.” You said, “If the bomb goes off, I expect you to leave immediately.”

        “Beloved I’m not leaving you if anything happens.” Robin replied running beside you.

        You didn’t reply, instead bursting into the kitchen and jumping over one of the carts in the way of your path. Using the locator on your wrist device, you scanned the room stopping when it got a hit.

        “It’s in the freezer!” You ran over and opened the door into the large room, “Hold this open and make sure it doesn’t close, I’ll disarm the bomb.”

        Damian nodded and did what you said as you went inside and ripped open one of the floorboards to find a massive collecting of wires and buttons connected onto one device. The type of timebomb was one that you had seen plenty of times before in training and when you yourself had used them. Part of training was learning to make one so it wasn’t too terribly difficult to disarm this one. The hard part was getting out.

        “Y/S/H/N!” You heard from behind you as you were about to stand up, “The place is on fire.” Damian called out, “We have to leave!”         You turned around and saw the place ablaze. Damian already had his other mask up over his face so he could breathe when you got out of the freezer. The two of you started running out to find the hallway also up in flames.

        “Don’t come near the kitchens, the whole place is going up in flames.” You said, “Bomb has been disarmed however.”

        “Good, now get out of there.” Batman replied back.

        “Working on that.”

        You and Damian sprinted down the hallway making sure no one else was inside on your way out. Once in the lobby you turned hearing someone screaming from a room nearby.

        “I’ll be right back.” You said turning around locating the person who was a small child.

        “I can’t find my Mommy.” She said sobbing into your arms.

        “I promise you I’ll find her.” You said running back up front, “I’m going to give you to Robin and he’ll take you outside, I’ll find your mommy.”

        You reached the front of the building where Robin was, “Take her, she can’t find her mother, I’m going in after her.”

        “You can’t, the building is going to come down at any minute!” Damian said taking the girl in his arms.

        “I have to check, I can’t let her grow up without parents like I did.”

_______________________________________________________________________

        You ran inside not really aware of what was happening outside anymore. Looking around you saw no sign of anyone but that didn’t mean that they couldn’t be buried under something. As you did this, you pulled out the scanner again but this time had it scan for biological creatures instead of machinery. There was nothing at the point where you were. Going farther into the structure was a no go at this point but it was your only option.

        Outside, Damian was trying to find the girl’s mother in the crowd as he mentally cursed himself for allowing you to go inside. He should’ve done more, he could’ve done more but he didn’t. Running to the line of ambulances, he looked for someone that matched the girl’s description of her mother. When he finally found the person, he rushed over just in time for the lady to see her daughter and burst into tears. She hugged her daughter and thanked Damian for bringing her back to her before Damian rushed back to find you.

        “Y/N!” He screamed getting inside catching your attention.

        Further down the hallway you heard Damian yelling for you. You turned around and started headed quickly for him and once he saw you, he announced that they had found the mother outside of the building. The two of you started running for the exit when you looked up hearing a faint beeping. The exit was 50 feet ahead and the closer to it you got, the louder the sound.

        “Damian! There’s a bomb above us, I- I think it’s about to blow.” You said as pieces of wood from the building came down little by little, “5 seconds now!”

        Damian had a look of terror as he picked up the pace. You knew that both of you wouldn’t make it without a little boost so you got behind Damian and launched him out of the way where Nightwing was standing right as the building was coming down. The last thing you heard was a defining thunder and then the screams Damian who was kicking and trying to get away from Nightwing to go back for you.

        “Y/N is still inside you idiot let me go!” He sobbed trying to elbow his oldest brother in the rib.

        The second round of explosions came, only making the structure collapse more, fire raining down.

        “Beloved!” He screeched making Nightwing almost drop him in surprise at what he called you.

        He understood why Damian was fighting so hard now, but that didn’t mean that he could let him go. The rest of the family standing by heard it as well. It would’ve been hard to miss anyways.

        “You can’t go in after her!” Nightwing yelled over the explosion.

        “I have to! She’s the only one I have, I have to go! Let me go!” Damian got lose just as the dust was settling.

        He ran to where he last saw you and started digging, tears filling his eyes so that he couldn’t see. There was no chance you were still alive and if you were, it wouldn’t be for long. That was when he heard you try and move something. He was looking in the wrong place, only a few feet away. When he saw where you were, he lifted the piles of wood and debris off of you to find you badly injured and hardly awake.

        “Beloved stay awake for me okay?” He said lifting you up out of the rubble.

        There was a part of your side where you had gotten impaled. It didn’t look like it hit any vital organs, however, you were bleeding out rapidly.

        He swept the hair out of your face and gently held you to him as he ran for the Batmoblie quickly trailed by everyone else. With you in the backseat, Nightwing front, and Batman driving, you were quickly headed for the cave. Damian wrapped your wounds tightly and held your head up in his lap checking your pulse every few seconds.

        “How is she?” Bruce asked sparing a glance at the back seat.    

        “Unwell, I-I don’t know how she’s still alive.” Damian responded.

        “Enhanced strength from the pit.” You groaned some in pain.

        “What the hell?!” Dick turned around to see you trying to sit up, “Enhanced strength my ass, how many times did you take a dip?”

        That earned a sharp glare from Damian and a reprimand from Bruce. He apologized realizing that he overstepped.

        “Beloved don’t move like that, just stay down.” Damian said gently, “You’ll only hurt yourself more.

        Getting to the cave, you don’t remember much, just waves of pain and floating in and out of consciousness. The only part that you really remember was the worst part, but that was later to come when everyone really thought you would die.

Tag List-

@we-want-mini-mini​ @a-door-into-my-mind​ @idkmanicantenglish​ @queengeorgiaaa​ @lucy-roo​ @wolfiemichele​ @grey-water-colors​ @random-fandom-girl-24​ @crumpets-are-better-with-jam​

[faelune-home]

FFXIV Write 2021 #1: Foster

(a/n: I’m looking forward to spending this year’s FFXIV Write fleshing out Fhara a lot more, especially since I feel like I’ve gotten her a bit more in line with how I want to write her lately ^-^ The individual events I wrote last year still apply to her character, but from here on, I’m gonna be a bit more attentive with the writing and tying it into her overall character and backstory and relations with other characters.

This first piece is a backstory piece, using the meanings “to care for” or “to raise a child that’s not their own” from Foster, relating to the people Fhara knew most in her time growing up in her village.

None of the seeker names used here have a clan marker at the start, partly to denote the closeness Fhara would have for them...and partly me as the author cheating so I don’t have to worry about what seeker clans live on Thavnair :’D Seeker folk are spread out enough that I could probably choose any one and it’d fit, but I’d rather wait till we go to Thavnair and see what kinds of folk might live there first.

Word count: 1172)

~~~

The fleeing remnants of her birth village were graciously taken in by a small seeker village in Thavnair, nestled in the rainforests. Originally only offering temporary aid until the Ilsabardian folk could regain their strength and recover from their ordeal, the two tribes quickly built a rapport together, and the arrangement grew into a permanent home for the dispersed keeper families.

It was the life she grew up in; primarily a hunter village with trading connections to other towns, and more distant connections with the larger city of Radz-at-Han further away. Many of the people Fhara knew there would come to be like family to her, especially when she had so little family as it was.

Fhara never knew her parents. Her aunt, Khona, became her caretaker in their absence.

Khona gave her niece love. She gave Fhara comfort and warmth, protection from the shadows that frightened the girl, and laughter to lighten her spirits through thunderstorms, and bandages and kisses to make Fhara’s scrapes and bruises ache no more. Khona gave her a nickname, cute and small much like the girl herself when she was young, one that Fhara carried with her throughout her life.

“Your mother would call you her little Fufu, even when you were only a scant few hours old.”

Her aunt gave her memories and tales of a mother Fhara would never know. Aching confessions that she was always so much like the woman, from her image to her mannerisms. Fhara’s desire to run around helping 5 people at the same time until she stumbled and got lost in the rush, or the way her ears flattened against her head when she was in trouble alongside a little guilty pout - “You remind me so much of your mother.” 

Fhara was never certain how she felt about those stories, having minimal connection to the woman in her aunt’s recollections. She let her aunt have those reminiscent moments, more for Khona’s own sake to remember a lost sister than Fhara’s desire to know of her mother. There were rarely any tales of her father, other than that her mother thought fondly of the man, a rare fifth son to his family - “She would call him her darling Sae.”

Then there was Leytai, the woman that acted as a wet nurse to Fhara when the keepers first arrived, providing for the newborn where her aunt couldn’t, having had her own child only a few scant weeks beforehand. Even into Fhara’s toddler and childhood years, Leytai was someone Fhara considered a mother figure other than her own aunt, always gladly taking the energetic child into her own home and caring for her whenever Khona was busy. 

Gifts of flower hair clips and cute dresses, and later her more practical training gear for hunting practices were common from the woman. Leytai was a mentor to Fhara, teaching her basic stitching skills and organisation habits, helping her to make her first quiver, and then later teaching her how to write alongside Leytai’s own son.

(Attempts at cooking lessons were put on hold after a fire almost broke out, an overenthusiastic Fhara terrified away after the ordeal.)

Khuba was the finest hunter in the village, an often not misplaced pride evident in his swagger and his smirk whenever he walked through the village. He had a tendency to tease any of the young ones that he taught, and Fhara in her eagerness to work hard and learn was often at his mercy. Yet beneath the playfulness was a serious yet kindly tutor. Familiar with the forests and their creatures, as his many smaller scars across his arms and knicks in his ears would attest, he would never leave the children he trained to hunt without his supervision. A good catch would get a reward from him. A good attempt would also get a reward. Perhaps he was getting soft in his older age, the other hunters would joke.

Fhara received bows with delicate carving along the wood, and fine leather boots always stained to match whatever armour she best favoured that season. Much of her skill and care for hunting came from the man, as well as the capability to safely navigate the humid forests. He was the closest thing she could consider to a father figure in her life.

The keeper elders kept to their own part of the village, yet they would always share tales and traditions from their years when asked, despite their feigned insistence that they would prefer solitude. Grouchy old cats that complained of the heat and the toughness of the local meat, that never quite took to the spices of the island cuisine. Yet there was always a softness behind their bite to all the children in the village that would ask of stories long gone. They weren’t quite like grandparents, but they were the closest thing Fhara could consider to such a thing.

The other children her age were harder for Fhara to relate to, both the keeper children that arrived alongside her as babes and the seekers that she came to grow up alongside. Fhara’s enthusiasm to aid around the village brought her cold shoulders and petulant glares from her peers. She didn’t have many friends.

Instead, whenever Fhara wasn’t preoccupied with her bow training or helping another villager with an errand, she would care for the younger children. Fhara felt like an older sister to the young ones, always surrounded in her free moments by the litter of young ones. She would try to pass on the same lessons she was taught in turn or keep them entertained. They would play hide and seek in the morning, then tag after lunch, until a frustrated adult would chastise them for getting under foot. So to wind down, they would gather in a corner and Fhara would regale them with stories. 

Tales of heroes and adventurers travelling the world over, aiding strangers with whatever ailed them. Noble knights, daring swashbucklers, and honourable mercenaries, any old fable or legend she had heard of or that she could dream up on her own, re-enacted for the children’s entertainment. Even when the night fell and the moon was high, the young children would beg for another story, beg their parents to let them stay for one more bell, so entranced were they by the stories. Eager to please them, she promised them more stories, stories of her own making someday.

Fhara was a full grown woman when she left to make good on that promise. No longer a child, yet shaped by the people that guided her in her life to that point. Her kindness, her prowess, her joy and playfulness, forged by her time growing up in the village.

The day she left the village for her own adventures, she was waved off by most everyone in the village. Those she would consider family, that raised her and cared for her. She was their child, their sister, their loved one. She would return someday, with more stories to regale.

[snowbellewells]

Captain Swan Movie Marathon: “Carolina Moon”

Here is my second submission to the @captainswanmoviemarathon event!! This one is a modern au of the Nora Roberts tv movie (adapted from one of her novels) Carolina Moon. The main female character in the movie is psychic/clairvoyant (I’ll admit, I’m not too sure on the distinction between the two) and I thought her visions and what she goes through in connection to them made a nice real world parallel to Emma’s magic. (There’s also a scene in here where the male lead says something that I could so perfectly see Killian saying to Emma… I just cannot wait to get to that point!)

Anyway, I hope you will enjoy this romantic thriller with some murder mystery elements.  There are some instances of abuse and violence in here though - which I feel like I should mention, since that’s a little darker than my typical style. Most of them are in flashbacks of Emma’s past, or in visions she has of victims, more than in the actual present day plot, still I wanted to make people aware before we got too far.

Please enjoy! (I’d love to hear what you think.)

Chapter One

July 1993

The water at their hideaway always feels so good. She could sink into it until her head slips below the surface and never, ever want to come up for air. It’s cooler, more luxurious than even the rich, satiny sheets on the trundle bed those rare nights she gets to sleep over at Rose’s. Emma Swan’s gangly, 13-year-old limbs slice through the murky water as if the constant humidity and sultry air of Storybrooke, South Carolina can’t penetrate here in their little haven. She knows, of course, logically, that the real world isn’t all that far away. The shaded pond she and Rose discovered two summers ago is just a short trek into the woods at the furthest edge of Rose’s family’s boundless acres. Still, it feels removed enough to bring Emma a sense of peace and contentment she gains nowhere else.

Looking over her shoulder to the large, smooth boulder jutting up out of the pond at the bank where they left their flip flops and cutoff denim shorts, she can see her best friend stretched out with her new book where they had spread their towels on the rock’s surface, just in the wash of warming sunlight that streams through the tree branches overhead. Her friend’s flawlessly creamy pale skin is prone to burning, but at the moment Rose seems willing to take the risk for the benefit of lazing cozily to read as she dries in the sun after taking a quick dip. Shaking her head, Emma plunges back under, happy to stay in the chilly water a bit longer herself. She knew as soon as they’d met outside Rose’s house that afternoon and Rose had held the newest entry in her favorite mystery series in her hand that she wouldn’t be able to resist burrowing into those pages for long.

It’s funny, Emma supposes, but that’s exactly what bonded she and Rose in the first place. They might seem different on the surface, but in the end, neither of them quite fit with everyone else, and so they gravitate to each other, and have ever since Emma first arrived in Storybrooke as an eight-year-old orphan. They’re willing to give each other at least one other person who takes them as they are and with whom they won’t have to pretend. Emma doesn’t care if Rose wants to read quietly and tell her about the stories she’s already finished instead of picking out dresses for the next cotillion class or preening in front of the mirror to practice batting her eyelashes to charm boys or bragging to Emma about which ones she intends to kiss. Her sister Ruby, who shares the same thickly shining, burnished mahogany hair and pretty pink lips but little of her fraternal twin’s calming, gentle personality, does enough of that for the both of them. Their mother, a former debutante and southern belle, delights in the one daughter’s traditional coquettishness, and despairs of the other’s shyness, a true throwback to another time who wants nothing more than to see both daughters marry well and retain their places atop the social ladder. In turn, Rose doesn’t mock Emma for her thick, dark-framed glasses or secondhand clothes, nor does she cringe away from the “fits” that sometimes take hold of her friend, making strange, disturbing scenes Emma can’t understand flash across her mind with such intensity they sometimes knock her off her feet. Emma knows Rose’s mother and sister find her an unsuitable and embarrassing companion for Rose, but she is eternally grateful her friend seems able to see the best in anyone - even a lost girl nobody else wants - and so blithely acts as though she has no idea of the rest of her family’s opinions.

Cringing even while still submerged in the pond’s depths and practically invisible, Emma tries not to think of her unwanted visions. Her strict, hypocritical, and more than a bit deranged foster father claims she’s possessed - and more than once has taken her episodes out on her hide. The man swears he’s beating the devil out of her and putting the fear of God in Satan’s place when he takes the thick leather strap to her shoulders, back and legs until she bleeds, but Emma has already lived long enough in a cruel and unfair world to know that his violence and “discipline” have less to do with parenting and concern for her soul, and more to show for his own twisted mind and overindulgence in the bottle. She wants to hide her spells from him, but when they come on her so abruptly and with such power, they are impossible to miss. She can’t fathom how a person like him was deemed fit to take in and care for a child, but it seems to be her lot, and so she simply grits her teeth and survives.

It’s different when the spells happen around Rose; the slight brunette merely rests a cool, steadying hand on Emma’s forehead or her arm until it passes, helps Emma stand until she feels in control again, listens as she attempts to make sense of whatever she’s seen, and most importantly… believes her. If only she could stay in the huge house Rose’s family calls home. She’d cook, clean, do chores, and stay in the servant’s quarters, Emma isn’t picky. It would still be a far sight safer than the situation she had in the rundown shack with the monster who’d been deemed her caretaker. Barring that, she would honestly rather live wild in these woods and survive off the land. She knew which plants and berries were safe to eat, Graham, her friend and a fellow orphan now happily adopted, had taught her how to fish; it wouldn’t be easy, but she’d get by, and at least no one would lay a hand on her again.

This afternoon, those eerie images she sometimes had seem far away as she splashes up out of the water, trying to arc playfully like a mermaid as she breaks the surface. Drawing in a big gulp of air after staying underwater so long, Emma startles at the sound of teasing laughter, and whirls to see three figures on the bank where she and Rose left their shoes and shorts. 

“Well, look here,” calls out a taunting voice that never fails to set Emma’s nerves on edge. “It’s the baby beached librarian and her drowned rat friend!” none other than Emma’s nemesis Killian Jones crows from his vantage point on dry land.

Rose sits up ramrod straight, book still in hand and annoyed scowl on her face at the quiet of their sanctuary being interrupted. She isn’t genuinely angry, though; for all that she and her sister shared little in common, she and her two years older brother are affectionately close. “Shut up, Killy!” she shoots back, throwing in the childhood nickname they all know he hates. “Who asked you to come looking anyway?”

The boy standing next to Killian speaks up next, making Emma scowl just as playfully as Rose had moments before. Graham Hunter might as well be her big brother; he’s the closest thing she’d had to family since her parents were lost in a car crash and she was thrown into the foster care system. Be that as it may, he and Killian Jones are thick as thieves, and he’ll give her a hard time for all he’s worth in while in the presence of his buddy. “We just wanted to swim,” he calls across the water to the two girls, smirking at Emma, now standing in the water with one hip jutting out and hands planted on her waist. “How were we supposed to know you two were infesting it?”

“Ha!” Emma jeers back, the affront plain in her voice; despite the fact that the entire routine is like a practiced girls-versus-boys exchange they’ve all engaged in countless times. There isn’t much else to do for entertainment in their sleepy little one-horse town. “You idiots know this is Rose and I’s hideaway, fair and square!”

“Well, Rose’s anyway,” a third voice cuts in snidely.

The cruel jab reminds Emma once more that she is just a charity case, quite possibly only included in anything at all because of her friend’s kind heart, and causes her gaze to cut sharply to the third member of the boys’ little crew, hanging back slightly in the shadows behind Killian and Graham as he always does. Her green eyes narrow to slits in genuine dislike and suspicion. Where before her animosity was largely for show, when they land on Walsh Ozman it is all too real.

She has never understood why the other two boys - jokers and annoyances though they may be, but good guys when it comes right down to it - hang out with Walsh at all.  Where Graham and Killian are much more cut from the same cloth - athletic, outgoing, well-liked and pleasant - Walsh is a splindy, sniveling character, complaining and whining whatever their little trio gets up to. He lives not far from Emma’s foster father’s cabin with his single mother - a bushy-haired redhead who seems strangely overprotective and attached to her only child. Most people give the property a wide berth, except when high schoolers teepee it the whole month of October, and the general town consensus is that Zelena Ozman might be a witch and to steer clear. Still, beyond all of that, Emma might have been able to look past the boy’s circumstances and see him for himself - she of all people knew the gift it was not to be judged by where a person came from - if Walsh hadn’t simply given her “the willies”. Even standing too close to him made the fine hairs at the nape of her neck stand on end - and not in the way that nearness to Killian sometimes did; an altogether much more pleasant tingle, even if she was just as unable to explain one as the other.

“We could just take their things,” Walsh suggests, holding up the threadbare, faded jeans Emma had left on the bank. “Make them walk back in their skivvies.” The wicked smile on his face makes Emma’s stomach turn over sickly.

Something sharp flashes in Jones’ eyes, his nostrils flaring slightly and his head giving a subtle shake of dissent that Emma can see even at the distance she stands away from him. Protectiveness, chivalry, or maybe the honor of a southern gentleman passed down to him through generations of his impressive family line, whatever it is, it sparks to life in his eyes at that moment as he quashes Walsh’s mean-spirited suggestion in no uncertain terms. “That’s my little sister you’re talking about Oz,” he growls, smacking the worn material from the smaller’s boy’s hands, even if the article of clothing isn’t Rose’s at all.

Emma feels her breath rush back into her lungs, though she continues to watch the guys warily for whatever they might do or say next. Before long, they grow bored of standing around and move on, hollering out age old taunts of “Bye, losers” and “Hey, smell ya later” to Emma’s derisive snort and Rose completely ignoring them to flip open her book again.

However, even with the intruders gone, it seems as if the perfect comfort of their retreat has been shattered by the unsettling interruption.  Soon, Emma wades to the shore and Rose clambers down from her perch, to dress once more and return to the world outside. For a moment, as she refastens her jeans around her skinny waist, Emma feels a strange prickling along the fine hairs on her arms… like they’re being watched. She jerks around, searching the surrounding trees and brush, but can’t see or hear a thing.

Rose’s small hand takes hers, snapping Emma out of the moment. “What is it?” she whispers, only true caring in her voice. “Did you sense something?”

Emma nods, but can’t give her suspicions voice. Usually her vision are clearer than that - this had just been heavy breathing and like looking at herself and Rose through another person’s eyes, outside her own body.

Rose stooped to grab the little canvas bag she’d bought along with water bottles, towels, and a second book in it. “Hey, don’t worry, okay?” she offers, hopeful and kind as always. “You’ll figure it out. Wanna meet back out here tonight? Secret Sister bonfire?” she winks mischeivously. “I have to get to dinner now. You know how Mama hates it if I’m not washed up and properly attired for the evening meal - or a second late. But we can talk some more then, maybe you’ll remember more and it will be clearer.”

Emma nods gamely. “The stars’ll be beautiful by midnight,” she suggests. “And we’ll definitely have the place all to ourselves.”

“Since we were so rudely interrupted,” Rose chimes in with a giggle and roll of her eyes.

“Shake on it, pinkie swear,” they say together in practiced unison, executing a complex handshake that ends with their pinkies hooked together and wide, matching grins on both their faces.

“Thanks Rose,” Emma whispers sincerely, trying to speak around the lump in her throat as if it’s no big deal. “I’ll be out here as soon as I can sneak away.”

Rose, for her part, wraps her taller, golden-haired friend into a tight, momentary hug. “Hey, we’re Secret Sisters! You can count on me.  I’ll see you then!”

They part ways at the edge of the forest, Emma heading to the rundown cabin that serves as her nightmarish version of a home and Rose to the pristine, Jones mansion standing tall over all the surrounding land. Rose looks back over her shoulder with a smile and wave that bolsters Emma, and the memory fades back into the haze of the past…

Eighteen years later….

September 2011

The blaring of the horn as a sports car whizzed by, barely missing the nose of Emma’s beat-up yellow VW where it had begun to edge out into the country intersection jarred her back to the present with a gasp and painful jolt to her chest. Panting for a moment as she gripped the steering wheel, Emma tried to clear her head and calm the pounding of her heart at the near-miss.

‘Get it together,’ she berated herself. It might have seemed like only yesterday as she remembered that sunny afternoon at the swimming hole, but that day had been nearly two decades ago. She was a grown woman, had made a way for herself, fighting tooth and nail for every step forward, and she answered to no one. She had learned to stand up for herself, to control her visions and use them for good, and was a special consultant for the NYPD. But, more than all of that, she had come back to this place to find peace, to lay to rest the ghosts that followed her everywhere else she’d gone in the years between, once and for all. If she expected other to leave the past in the past, she’d first have to manage it herself.

She’d had no way to know as she and Rose parted that afternoon with promises and plans for later that it would be the last time she would ever see her friend. Emma had harbored the pain and the guilt and the unanswered questions ever since. Finally, it was time to meet the gazes of all of those who’d stared at her in suspicion before she’d been packed up and moved away once more, and it was time she found answers. She wasn’t the scared, whipped, mistreated adolescent she had been at 13. What she had lived through then wasn’t her fault, nor was what had happened to Rose that muggy July midnight. 

And if she had to return to Storybrooke, South Carolina to lay that burden down… well, it was long past time she did.

Tagging: @captainswanmoviemarathon​ @teamhook​ @revanmeetra87​ @lassluna @kmomof4​ @searchingwardrobes​ @jennjenn615​ @hollyethecurious​ @stahlop​ @winterbaby89​ @lfh1226-linda​ @therooksshiningknight​ @thejollyroger-writer​ @artistic-writer​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @darkcolinodonorgasm​ @tiganasummertree​ @xsajax​ @spartanguard​ @laschatzi​

[shes-an-oddbird]

Christmas at River’s End Mall

Summary -  A Christmas AU in which everyone navigates their seasonal jobs, relationships and Christmas spirit, or lack there of, through woven together tales inspired by holiday prompts.

So excited about this little challenge for myself. 25 Days of Christmas, 25 Holiday prompts and a dozen or more characters I love and miss. Each chapter should spot light a different character or relationship and the stories become more and more intertwined (think Valentine's Day). 

Chapter 1 - Decorating for Christmas

Prompt - Decorating for Christmas Relationship - Philindaisy Family Feels POV - Coulson

There was something magical about the River’s End Mall at Christmas time. The largest mall in the state and ideally suited for events all year round but an absolute must see come the holiday season. A massive tree, an indoor ice rink, sleighrides outside, lights, decorations and of course Santa himself.

All of this was made possible by the efforts of the mall’s event coordinator, Melinda May, who upon meeting, wouldn’t be pegged as the festive type. It would however be assumed that she was the type to be exceptionally good at her job. Whatever that job may be. She was an excellent event coordinator because she got things done. So, when it comes to Christmas, she hires the best.

A man who brings a winter wonderland to life within the walls of the mall.

A man who believes in putting the spirit back in the holidays, even in the most commercial of locations.

A man who loves a good suit, red or otherwise.

A man by the name of Phil Coulson.

And on occasion, Santa Clause.

“If you don’t lay off the cookies, you’re not going to need the pillow to stuff your suit this year.” Phil smiles as Melinda appears next to him. He’s got a mouth full of crumbs and can’t get his own quip out before she’s taken in the hundreds of decorations they’ve brought in. “You’re out doing yourself this year.”

He swallows down the last of the cookie and grabs a few more off the tray that was set out for the workers and volunteers. “We got so much publicity last year, national news remember, can’t disappoint now.”

“I see and when does the tree arrive?”

“It’s here, they’re trying to figure out how to get it through the door.”

Her eyes snap to his, “Coulson, we’ve driven trucks into the mall, exactly how big is this tree?”

“Could be worse, Rockefeller Center already had dibs on my first pick.”

May rolls her eyes at him but he knows it’s all for show. When May first came to him twenty-five years ago, inquiring about setting up a Santa Experience at the mall he knew she’d accept nothing less than the best and every year it got a little bigger and a little better. It had been great publicity for his business, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t trying to impress her just a little bit.

“When do my elves arrive?” His own crew of employees handled most of the setup, installing the ice rink, hanging decorations from the balcony, setting up the tree, but over time the mall had acquired a group of volunteers who came in to help hang ornaments and set up activity tables.

“Daisy and the other volunteers should be here shortly.” Phil nods and watches as May moves around the towers of boxes, inspecting the contents of each of them.

“We’ve got everything, enough ornaments to coat a forest, the undecorated ones for the activity tables arrived yesterday, we’re also on 100% low energy LED lights this year.” May nods along but clearly isn’t paying much attention.

“We’ve got an excellent wrapping paper source this year too, lots of variety, different colors.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Came up with a tag line for the print advertisements, Christmas at River’s End Mall, it’s a Magical Place.”

“Coulson.”

“I think the box you’re looking for is over here.” Finally with her attention back, he leads her over to a foldout table with a small box sitting at the edge. May peers inside to see it full of handmade ornaments and a small spark appears in her eyes. Shortly after they had started the Santa Experience at the mall May had partnered with the local orphanage to bring in the kids in to do crafts and receive gifts. It was that first year that they had met Daisy, an unlucky but optimistic little girl and accidently bonded with May. While most of the kids took their crafts home to decorate as best they could for Christmas, Daisy always gave hers to the grumpy coordinator. May would then hang the decorations on the large tree. He still remembers the look on Daisy’s face when she came back the second year and saw her messy glitter ornament front and center. Phil had watched the pair get closer every year from then on and to be honest he knows he’s gotten attached too.

“I know you’re not Santa you know.” She says, her tiny arms crossed and messy dark hair obscuring her face.

“Oh.” He doesn’t know if that means she doesn’t believe in Santa at all or just knows that he’s not the real thing.

She leans against the arm of his chair. “Yeah, but I won’t tell the other kids.”

“Well I appreciate that; do you still want to tell me what you want for Christmas?” He always played Santa with the kids from the orphanage. He handled it better than his other employees when all these kids ever asked for was a family.

“I don’t really want anything.” She’s admiring the tree they’re situated in front of, he can see the lights sparkling in her wide eyes.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, but can I hang out for a minute anyways?” She asks, still distracted.

He smiles. “Of course.”

Every year it was the same with Daisy. She wouldn’t ask for anything, just go through the line for show and sit with him and stare at the lights when it was her turn. He found himself looking forward to the few minutes they shared together but then one year she wasn’t there. He had gone to May immediately. His friend, he had thought had been in a bad mood since the start of the holiday season, but that day she seemed particularly distant. “No Daisy this year, was she adopted?” He asks. Several little kids look up at him with curious eyes.

After ensuring all the activity tables were covered, May gestures for him to follow her a few steps away. “They’ve placed her with a foster family.”

“Well that’s good, a step in the right direction.” May says nothing. “But you don’t sound convinced.” He jokes.

“Its happened a couple of times before, they always send her back.”

This shocks him. Daisy was such an easy kid. Didn’t ask for anything, helped with the younger children, “she seems like such a good kid.”

“She is, just not a good fit, that’s what Sister Anne said.”

“Maybe this time will be different.”

“Maybe.”

Coulson knows somethings up. He’s gotten pretty good a reading May over the years. “You don’t seem too thrilled about that possibility.”

“That little girl deserves some love and support in her life, if she’s with a family that will give her that then I’m ecstatic.”

Daisy was back the next year. Things hadn’t worked out well with her foster family and she had been sent back to the orphanage shortly after the new year. On the plus side May seemed merrier than she had the past year, even if it was just slightly.

When Daisy comes through the line this time she doesn’t sit on the arm of the chair and stare at the lights and she doesn’t mock him about his crush on May. Daisy was a very perceptive child. Instead she shifts uncomfortably and whispers, “I think I know what I want this year.”

“Really?” Phil perks up. Whatever this kid wants he’s prepared to make it happen for her. He’ll talk to May and they’ll make it happen. A pony, a car, whatever.

“Yeah, but I don’t think I’ll get it.”

“Oh no? Well I know you know I’m not really Santa, but I could still work a little magic.”

Daisy still doesn’t give it up but her eyes that normally stare at the sparkling lights are directed now at the activity table where May is helping some of the younger kids glue cotton balls to Santa hats.

“She’s teaching me to ice skate.”

“Yeah?” This surprises him if only just a little. He had found out not long after they first installed the indoor ice rink that she was an excellent skater but he’d yet to see her set foot on the ice.

“She’d be a good mom, I think.”

So that was it. “That is a pretty big request.”

“I didn’t say – “ She protests.

“I know, but also, I know.” Daisy gives him a small smile before it fell back to a frown. “Look,” he said softly, taking her hands, “I don’t know if I can make that happen but I do know that she cares a lot about you and so do I, it makes me really happy that you shared that with me.”

“Thank you Coul – um, Santa.”

“COULSON!” Phil is jarred from his thoughts in time to see Daisy spiriting up to him. She’s grown now into a young woman, with a passion for computer science and a close batch of misfit friends who she’s built a family out of. Its no longer just her and May and occasionally himself at the Christmas dinner table.

“Long time no see, how come you never visit anymore?” He pulls her in to a tight hug. Its been too long.

“I don’t know, maybe because I’m a busy working adult now.”

“All lies, you’re ten years old in my mind.” He steps back, “you’ve got time to help me decorate though?”

She beams back at him. “Always, but uh, where is the tree?”

Yeah he should probably check on that. He turns to May, who at some point during his reminiscing had answered her phone. “They just got it through the doors, Coulson I swear if this doesn’t fit – “

“I will personally go chop down a smaller one,” he promises. “You try to give her the best and she complains about it.”

“I’m not complaining I’m being rational; someone is going to have to take care of this tree.”

“I have been doing this for twenty-five years and never once had a tree die on me.”

“1999, 2007, 2013, last year – “

“Last years was sick, what did you want me to do put it out of the street, have you never seen a Charlie Brown Christmas.”

“Alright mom and dad," Daisy interrupts, "let’s just call this one a draw, its sounds like we’ve got a lot of work to do.” She looks eagerly at May and he knows she wants something. “And speaking of work, I brought my roommate, Jemma, you remember her, right?”

“She's the expert gift wrapper you mentioned?”

“Can she interview with you?”

“These aren’t really convenient hours, she knows that right?”

Daisy nods enthusiastically. “She does, absolutely does, her labs have her working weird hours, late nights and early mornings, so this should be perfect for her.”

May nods in agreement. “Sounds great, let’s go.” Daisy does a short victory jig and begins to lead the way. May starts to follow but stops suddenly. “Coulson - "

“Yes?”

“The Tree.”

“I’ll ready the ax, Melinda.” She smiles a genuine smile and his heart thuds like he’d a kid again. Maybe this would be the year. Maybe.

[doc-pickles]

won’t let no one break your heart (part three)

I was gonna wait another day to post this but the group chat made me post it today so you should thank them.

TW// Implied & Referenced Child Abuse

Two and a half weeks had passed quickly from the day Sadie had her surgery. She’d done well, just as Alex had expected, and was loving staying in the hospital. She had the nurses wrapped around her finger and Jo and him came to visit as often as they could. They’d both decided to keep her there as long as they could, knowing that if she was released she’d end up in a home that wasn’t theirs since they hadn’t been approved to foster yet. But the decision had ended up working out well, giving them time to bond with Sadie and giving her time to heal properly. 

  Molly had been brought by to visit once a few days after Sadie’s surgery, her foster family seemingly nice enough but overwhelmed with three other children at home. The visit had done wonders for both girls and Molly had snuggled herself into Jo’s chest once again, chubby fingers poking at her expanding belly. The three girls laughing and joking together had made Alex happier than he cared to admit, his burdened mind lightening as he watched Jo singing some silly song to them. 

  If he were honest, he wasn’t sleeping well. Something about Cassie and Molly not being in their home induced a sense of anxiety in him, a problem that he’d never before faced. He knew that they weren’t his and Jo’s children, knew that when they did come to stay with them it would only be temporary, but the thought of the two helpless girls going to sleep by themselves every night didn't sit right with him. 

  “Go back to sleep,” Jo’s fingers are in his hair, pulling him out of his daydream as she cuddles up behind him. “Or you can come over here, I wouldn’t say no to that.”

  Alex turns to face Jo, a smirk lighting up his face as his fingers brush against her cheek. As she entered her second trimester, Jo’s hormones had left her nauseousness behind in favor of a higher than normal sex drive. Alex couldn’t complain, he loved this new side of his wife that he got to enjoy, “Mmm was last night not enough to satisfy you?” Jo’s retort was cut off by the doorbell ringing through the house, the sound eliciting a whine from Jo as Alex rolled out of bed, shrugging on his sweatpants and a shirt, “You know this is getting really old, I’m tired of getting interrupted when things get good.”

“Oh quiet, I’ll be back in a minute,” Alex padded down the hallway to the stairs, taking them two at a time in an attempt to get whoever was there out of his hair sooner rather than later. When he opened the door though, Alex was so shocked that he couldn’t form any words. 

  “Your paperwork went through,” Martha Lewis stood on Alex’s doorstep, Molly cuddled into her shoulder. “Until we find another placement for them, she’s all yours. They both are.”

  “Alex? Who’s at the door,” Jo’s voice sounds from the top of the stairs, Alex turning to look at her as he moves to the side. A gasp leaves her, one hand coming to cover her mouth as she stands unmoving from her spot. “Oh my god…”

  “Jo! Jojo, come,” Molly’s small voice is all it takes for Jo to come down the stairs, the little girl practically jumping from Martha’s arms to Jo’s awaiting ones. “Jojo!”

  Jo meets Alex’s eyes over Molly’s shoulder, her eyes shining with tears as she looks up at her husband, “For real? She’s really here? I’m not just having a really vivid dream, right?”

  He nods, looking to Martha again. She gives him a slight nod, handing Alex a small bag and letting the couple know she’d check on them soon. He barely registers her leaving, his eyes trained on Jo and Molly who are already giggling at each other. 

  “Well, now we just have to get your sister here,” Alex’s words bring both girls’ eyes up, green and hazel blinking up at him as he spoke. “For now though, how about waffles?”

  After eating breakfast and taking a bath, Molly was lying in bed with Jo, content as could be while she read a book to her. The few clothes she’d had in her bag were all in desperate need of a wash, so the little girl was dressed in one of Jo’s shirts that hung loosely on her little body. The view was perfect, Alex thought as he stood in the doorway, it was exactly what he’d always pictured for him and Jo. She was cradling her growing stomach, fingers tracing lazy patterns over the curve as she changed her voice for the different characters in the book. Molly’s head was resting on her shoulder, her own fingers tapping out a rhythm on Jo’s belly as she listened intently to the story. It was just missing one thing… 

  “I’m gonna run to the hospital, I shouldn’t be too long,” Alex came out of the bathroom fully dressed, kissing Jo and Molly on the forehead as he made his way out of the room. “I put the carseat in your car, in case you need it while I’m gone.”

  Jo nodded to him, calling out a quick goodbye that Molly echoed before both girls turned back to the book in front of them. The two were so alike, it was almost scary. If it weren’t for her emerald green eyes and pale skin, Alex might think that Molly was really his wife’s child. 

  The drive to the hospital was quick, Alex waving at a few familiar faces as he made his way to the Peds ward. He checked over Sadie’s file quickly before entering the little girls room with a smile, “Hey there kiddo.”

  “Alex! I missed you,” Sadie was clambering across the bed to hug Alex tightly as soon as she saw him, blue eyes glowing brightly as she looked up to him. “You don’t normally come on Saturdays.”

  “You’re right, but I’m here for a special reason. What do you say we get you out of here,” Sadie’s eyes widened as she stared blankly at Alex. “You’re all better, we can get you home today if you want to.”

  Sadie shook her head, Alex staring at the little girl in confusion. He thought for sure she’d be excited at the prospect of getting out of the hospital, “I don’t wanna go home, please don’t make me go home.”

  A heavy sigh left Alex as he began to understand Sadie’s reluctance to leave. She thought she was going home to her dad, not somewhere where she’d be taken care of. Alex and Jo hadn’t told her that she’d be coming to them since they hadn’t officially been approved to foster and didn’t want to get her hopes up. 

  “Hey, you’re not going back home. You get to come home with me,” Sadie looked shocked as she looked at Alex, not understanding his words fully. “You get to come stay with me and Jo and guess what? Molly’s already there waiting for you.”

  “Molly’s at your house?,” Sadie’s face was scrunched up in confusion as she tried to make sense of what Alex was telling her. 

  “Yup and you get to come too. How does that sound,” Alex watched Sadie nervously, as if her saying no would break him in half. 

  Finally after a long pause Sadie nodded, her blue eyes shining with an enthusiasm that Alex hadn’t seen from her before, “Okay, we can get out of here.”

  An hour later Alex had successfully gotten Sadie discharged, the little girl waving at all of the nurses on the Peds floor as she sat on his hip. He didn’t think he’d ever been this happy, Sadie chattering on about everything her and Molly would do when they got home. A small part of Alex hoped that his own child would be a girl so he would be able to hear the laughter and cheerfulness that Molly and Sadie brought with them. 

  He pushed the bittersweet thought to the side as he strapped Sadie into her car seat, not wanting to remember the fact that the girls were only temporary figures in their home. 

  Alex and Sadie arrived home not long after leaving the hospital, the young girl bouncing with excitement as they walked up the front steps. The duo entered the house, Alex calling out for Jo and Molly who appeared at the top of the stairs. Molly was all but glued to Jo’s hip, only making a move to leave when she saw Sadie. She shrieked happily the whole way down the stairs, Jo pasting a small smile on her face as Molly jumped from her arms to envelop her sister in a hug. 

  Seeing the sisters reunite and immediately begin playing with each other confirmed for Alex that they’d made the right decision in keeping the two together. Turning to Jo, he expected to find her just as excited as he was, but instead found her with tears in her eyes as she bit her lip harshly, “Hey, what’s wrong? Both girls are here and they’re gonna stay here until there’s a good home waiting for them.”

  “Somethings wrong with the baby,” Jo finally moved her gaze from her feet up to Alex. She looked terrified, glassy eyes blinking away tears to no avail. “Molly and I were laying in bed and my stomach started cramping. Everything was fine and now it’s not and I-”

  Alex placed his hands on Jo’s shoulders, meeting her eyes in an attempt to calm her down, “Hey hey, it’s okay, take a deep breath. Where’s the pain at?” 

  “It doesn’t hurt, it’s just crampy and it’s right here,” Jo placed Alex’s hand on the side of her stomach, tears falling down her cheeks as she leaned her head against his chest. “I’m such a bad mom, our baby isn’t even here and I suck.”

  “Is that what you felt earlier?,” Alex asked, Jo nodding a yes as a small laugh left him. “Jo, that’s just the baby moving. I can feel it from the outside, that’s a good sign.”

  Jo shook her head, looking back to Alex with a frown, “No there’s something wrong, that’s not just…”

  Her words stop as a particularly hard kick hits Alex’s hand, Jo’s eyes now blown wide as she stares at him in awe. 

  “Jojo, what’re you doing,” Sadie’s voice pulls Jo out of her daze, the observant six year old noticing Alex’s hand on her bump. She places her own tiny hand next to Alex’s, laughing when another kick hits in the same spot. “The baby’s moving! It kicked my hand!”

  A watery laugh left Jo as she realized that Alex was right and the feeling had really just been their baby squirming around inside of her. She grinned up at him, eyes shining with joy, “You know this means Molly felt the baby before you.” “I’ll let her have this one,” Alex laughed, leaning down to kiss Jo.

  +

  There was screaming in the next room, horrible words being tossed around and accusations that held no truth but still hurt to hear. 

  “Don’t you get near those kids!”

  After that, the sound of flesh hitting flesh rung out, a muffled cry following it. The sounds continued like that for a few minutes before silence overtook the house. 

  “That’s what you get you dumb bitch.”

  The sound of glass shattering and a terrified scream sent Alex diving under the covers as he prepared for the worst. He knew when things started breaking that nothing good would follow. 

  “Alex! Alex!”

  Alex sat straight up in bed, sweat drenching his body as he attempted to regulate his ragged breaths. A soft hand settled onto his back, reminding him that he wasn’t a scared kid hiding from his dad anymore. Turning to his left, Alex met Jo’s concerned eyes as her free hand came up to brush his damp hair away from his forehead. 

  “I'm right here babe, it’s okay,” Jo’s soothing voice instantly caked Alex’s hammering heart as he leaned into her embrace. “You’re okay, it’s all okay. It was just a nightmare.”

  He knew why his nightmares had come, knew that walking Sadie and Molly through their troubled realities would inevitably bring his own childhood to the forefront of his mind. Alex hadn’t realized how difficult things would be for him mentally, but Jo had been a great support to him. 

  If they were honest, the three weeks that Sadie and Molly had been with them were tough on all four people in the household. The first few nights that they’d been together, Sadie and Molly had both woken up with nightmares that dragged them to Jo and Alex’s bed. The nightmares had died down, but both of the girls showed signs of emotional distress at the simplest of things that would set them off. 

  Jo had reduced her hours at work to spend more time with the girls, but was struggling keeping up with two rambunctious children while growing one of her own. Alex’s time as Chief was coming to an end, something he was shockingly thankful for since it allowed him to help Jo out with the girls more. Martha still hadn’t found a family willing to take both girls, but even with their challenges Jo and Alex couldn't find it in themselves to complain. 

  “I’m sorry I woke you up,” Alex pressed a kiss into Jo’s hair, one hand running down her back. “I know you haven’t been sleeping well.”

  “I was already up, your son has been using my bladder to practice his soccer skills,” Jo swung her legs off the bed, groaning as she padded to the bathroom. “He must be more Karev than Wilson since he’s already a pain in the ass.”

  Alex couldn’t help but be amazed at how well his wife had adjusted to pregnancy. She never complained about the aches and pains through her changing body, instead informing him how big their son was that week or silently moving his hand to feel the movements that stretched across her stomach. 

  Their son. 

  Alex and Jo had found out just a few days beforehand that they were expecting a little boy. The thought still terrified him, that his son would arrive and he’d find some way to screw him up just as bad as his dad had done for him. He knew that with Jo by his side though, she wouldn’t let him fail in the same ways that his own father had. 

  A quiet knock on their bedroom door pulls Alex out of his thoughts as he moves to find out which little girl is up at midnight looking for him. When he pulls the door open, he’s pleasantly surprised to see both Molly and Sadie waiting for him. 

  “Come here you two, before Jo gets back and sees you,” the girls begin to giggle as Alex picks them up and tucks them into the large bed, both of them ducking underneath the covers as they hear Jo exit the bathroom. 

  “Hmm I guess I should crawl back in bed now,” Jo raises her eyebrows at Alex, who shrugs as he feigns confusion. “I hope my husband didn’t let any sneaky little girls into our bed while I was gone.”

  Jo walked around the bed and pulled back the covers, Sadie and Molly bursting into a fit of giggles as soon as they’d been caught. Jo smirked at them, not being able to hide her excitement about having them both near her, “You can stay, but you gotta make room for me in here. I’ve got a little man here who won’t hesitate to kick you if you get too close.”

  At Jo’s words, Sadie immediately scoots closer to her side, both of her palms splaying across her bump as she settles into the bed. She waits a moment before a kick hits her tiny hand, a laugh coming from her as she looks up to Jo, “He kicked me! Baby brother kicked my hand again!”

  Alex and Jo met each other’s eyes over the girls heads, both of them wearing shocked expressions at the words that Sadie had so casually slipped out. Unfazed by the happenings around her, Sadie curled into Jo, her head resting against her chest. Jo watched as Molly did the same to Alex, her chubby fingers clutching at his shirt as her eyes closed easily. 

  Watching the look on her husband's face, Jo shook her head with a small smirk, “Alexander Karev, absolutely not. We agreed.”

  “I know, I know,” a grin lit up Alex’s face as Sadie’s hand reached up to caress Jo’s cheek, her own hand coming up to instinctively grab the little girl and kiss her palm. “Just thinking…”

  “Well stop, that’s what got me knocked up,” Jo raised her eyebrows at Alex, who struggled to stifle his laugh as Molly burrowed further into his chest. 

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt.21

Tense. Things at home were tense. Lance had muttered about needing to go shopping, then left. Keith knew when to bite his tongue, and this was definitely a time for tongue biting. Wanting to do something helpful Keith put his mind to cleaning. Not like in-depth cleaning, but enough to be counted as an effort around the house. That meant first he had to find everything, then he had to argue with the washing machine as he tried to figure the damn thing out as he didn’t know if sheets were washed on the same cycle setting as clothes... if they weren’t before, they were now. Blue had acted like it was the end of the world once the vacuum cleaner went on, dramatically running from the living room so fast she skidded. Adam would have been proud of him. As was every foster family he’d never fit in with. Sure, he had anger issues, but he wouldn’t have anger issues if people stopped making him angry.

Keith got less done than he’d set out to accomplish. Barely finishing the first floor before there was the sound of a car horn out the front, the approach drowned out by Lance’s ancient vacuum that would have been tossed out long ago if Adam had seen the device. Adam really did have the one functioning brain cell between him, Shiro and Keith. The hunter knew it was unhealthy to hold onto things, Adam had died over a year ago now, but he and Shiro together had been the best family Keith had ever had. Shiro never treated him like a legacy. The child of a hunter who’s name carried far too much weight. Since being accepted into the Order and beginning his training as a cadet, he’d lived in the shadow of the great werewolf hunter Krolia. He understood why she had to leave him, why she did fought as she did, but... Shiro and Adam felt more like family to him than she did. Krolia was... she was... it was heavy to think about her accomplishments. Stowing the vacuum back in the laundry, Keith rushed back through the house, trying not to appear like he cared whether Lance was alright or not... because he didn’t.

Heading out, Lance was standing at the back of his bronco, trunk door open

“Help me carry stuff”

Lance wasn’t supposed to be doing anything exerting like carrying in the whole damn shop from the look of it

“Did we really need so much stuff?”

“Not supposed to go out, remember. So I stocked up. Before you bite my head off, I didn’t go shopping alone. I found my phone in the car and shot Hunk a message”

“You... talked to Hunk?”

“Am I not allowed?!”

The snappiness in Lance’s tone kind of hurt, as did the fact Lance had talked to Hunk before they’d had a chance to talk about their situation

“I’m not saying that. I’m just wondering what... It’s none of my business”

“It’s fine. I shouldn’t have snapped. I told him Mami had a fall, well, Miriam had a fall and I was in Platt due to it. He went a little crazy shopping”

“So you’re blaming Hunk for this?”

They needed a whole army to eat the amount of food in the back of the bronco. Lance sighed as he passed Keith the first bag

“He’s a good man. I really do think he and Pidge are both interested in you, as in being friends. Sorry, can we save talking until we’re back inside. I want to wallow a little longer”

“Alright... but don’t think you’re getting out of this”

“I wouldn’t dream of it”

*

People were exhausting. Hunk was one of those people. He was a natural born worrier who’d worried the moment he showed up. Lance was pulled into a tight hug, hiding his discomfort as he was. Normally he loved Hunk’s hug, but he couldn’t tell him the truth and it sucked big hair testicles. Repeatedly trying to redirect the conversation from him, Hunk kept bringing up how unwell Lance looked and how he needed to eat more. Yeah. He did. But looking at all the food in the supermarket isles made him sick. It fed the knot of anxiety that’d settled in his gut. He was changing for the worse, and there was no way to back out of it now. When Matt came, everything would change again. Pidge would be over the moon to see her brother again, while Matt would be terrified of one wrong move exposing his secret. Secrets sucked. They festered like wounds. Growing and spreading that infection until you felt physically ill.

Settling down with a cup of coffee, like a normal human would, Lance stared into the cup as Keith put things away. Lance wanted to take control, he wanted to take back some kind of order in his life, yet with Keith living there, he needed to loosen up. Keith needed to know where things went and how to navigate his kitchen beyond how to use the coffee machine. Keith really seemed to like his coffee. He wasn’t so fond of broccoli, or corn for that matter, but he also never really complained about eating anymore... provided he could hover while Lance he cooked, still kind of paranoid Lance was going to poison him or something. If he was going to do that, he would taken care of Keith the second Shiro was clear of the picture.

“You look pale. Do you need blood?”

Keith’s question took Lance by surprise. He never hid his drinking blood from his friends, but they thought he was simply indulging in red wine. Keith had seen him drink, and extremely embarrassingly vulnerable. He’d swallowed down that blood bag at VOLTRON with no worries thanks to how hungry he was... So why was it now he was feeling self conscious thanks to Keith asking? And why were his teeth almost throbbing at the idea? It would be a blood bag like the rest of the times he fed, having Keith there was not his ticket to a fresh meal because he didn’t want a fresh meal. That’d mean only submitting to his vampire way

“Not yet”

“Coran said you need to keep your strength up”

“Since when did you care?”

Keith placed down the box of cereal he’d been trying to find a home for

“Since I don’t run away from mistakes I’ve made”

Ouch. Yeah. Keith had fucked up, but he was kind of trying... but only because he felt obligated too. Obligations sucked. Lance knew he was only a job to Keith, but “mistake” struck like a bullet to the heart

“Dude, ouch”

“I... I mean. I take responsibility for my actions. You’re changing because of me. We can’t ignore it”

“I can try”

Keith slammed his plan down on the kitchen bench with enough anger that Lance felt himself jump

“Why?! Why do you that? You said nothing to Luis. You didn’t try defending yourself. You didn’t ask to be turned”

He really hadn’t. He’d been such a lonely kid, he always seemed to have plenty of people around him, but he’d always felt so filled with faults that he kept messing up his friendships. Every month he seemed to have a new best friend who’d leave him to play with someone cooler and smarter than he was. Someone who better at games, and didn’t have problems with English as Spanish was the spoken language at home. He’d been alright with his siblings until they all started to grow older... then they’d all sort of... given up on their little brother

“Luis gave into his fear long ago”

“That doesn’t make it right. He tried to have you hunted”

“I know he did. Look, I’m way too sober for that conversation. But you’d be right if you thought I ruined our family. No one knew how to handle a kid with flashbacks, nightmares and all the things that come with being a vampire. I’m happy they all got out and had a life...”

“The rest of your family’s like that? Like, Luis?”

“It’s complicated. They don’t understand why I’m the way I am. Why I don’t drive a car in the hundreds of thousands of dollars, why I live in a house that’s a cross between farmhouse and plantation. Why I work so cheaply when I could be earning more. They all think I sponge off Mami, and stay with her so I have control over her. It’s easier to pick your battles and the way I see it, Mami won’t live forever. I’ve caused her enough pain that shouldn’t have to see me fighting with my siblings. Fuck... I really am way too sober”

Taking off his glasses, Lance leaned back in his chair, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his palms. Keith didn’t know his life outside of whatever he’d read. He didn’t know how hard it was in the house to have a blood sucker. He didn’t know how many times Lance had made things hard for their family. How he’d cost them all this extra money to keep him fed and safe. Then there was therapy. Him changing schools. Him dealing with his mental health while trying to deal with puberty and nightmares. And God knew how hard it was. How hard it was for his parents, how exhausted they were. How his condition was kind of taboo, and no one was allowed to make a joke about it lest his Mami heard and you’d get smacked across your arse with her pink slipper. Keith picked up the box of cereal again, Lance could hear his moves. The way the contents of the box shook, and the way his clothes rustled. The tiny shift of his footing as he stood on tiptoe to find a space in the cupboard

“I think you were wrong not to stand up for yourself”

Of course “Crusader Keith” thought he needed to stand up for himself, he’d been trained by “Shiro the Hero”

“Tried that, doesn’t work”

He always sent cards, via Mami who knew their address

“Even if Shiro turned, I don’t think I could ever give up on him”

“That’s because you’re far more emotionally mature that my siblings were when they had to deal with a messed up little brother. I’m going to get a bottle of red. Fuck being sober, I’m going to wallow the patheticness out my system, then hopefully I won’t be such a grumpy dick”

“I don’t think you’re being too grumpy. You’re still a bit of a dick”

Lance snorted, placing down his cup of coffee

“That might just be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me”

“Don’t get used to it”

Lance’s lips turned upwards, the ghosting of a smile. Keith was a total dick, and had no place in Lance’s life, but he wasn’t as obnoxious as he’d been when they first met

“Have a look in the blue bag, down the bottom. I got you something while I was out”

*

“Have a look in the blue bag, down the bottom. I got you something while I was out”

Keith didn’t get Lance at all. He’d been moping, now he was kind of smiling, or grimacing, Keith wasn’t completely sure, but the fact Lance had bought him something seemed kind of like a trap

“You got me something?”

“Yep. Blue bag is all yours”

His? Wasn’t the food because he was human? What else did he need?

“Why?”

“Why, what?”

“Why did you get me something?”

“Because when I saw it, I thought of you. Don’t make this weird”

It was already weird. All of this was weird as fuck. Peaking in the first blue bag there was a whole heal of vegetables, including broccoli which he hated, Lance snorted at him

“Not that one. The other one”

“You could have told me that”

“Coulda, woulda, shoulda”

Whatever that meant. Grabbing the second blue bag, Keith pulled it forward by the handles

“Milk?”

“Lactose free. Actually, all the milk I’ve been buying lately to feed your coffee addictions been lactose free, so you’re welcome over that. I said in the bottom. You know, under everything else”

“Shut up. It just looked like bottles of milk”

“On the top, maybe. I’ll give you that”

Keith sighed to himself mentally. How was he supposed to put up with Lance for another two weeks when he had nothing to do. He couldn’t work out, Coran had benched Lance from teaching him anything physical. Sitting around and doing nothing didn’t agree with him. Lifting out the two bottles of milk, he was annoyed that Lance had something nice. He wasn’t strictly like allergic to lactose, but some brands definitely upset his stomach more than others. At the bottom of the bag was a wrapped box, the paper slightly wet from the condensation off the milk bottles

“It’s a box?”

“Wow, I bet those powers of observation are what makes you a great hunter. Open the box, dummy”

Grumpily Keith took the box out of the bag, mumbling as he did

“You didn’t need to buy me anything”

“You’re really bad at accepting gifts aren’t you?”

“Shut up”

Inside the box was a red digital camera. Keith had always loved the colour red, he also indulged in a little photography thanks to Shiro. It wasn’t as fancy as his camera at home, but it wasn’t bottom of the range either

“You got me a camera?”

“Yep. If you’re going to be sticking around, I figured you might want one to keep up the pretence of having left it here”

This would have easily cost Lance a couple of hundred. Didn’t the vampire have better things to spend his money on?

“Why...?”

“Not this again. Fine, I’ll play along. Why, what?”

“Why did you spend money on me?”

“Because you’re stuck here and I thought that it might be nice to have something of your own. It’s also an apology for all the shit I put you through by turning into a bat. Just make sure you get a few photos of the house, I told the others you were taking photos to help me renovate. Accept the damn gift”

Lance seemed as bad at giving gifts as Keith was at receiving them. Not that the camera was a bad gift, the vampire seemed embarrassed that he was making a fuss over it all. Big gifts like this were shaved for birthdays or Christmas, no one went around simply buying things for other people, unless it was Shiro. Shiro had absolutely awful impulse control, Keith’s not that much better. His savings only went as far as saving for what he wanted, buying it, then looking at his abysmally empty bank balance sadly. There was no reason to really save when any mission could see him dead...

“Thanks. I’m not used to things like this”

“I can tell. Just... the camera isn’t me trying to buy your apology. Just so you know, I wanted to do something nice for you, with like, no strings attached... and now that this has gotten even more awkward, I’m off to get that red”

As Lance pushed his chair back, curiosity struck, Keith tilting the box in Lance’s direction

“Hey, Lance... Do you show up in these things?”

“Really? Photos, videos and mirrors... People wish they’d looked as good as I do dead. I mean, otherwise it’d be super suspicious when I didn’t show up in Pidge’s videos, when I let her film me”

“Oh... I hadn’t thought about that”

Lance snorted at him

“Some vampire hunter you are. Please don’t destroy my kitchen while I’m gone. Also, I grabbed some stuff so we can make pizza for dinner... I assume you don’t mind pizza and beer?”

Keith wrinkled his nose. That sounded like he was going to be cooking... and if the piece of shit toaster Lance used to have was anything to go by, then maybe that wouldn’t be the best idea. Lance was already walking towards the kitchen door

“I don’t know how to make pizza”

Raising his hand, the vampire waved his concerns off

“Then prepared to do the learn. Man, I’m going to have to teach you everything, aren’t I?”

“About vampires?”

“Nope. First you learn to do the human, then you’ll learn how to do the dead human. Don’t forget, I’ll hear you if you try breaking my kitchen... ow, fuck...”

Walking straight into the door frame, Lance rubbed at his forehead. Keith had no idea how Lance managed to walk into so many things and be so absolutely uncoordinated while in his own house. He wore glasses, shouldn’t that like help him see? Shouldn’t he have some kind of sense when he was getting too close to something? What kind of a vampire needed glasses? Lance didn’t make sense at all.

[tisfan]

May I take Your Coat?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25288321 For @livewire28 

Bucky is a selkie, headed into the human world to find a potential mate. He has no intention of staying very long... until he does.

Wanda is closing up the tiki bar for the night and wishes this last-minute customer would hurry up and go... until she doesn't.

Inspired by several tumblr posts I’ve seen where the human offers the coat back after knocking it down, or whatever.

Bucky flopped up on shore, scratching his belly over the sand and wending his way up to the rocks. There was a cave there, long since used for such purpose. Human things were stored there, neat and tidy. If he was lucky, the rain barrel would be full and he could take a bit of a bath.

Long gone were the days that a half-dressed, scruffy stranger could walk into a seaside town and not immediately be run out by the local coppers. There were standards. He couldn’t look like a vagabond. 

Humans were weird.

Bucky made his way to the cave and then shrugged out of his coat.

It always took him a moment to find his land legs again, and he was glad enough that there weren’t people looking at him. Not even his own kind.

The cave was cool, and well laid out, the earthen floor long since cleared of stone and debris, flat and firm under his feet. A few human style chairs were set around a flat surface. Tabul, Bucky thought was the word, or close enough.

The rain barrel was full and he drew a few buckets into the tub to wash the salt smell from his skin, to scrub out his hair. Things they didn’t really worry about during their day to day lives.

He checked the gift box; trophies from past loves and gifts for new courted mates. Never stolen. Selkies weren’t thieves. Take one, leave one.

A fine string of black pearls, intermixed with a rose pearl every five beads. That should be well enough. Human women preferred jewelry, men preferred weapons. Or gold. There was some of that in the chest, too.

Bucky took his own offering, a handful of pirate treasure that he’d gotten from one of the wrecks nearby. The sea was hard on things from the land, aside from treasure. Eventually, someone would come, check the box. Gather up that which could be crafted. Everyone contributed because the system benefited everyone.

If you wanted a child, or a mate, you went through the cave.

Bucky found clothes there, sealed in a zip locked bag. He knew about those, too. Plastic. It filled the ocean, no matter how much the selkies tried to gather it up and toss it back on the shore. But it kept clothing dry and free from dirt and stains while waiting for someone else to be able to use it.

He dressed. Finger combed out his hair, gently untangling the strands. He looked well enough to pass for a local, he guessed.

Slinging his coat over his arm, Bucky put on loose-fitting shoes -- he hated shoes, all selkie hated shoes, but the humans got mad if you weren’t wearing them.

Stupid human rules.

But it was the only way to be sure.

If a selkie mated with another selkie, they could birth seal pups, which was tolerable, or a selkie, which was ideal. Or a human child, which was not ideal at all. 

Humans no longer looked at a child left on the beach or the docks as a blessing. The child would end up in the human foster care, sometimes adopted out, sometimes neglected, but often taken far away from the sea, too far for their parent to find them, so they would never know… until some years, or even generations later, when they had their own child.

Who might be a selkie.

But any selkie who took a human as their mate, the child would be selkie.

For the women, it was easier; come ashore, spend a few days with a relatively tolerable human, come home and have the baby. The only time that went wrong was if the human found and stole the selkie’s coat.

For men-- 

Well, there were a few options. Selkies weren’t thieves.

But the cost of a child was high; the cost of living a half-life among humans was high.

Many selkie men chose to raise a child not of their blood, help provide for a child with a selkie mate, adopt the offspring.

It wasn’t a bad plan, not really.

But Bucky wanted his own child.

Was that too much to ask?

*

Wanda sighed as the man walked into her bar. There was no dress code, aside from yes, please wear clothes. It was a beach bar, tiki themed and tacky, but it meant no one expected the floor to be swept. It was almost closing time, though, and she’d already shooed the rest of the locals and tourists out.

“It’s already last call,” she said. “I can get you one drink, and anything that’s left cooked in the kitchen, but that’s all.”

“That will be well enough,” the man said, and he was beautiful, really. Dark, windswept hair that looked like he’d been swimming most of the day. Blue eyes, cleft chin. Cheekbones that would worry the TSA, they were that sharp.

The clothes, not so much. A tourist tee from one of the shops up on the strip and ugly shorts with pineapples on them. Sandals, which wasn’t typical. But he carried a brown silk sport coat tucked over his arm. Gorgeous, almost golden. Glittery, reflecting back the light from the imitation tiki torches. The shop owner didn’t like smoke from real torches, so they had ugly fake electric things. And light up palm trees. It was tacky as shit.

Which meant, at least, her customer mostly matched the decor.

She wished she didn’t have to work the night shift -- she was always cranky during the evening -- but school was in the morning. One of these days, she was just going to collapse. Trying to do two full time gigs, and her side-hustle where she consulted for people doing gardening and helped them lay out and select plants. She barely got any time to breathe. Certainly relaxing was all the way out of the question.

Which didn’t make her the best host to a customer coming in to eat a plate of cold fries and drink a beer.

“Long day in the sun?”

“Something like that,” the man said, sitting down at the bar, moving gingerly. He didn’t look sunburned. Maybe he was just sore. Too much swimming.

“Well, we’re closing soon, so you enjoy your food. Yell if you need something, but I gotta start clean up. I was supposed to have help today, but both the other girls called out,” she said.

“Is there anything I can do to assist?”

Wanda didn’t quite scoff. Like a tourist would want to help do the dishes or put the stools up. “It’s just basic stuff. Put the seats up on the table, rake the floor for trash, empty--”

The man got up, drained his beer, and Wanda half expected him to leave without paying, saying he was going to leave a bad review and would be back to talk to the manager, because honestly that was what she was used to. Tourists were people with money, and most of the time, they were entitled pricks.

Instead, he wiped his mouth on the back of his arm, and then-- got to work putting up the stools.

“Thank you,” Wanda said. She probably shouldn’t let him help; Thaddeus Ross, her boss, would not be pleased with her if something happened to the man. Or even if he complained-- or if someone else complained. But she was so tired, really, what could it hurt, just this once? “My name’s Wanda.”

“Bucky,” the man said.

“Thanks, Bucky,” she said. “If you can do that, I’ll get the kitchen shut down, then take out the trash.”

“Will do, Wanda,” he said, and he stressed her name, like a caress.

She suppressed a shiver, headed into the kitchen. She didn’t have time or energy to worry about some guy.

Loaded the dishes into the industrial washer and started it. Sometimes she wished she had one of those at home. Once the dishes were in the rack, it took about four minutes to clean them. She had to be careful unloading because the dishes would be hot as hell, but it was nice.

And then she’d look at the space it needed and the cost and decide if she needed a plate in four minutes, she could just wash it in the sink.

By the time Wanda came back out to wipe down the bar, Bucky had put all the chairs up except the one he had been using, stacked all the trash bags by the door, and was raking the floor to get up all the random cigarette butts, spare change, and cruft that gathered around the tiki bar.

“Wow,” she said. “Nice job.” She took his plate back into the kitchen and left it by the washer. There was no point unloading the whole thing to wash one plate. Opening shift could get it tomorrow. “Here--” she snagged his jacket, flipped up the last stool, and then offered it to him. “Thanks for your help.”

Bucky reached out his hand tentatively for the jacket, as if he were shocked that she’d touched it. Or given it back. Or something. She couldn’t help petting it. The material was so soft.

But when he reached for it, his fingers brushing the fabric, a jolt of heat, of desire, of-- something passed from her to him and back.

“You-- want to go to one of the all night pancake houses up the way and buy a girl a cup of coffee?” her mouth said before her brain engaged. She never asked anyone on a date, even if she was interested. 

“Yes,” Bucky said, and his voice was husky and seductive. “I would like that very much, I think.”

[canttelliotte-blog]

Incredibly long, overly detailed post I spent too much time on.

Tl:dr AITA for telling someone they were coming off as an ungrateful, privileged asshole who didn't seem to recognize or truly appreciate what they have? I blew up after a series of encounters, they seemed oblivious to their lifestyle and support and how truly different life could have turned out without it. I called them out after weeks of trying to be empathetic but couldn't take how helpless they were acting when I would kill for the kind the support they were complaining about and taking for granted.  

I should use a throwaway because I know this person will probably see this but I don't have the energy. I'll try to keep this short (actually super long sorry) I feel like I already know I was sort of harsh and out of line. This whole thing has just been sticking with me and I feel really messed up about it.  

Alright, so context, back story. I had a breakdown in February and tried to kill myself. By some miracle, I got a bed at one of the best mental hospitals on this side of the east coast. After a long history of chronic mental illness, being on disability for years with medicare, getting an opportunity like this was amazing. I had been on waiting lists for months before my attempt, but fate, acuity, and availability all lined up. A true miracle. Unless you have a family with money or amazing health insurance, getting a bed is just extremely difficult at this particular facility.  

The reason being, they provide real treatment. Comprehensive, attentive, life-saving treatment. They actually provide real care with empathy, actual therapy, psychiatry, and groups, with educated staff, real food to eat, world-renowned providers, and treatment teams that listen and work with you to come up with effective long-term solutions/aftercare plans that set you up for long term success.  

Out of pocket, this place is unfathomably expensive. The more exclusive programs on-campus are for the ultra-elite/ ultra-wealthy, taking celebrities like Selena Gomez. The institution itself is known for its education and research. It is not funded by the state like almost everywhere else. Most state-run facilities are atrocious. a disgusting holding cell, where you're stripped of your clothes, dignity, and rights, fed prison food, overmedicated, physically and chemically restrained, only to be thrown back on the street in 3-5 days with no aftercare, med refills, or plan. Been there, done that, many times, not the point. The point was, I got some really helpful expensive ass treatment by the luck of the draw.  

While I was there, I met someone lovely. We instantly connected and expressed interest in one another. They seemed really cool, we talked at length about income inequality and how unfair it was that this kind of treatment wasn't the norm or easily accessible and how unfair that was. They seemed passionate and bright and we got along great. They were set to discharge only a few days after I got there, so we exchanged info before they left. We talked a bunch while I was still there (my discharge was a couple of weeks later) and decided to go on a few dates after I got out.  

A few days after I got out, I unintendedly overdosed, confused about my meds, and was incoherent by the time I got to the ER. I was restrained and chemically sedated. I was confused and fought so was deemed severely acute, and got sent to a state-run facility similar to what I described above. It was all very traumatic and I shut down once I got home. I was lucky I made it out semi-okay, that they let me out at all.  

I wasn't replying to anyone's messages but the person I had met kept reaching out wanting to hear from me and make sure I was okay. I was embarrassed but it was really sweet and soon we starting talking a lot again and really connecting.  

As I got to know them, I definitely thought they were very cool, we seemed to have a lot in common, they made me laugh and we got along really well. I was really digging them and saw us potentially becoming a thing.  After talking for some time, we decided to anxiously have our first date. It went okay but something was off.  

I didn't really pick up on it at first but the more we talked, the more privileged they offhandedly revealed they were. I know it's judge-y and lame, but that kind of put me off. I've been poor my whole life and struggled hard for everything, it's a whole different world living in poverty, so it made me a bit uncomfortable.  I still live in poverty, on disability, with food stamps, and can barely hold it together enough to have a part-time job, but I have no choice. It's rough. I've been homeless, lived in institutions, went through foster care, and have no familial support. I have one of the most serious debilitating mental illnesses. It's been very very hard.  

I am biased but I haven't met anyone well off who gets it. Some people don't realize how hard things can be when you've really had nothing, and had to work hard for everything. Even simple things are taken for granted, not understood, or there are miscommunications or assumptions made due to the lack of understanding. That's just my personal experience, it's hard trying to explain things and it's invalidating sometimes, it can be hard to relate or connect due to the lack of understanding.  

Honestly, though, it took me by surprise. We had both talked passionately about the struggles of being on disability, the importance of income inequality, how unfair the system is set up, the barriers against the poor receiving adequate mental health treatment. They explained how they advocated for social justice and regularly went to protests. I felt dumb because I did meet them at higher-end facility, but I assumed they ended up there by dumb luck as I did with how they presented and initially came across.  

They made it seem like we were in the same boat, poor af, chronically mentally ill, and 4 ever struggling. It was just a surprise because that was very much was not the case.  

They moved up here from Florida, (where admittedly their life was much harder and different), but since moving, they were being supported by their aunt and uncle, who were very, very well off. They had a very expensive private practice psychiatrist, multiple treatment providers, and an apartment in a very well-off area, that their aunt owned, so they paid no rent.  Their car/insurance/phone everything was paid for.  

They seemed to have money to burn, dancing around being well taken care of and not really having to worry. They were on disability though receiving payments and food stamps in addition, not reporting the assistance from their family. When I lightly inquired, they said their grandmother mostly controlled their finances and they didn't deal with bills etc. They spent freely, getting take out almost every night, etc. enjoying all the pleasure of life without a second thought.  

I was uncomfortable with this like I said, but they did seem cool and understanding, we did get along and I wanted to give them a chance. I put my biased experience aside and tried to give it a go.  

First example that really blew me away was their dog. They had several animals, including a cat and two dogs. Even for someone working, three animals is a huge expense. I only have one cat and while she's my world, it gets hard sometimes. The vet is expensive, litter, food, treats, it adds up. And she's only one animal!!! I provide for her and take care of her, but a $350 vet bill still packs a punch. Of course, I pay it, she's my baby, but it might mean only eating sandwiches for a few weeks. I love her, so I sacrifice, she is worth it in every way, but animals are expensive and a lot of work/responsibility.  

When this person and I first started seriously talking, they mentioned the dog they were closest to was very sick with a rare condition. I don't know the full details, but I guess it took a while for the vet to figure out what was wrong, he was on a lot of medications, needed loads of tests and scans. There were weeks of extensive treatments/ blood transfusions, all in a long, painful, and strenuous attempt to save him. They tried for a long time in the hopes he would get better.  

He, unfortunately, passed away a few weeks after we started talking. It was devastating to them and I tried my best to be supportive and help them grieve. They were understandably at a huge loss. Their mental health tanked. Their dog meant the world to them, I understand that completely. Pets are family.    

A few weeks after he passed. They were talking a little about the course of treatment and how hard it had been and what a long, painful road it was. They kind of casually remarked that his treatment cost over $20,000.  

I honestly thought I had misheard. I had to ask twice because I thought they meant $2,000. No. $20,000. $20,000.Holy shit.    

I just...$20,000 is what I make in a year. A year. Dogs are family, I totally, totally get that. People will do anything to save their loved ones. A pet is like an uninsured child, even with pet insurance, it can be expensive. I get that. If you have that kind of money, you pay it, without a thought, no problem.  

I just... wow. I still couldn't even wrap my mind around it. My cat is my world but it breaks my heart to say, if anything happened to her like that, it would kill me, but I would be forced to put her down. I just couldn't believe, $20,000. And they said it like, no big deal, of course, like anyone would/could afford that, it was obvious, a no-brainer. I just...wow.  

Next, kicker. I  came over to hang out one night and watch movies. I had never been to their apartment before. They claimed it had been super messy and they made a big deal about how they had cleaned for me. Sweet, but unnecessary, I get mental illness is tough. It was two bedrooms, all to themselves, decent space and light, but definitely scattered and cluttered. They had a huge king-sized bed, a bidet in the bathroom, and a super nice living room set up. Big comfy couch, loads of nice blankets, and honestly the biggest tv I had ever seen. They joking bragged about having all the streaming options. No kidding. Hulu, Disney plus, Netflix, Amazon, HBO, Paramount, and at least half a dozen more I hadn't even heard of. It just seemed crazy and excessive paying for that many streaming services every month.  But to each their own I guess.

We were both huge fans of anime, and they sort of decided to venture to studio ghibli. They asked if I had seen a particular favorite of theirs. I hadn't. They searched and it was only available to rent. $17. I nearly had a heart attack. I was like no way, we could definitely find it streaming for free somewhere if we look, or watch something else, shortage of options. They were like no it's no biggie that's what I want to watch and clicked rent. Like no problem *sweats intensely* Anytime I spend money, I have a heart attack and second guess it, it takes me like 10 minutes to click buy and my heart always drops when I do. I overthink, whether I really need/deserve it/whether there's a cheaper option, or if it's truly necessary. I know that's a poverty thing. It's just like we could have easily found it somewhere for free with a little effort!  

We go to order food, we both have celiac so finding takeout is a chore. They knew the area better so I was trusting them. They were very adamant about ordering expensive sushi. It was $36 for just one of the things they wanted. Not including delivery or tips or fees or anything else, which included appetizers and drinks, the whole nine. I wasn't feeling sushi. They were like fine, we'll order from two separate places then. Double the delivery fee, not something I ever do, it would be cheaper finding a place together, I could get something small and affordable but they wouldn't budge. I didn't really have money to order a big thing on my own, I wanted something small, but I felt pressured. I figured anything I got would be cheaper than having to split a big sushi order I didn't want. I was like okay fine.  

They kind of seemed annoyed that I didn't just give in and get sushi. They were a little short with me, didn't give me many options of other places, and were weirdly controlling, not letting me look at their phone to find something. I kind of gave up and said like just a burger is fine. I figured it would be cheap and filling, probably $20 max. I didn't take into consideration that they live in an extremely expensive area. It ended up being almost $30, plus tip. For a burger. I almost wanted to cry. I would have picked somewhere else cheaper given the option. They didn't even tell me the price until after they ordered it. I was like oh how much like $15 and they were so casual like oh no, $30 with tip. When it arrived, it was cold and disgusting, really inedible. I picked at the fries, which gave me a stomach ache as they were not gluten-free friendly and had been cross-contaminated in the fryer. I assumed they picked a place that they knew was safe.  

When I wasn't eating, they asked if it was bad. I said yeah and they were like oh well just order something else. Like no, I can't afford anything else, it doesn't work like that. I was like no it's fine I'm not really that hungry. I wanted to say, I trusted you, and you kinda fucked me. I guess they picked that place because there was a gluten-free brownie sundae (prepackaged and not cross-contaminated) on the menu that they really wanted. Obviously more important.  

My stomach ached all night. They ate their food happily. No big deal to them, $30 wasted on food I didn't really want, that I couldn't end up eating and got me sick. If it were them, they would have just ordered something else. No big deal to them. It was more important they got their brownie sundae and expensive sushi than making sure I was able to get something edible. Didn't matter that was half my grocery money for the week. Bologna sandwiches it'll have to be then. Awesome.  

We spent the night talking, I didn't let on to how sick I was or that I was upset about not being able to choose food. They picked all the movies. I wanted to go home, but it just got later and later, one more movie I just *needed* to see. I asked them several times as the clock was ticking if it was getting too late to drive me home. No, no they were fine. Let's just watch another one. Then casually, they went to their room and brought out their night meds, threw 'em back, and settled into the couch. I started to panic. I asked again, you're taking me home, right? I guess they decided they weren't. I was miles away from home, no public transit running or close by. They were like oh I'm so tired, it got so late. Just order a car. I pulled up uber, $25. That would definitely overdraft my account.  

Thankfully, after they saw me sweating and looking panicked, they were like, oh, I feel so bad, I'll order the uber for you. (If they hadn’t, I would have had to explain like, getting home on my own wasn't the plan nor was staying the night. If they thought I would be cool with just staying, they should have said something, if they wanted me to stay, it should have been a discussion, not a surprise.)  

I just felt really disrespected. I was simultaneously hungry and sick from dinner, broke and unprepared to stay over with no prior discussion. I didn't have meds, my cat didn't have food out, I was blindsided and essentially stranded/put in an awkward position. They didn't consider that it might be stressful or beyond my limitations to get home. Being able to just roll with punches isn't financially feasible for everyone. It just felt like they were self-centered and inconsiderate. The whole night was what they wanted, what they wanted to eat, where they wanted to order from, what they wanted to watch, changing plans to what was convenient for them without any regard toward how it might impact me. Just inconsiderate and self-centered behavior.  

We did keep talking though, I just sort of chalked it up to miscommunication and sort of beat myself up for not speaking up. It was weird though, kept just casually mentioning shit that was so privileged and complaining about shit that made them sound so ungrateful. I don't think they realized how it came across, just completely oblivious to their access to resources and not appreciating their position or supports.  

They started talking about starting ketamine treatments to combat their ongoing depression. They had received them in the past and went on about how life-changing and helpful it was, and that everyone should try it. Now, being on disability (and even with most insurances) the treatments are not covered. The clinics that administer them are all out of pocket, bougie as fuck, and extremely expensive.  

They talked about having several rounds in the past like it was nothing. It's easily $250-400 a pop and they were going 1-2x a week for a long time. They kept talking about all their options like what a painstaking burden. Should they start with lozenges and work up to IV clinic or ask for patches, and start that way. They wanted to work up to twice a week again but their family was giving pushback. They wanted me to agree with them, saying it was so unfair and lame and unreasonable/closeminded of their family for not immediately agreeing. The same family that would be footing the bill.  No, not unfair or unreasonable at all. You sound privileged as fuck.  

I was super bothered they were endlessly going on about it and complaining about pushback and asking me to agree with them. My treatment-resistant depression hasn't responded to anything, I've been on every waiting list for MDMA-assisted treatment whenever they pop up but never been selected due to demand and availability. Even ECT is too expensive and not covered. I'd kill for an opportunity like that! And it wasn't even like their family was saying no, they were discussing it in family therapy and seriously considering it.  

They talked about it so nonchalantly and kept going on and on about how amazing it was. Like great, tell me all about something else I'll never be able to afford. I'm sure Paris is great, and backpacking across Europe is awesome, like please do tell me more.  

I finally mentioned like okay that sounds great, will never able to afford it, glad it's so helpful They told me that I could just buy it off the street. That's what they used to do occasionally. It's only a couple hundred dollars and you get way more. Like oh okay. Let me just not pay a third of my rent in the hopes that this jam band kids ketamine isn't fentanyl or some shit and maybe have a shot at not wanting to kill myself for a week, you know on the off chance it works. Sounds great, super safe, much more affordable. And like as ridiculous as it was to offer that as an alternative, that still wouldn't be something I could afford! They just came off so clueless and privileged and oblivious.

What really got me was how they eventually talked about their family. They did weekly family therapy with their aunt and uncle and occasionally their dad since moving up here. They stayed with their aunt and uncle (lived down the street) more often than not so they weren't alone. This was encouraged/appreciated/welcomed. They did activities together regularly to help with depression and loneliness/ managing symptoms. They had their grandma and brother, whom they saw often and cherished greatly. They portrayed the relationships as really solid and important. I thought wow, truly wholesome and wonderful.  They seemed so loved, close, connected, cared for, and supported. Across the board, they had support.  

But then tables would turn. They complained often their family was too close, too conservative, and not understanding. They didn't want them so involved in their life, their treatment, decision-making, and recovery process. They resented the support, complained they weren't a kid and were capable/in sound mind to make decisions/have control of their life. I tried to listen and be understanding but I didn't get it. They came off almost like a spoiled, ungrateful teenager.  

You're getting help, love, and support all around, everyone wants to support you and see you do well and will give whatever that takes. Like legitimately whatever ?!?  You don't have to work, pay for anything, and it is made sure you don't have to struggle for anything. Anything you need, you've got.  

I get the concept that having family so close/involved could be crippling or invasive or just downright unproductive. But it was such a slap in the face they would complain to me of all people about having that kind of support.  

Family/support is such a foreign concept to me personally. Like I said, I grew up in foster care. I've never had family involved, healthy relationships, or any sort of support like that. The concept of calling your aunt when you're sad and she offers kind words, support, and tells you to come over to do something fun? Like, can't relate. I could only take so much of them complaining about being taken care of.  

Living with extreme mental illness, not being able to work for periods of time, living solely on disability paychecks and food stamps is damn is impossible to survive, especially where we live. Without the help they were being given, they wouldn't be able to survive. The cost of living is out of control, you can't even rent a room with a single disability payment. I know, I'm doing it. It takes everything for me to keep a part-time job, barely making enough to make ends meet. But if I don't. I'm homeless again. No matter what, no matter how bad symptoms get. And I have one of the hardest, most debilitating mental illnesses. I don't have any other choice.  

Their aunt would pay for them to go to school or learn a trade or anything they wanted. They have a world-renowned private practice doctor that prescribes them literally anything they could want or need to help and they have a great bond/ working relationship. I have a psych who can barely remember my name and sees me for 5-15 minutes maybe once or twice a month. I was asking for medications recently to get through a hard time, nothing serious, but my state-assigned psych does not prescribe benzos. Period. Neither does my PCP. It's state rehab or psych facility for me or bust. Another thing they take for granted. They almost bragged to me about immediately getting two heavy-duty benzos and another maintenance medication,  just by saying their panic attacks were slighting increasing. Meanwhile. I was at risk for DT's after relapsing and begging for basic Librium to maybe not die and was denied.  

The real reality of being on disability is the bare minimum or bad treatment. My psychologist is thankfully amazing but it took 10 years and hitting absolute rock bottom and being homeless to find her. She's a diamond in the rough but only works with the sickest of the sick. I would be in a state institution right now if it weren't for her and I avoided it by the skin of my teeth.  

So here's where I'm probably the asshole. After weeks, I broke. We were texting as usual and they started to sort of mope and complain. They were venting about having a hard time again and how symptoms were bad and there was just nothing they could do and it was so hard. They started going on about how helpless they were and how there was no opportunity to get better and everything was just super hard and impossible for them and how rough they had it. Their family was checking in on them too much and they were annoyed at them for being concerned and that they had no options and no chance and everything was just so hard and impossible.  

I understand, that's depression. I'm pretty empathetic and understanding and have been up to this point but it just felt like the rich person complaining to the homeless guy sleeping on the street, how awful it was they forgot their umbrella that day, and how unfortunate it was to be getting wet. I just wanted to scream. If you're anxious take your benzos, take your other meds! Call your aunt. Text your on call therapist. Call your fancy psych who answers night and day. Utilize any of the resources you have and all the support you are given!    

I was just tired of it. Things in my life have been super difficult, especially lately, and I have to figure it out alone. The voices were getting loud again which lead to a bad relapse that went off the rails, which I had to pull out of completely unassisted. I am in between jobs, my housing isn't stable, my bank accounts are low, my mental health is chronic and very severe, my treatment team was threatening to section me if I didn't reel it in. Things were bad. But I deal with it, alone.    

I know it was wrong of me, but I couldn't take it. They have everything to help themselves!!! They could go to a fancy hospital, they could ask all their supports for help! They would receive the best care. All the medicines, the best treatment. Anything.  

I basically kind of spelled it out for them. You have privilege, you have support, you have money, resources, a great treatment team, family, everything... please for the love of God, USE IT! You wouldn't have to worry about losing your job going into treatment, you wouldn't lose your housing. You wouldn't have to worry about falling behind on bills. You'd be fine.  

How can you not see or appreciate all you have and or see how oblivious and privileged you come across and how hurtful that is? You're complaining to the wrong person.

I went on a bit too long. I was definitely coming from a place of hurt, mental illness, and jealousy. I wasn't trying to make them feel bad, I just wanted them to understand. That kind of support would make all the difference for so many that are struggling. They are sitting with gallons of water around them, complaining to be inconsolably parched and that don't know what to do, all while sort of offhandedly bragging about how much water they have and how they can easily get more. I've been carefully conserving a 16 oz Poland spring bottle, rationing for weeks not knowing if/when I will be able to refill. They aren't alone, expected to make it on just disability. They weren't recognizing their position, how they were coming across, how hurtful that was. I didn't get anyone to catch me, love me, support me. This is the real reality of living with extreme mental illness on disability looks like without that opportunity or support. This is hard fucking work. We are not the same. You got lucky. Now do something with it.

They ended up calling me a dick, saying I didn't understand, that I was being cruel and mean for no reason. We haven't talked since. I do feel bad, I just couldn't take it anymore.  

So if you made it this far, lay it on me, AITA?      

[ofmermaidsandmarauders]

stolen dreams took our childish days - chapter 2

Read on AO3, FF, or below the Read More

February 2020

It was Fergus’ first day back to school and he was dreading it. His stomach was in knots and despite Jamie’s best efforts, he was essentially refusing to eat the pancakes that are placed in front of him.

“C’mon, lad. I even made them into wee Mickey’s!” Jamie stared at Fergus for a moment before letting his own shoulders fall. “Fine, fine. Eat some of yer fruit and then we’ll head off to school.”

Fergus felt like this was a fair trade-off, so he took a few bites of the berries that were on the plate. He knew that he had survived a school day on less. In fact, this meal was like a feast fit for kings. Claire and Jamie had wanted to make his first day back special, and he knew they were just trying to be nice, but it was making him more nervous. He was afraid that his friends would notice a new family dropping him off and ask questions. His teacher would likely know what had happened, and her eyes would be full of the pity that usually shone through after something tragic like this. 

He had observed the change last time it happened in front of his own eyes. He had only been six when his teacher asked where the bruise on his shoulder had come from. Fergus had tried his best to hide it but the shirt he was wearing was dirty and had slouched off while he was taking his coat off after their recess break. Looking at the bruise, he had just shrugged it off.

“Oh, that’s just from my mom’s boyfriend. He was angry last night.” His answer had been so matter-of-fact. He was only six. How was he to know that it wasn’t the norm? Most mommies didn’t have boyfriends who hit their six-year-old children. His teacher’s eyes had instantly shone with tears and from then on had looked at him with this pity and sadness. She had called someone. The police, maybe? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that the next night, an officer and a caseworker had shown up at his mom’s door. They had talked with his mom for a while. Her boyfriend wasn’t there after they had gotten into a fight. The officer and caseworker had left after pulling Fergus aside and reminding him that if anyone ever hurt him he should tell a teacher at school again.

The minute they had left, Fergus’ mother was in tears and approaching him. Her hands were shaking and he noticed that she looked more tired than usual.

“What the hell did you do that for, kid? Can you imagine if Adam had actually been here? You would’ve gotten him in so much trouble! He didn’t mean to hurt you the other day!” She seemed to just be ranting at him rather than talking to him, so Fergus kept his mouth shut. Claudia was distressed, tugging her hands through her long, curly hair. It looked like she hadn’t showered in a few days. “God, it was just an accident.”

With an eye roll, she walked away from Fergus without another word. Not even to hear him whisper that it was all on accident, too. He hadn’t meant to tell. Moving forward he promised not to talk about his home life. None of the bad stuff. Unfortunately for him, his teacher had also vowed to keep an eye on him. For another month it was okay. A caseworker came out occasionally to check in with Fergus and Claudia. Adam somehow was never around when the caseworker came, but he didn’t care. It was less of a chance of something bad happening.

Almost a month to the day, Fergus came in with finger marks on his upper arms, peeking out from under the hem of his sleeves. There was also a long scratch on his chin he tried to blame on a cat, but his teacher was smart. She knew Fergus didn’t have any pets from their introduction assignment at the start of the year. She knew what the bruises meant and she called the police to come and take Fergus away.

He didn’t think it was fair. He had to leave and Adam got to stay with Claudia. Why was Fergus the one who had to leave his mom? Why didn’t they make Adam go away forever? If he would just go away, Claudia could be happy again. He could make his mom happy.

“Fergus, I asked are ye ready to go to school?” Fergus snapped out of his reverie and saw that Jamie was looking at him with a broad smile on his face, the brand new navy backpack hanging by his side. 

“Oui,” he mumbled, leaving his uneaten breakfast on the table and taking his belongings from the man’s hand. He looked happy to be taking Fergus to school. Adam used to complain when he had to walk Fergus a few blocks to his class. 

Fergus wondered when Jamie would start to get annoyed.

It was Thursday evening and Fergus was completing his homework while Claire finished up with some chores. Jamie had gone to pick up their dinner, a treat, and a surprise, he had said. She just laughed and waved him off as she tried to finish the laundry.

“Claire, have you seen my green blanket?” Fergus asked from the other room, having finished with his work. She popped her head in and nodded, the laundry basket in her arms.

“Yes, just finishing some laundry. I washed it so it’ll be clean. I’ll put it in your room before bed, don’t worry.” She assumed that he would be settled by this, but instead Fergus’ face appeared to grow red and he seemed to shake. His whole body was trembling, fists clenched at his sides.

“Why would you do that?!” The words came from his mouth like a burst of anger, raising to a decibel she didn’t even know he had in him.

“I… I just thought that you’d want it clean. For the… For bedtime,” Claire started stammering over her words, not sure what the issue is.

“I didn’t want it washed! I want you to leave my stuff alone! Do you hear me? Don’t touch my stuff! Don’t touch my stuff!!” He kept screaming, the tears running down his cheeks now. Claire stood frozen in the doorway, the laundry basket now feeling like it had concrete loaded inside.

“I’m… Oh, Fergus. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know…” she whispered, her own tears filling her eyes. 

Fergus knew that it was an accident. Claire was just being nice, but he didn’t care. It was the only way that he was still connected to his mom. His caseworker still hadn’t told Claire or Jamie when he could start visiting her again. Last time it had been over two weeks. What if it took longer this time? At least with the blanket, he could hold it tight and smell her, but Claire had taken that from him. Just like they had taken him from Claudia.

“Go away!” he yelled angrily, running to shove the door closed before she could come in. He didn’t care if it was going to hit her, Fergus just wanted her out of his face. 

Claire looked at the mix of laundry in her basket, letting the tears fall only after Fergus had effectively shut her out. She barely made it to her own bedroom before breaking down into hiccuping sobs. It hadn’t even been a week and she had already done something to make him hate her so.

Most foster parents spoke of the ‘honeymoon’ stage with a child. The child would be on their best behavior, no tantrums, no acting out, for at least a few weeks. They had all sworn it up and down in the classes. The worst part is that she didn’t even blame Fergus. She had obviously broken a boundary that he had set without realizing it. She was the only one to blame.

Claire wasn’t sure how long she lay in the bed, frozen with tear tracks on her cheeks when Jamie came into the room. 

“Claire?” he asked softly, moving to push some hair off of her cheek. It took a slight tug, glued to her skin by the saltwater that had dried. “What’s wrong, mo chridhe?” 

“He hates me,” she whimpered pathetically. Claire couldn’t bring herself to look at him. There was a reason she couldn’t have children. She couldn’t be a mother. She wasn’t meant to be a mother because she was bad at it.

“Claire, I’m sure he doesn’t hate ye. What happened? I was barely gone for twenty minutes, ye ken? I come home and ye’re crying yer eyes out and he’s in there throwin’ a wee fit.” Jamie had a slight smile on his face despite the situation, knowing that the two had obviously gone at it.

“I was just trying to wash his things. He just… He flipped out. He was angry I touched his things. And he’s right. I should’ve asked. I don’t know what he’s been through. They say in the classes that personal items from home can be a major trigger and look at what I’ve done! I just disrespected his boundaries!”

“Christ! Claire, ye ken that there was no way for ye to… Ye had to do the laundry.” Jamie pulled her into his arms, letting her rest between his thighs with her head against his shoulder. She took a deep breath and then let it out, her breath covering his skin in a sad exhale.

“Yes, but I should have asked what he needed to be washed,” she insisted, trying to find some way to make herself at fault. He knew what path she was heading down and was determined to steer her from it.

“Claire, ye ken that ye did nothing wrong. Now, we will go in there and deal with the lad, but I need ye to see that yer doing a wonderful job as a mother. Besides, ‘tis only the sixth day together. There will be plenty more fights where that one came from,” Jamie reassured her as his hands slid down her arms. She leaned back to look him in the eye and finally cracked a smile. 

“You’re right. We can fix this. He can’t stay mad forever, can he?” She smiled a little more and placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I love you.”

“I love ye, Sassenach.” Jamie guided her to stand by her hips before standing on his own. 

Knocking on Fergus’ bedroom door, Jamie called out to him and heard a feeble mumble.

“I’m going to take that as an agreement that we can come inside,” Jamie called through the door, opening it a crack. Fergus was curled up in the window seat, his own tears now dried. His things had been tossed about within his bedroom, obviously the aftermath of a tornado tantrum.

“Och, now, what’s the matter, lad? I understand that ye were upset but ye canna leave yer room in such a state. Let’s clean it together and then we’ll all talk over dinner.” Jamie looked proud of himself, and Fergus perked up a bit at the thought of dinner. He was very hungry after his tantrum. “I brought home Italian. Spaghetti, meatballs, chicken parmigiana, and the likes!” 

“Alright,” he agreed, moving to grab the closest toy, opening the window seat where he stored most of his unused things.

With the room clean and the three of them settled at the table, Jamie glanced between his wife and their newest addition. The two of them both appeared uncomfortable. He nudged Claire’s shin with his toes, arching an eyebrow. She needed to be the one to fix this.

“Fergus… I…” She trailed off, chewing on her lower lip for a moment before sighing. “I’m sorry for touching your things. I didn’t understand how important they were to you and I should have asked you to give me what you wanted to be washed. I hope you can forgive me.” 

He stared at Claire for a moment, blinking repeatedly before nodding. Jamie watched the boy for a moment, waiting for him to say something, though he remained silent.

“Fergus, Claire just apologized. Can ye acknowledge her apology?”

“Oh, um…” Fergus looked nervous, his fork pushing some of the spaghetti around on his plate, though no effort was made to eat any of it. “I’m sorry I got mad at you, Claire. It’s just…” He froze, realizing that he was about to reveal exactly what had upset him. For a minute, he wasn’t sure he should say anything. What if they laughed at him? But then again, no. They had helped him clean up his room, even though the mess was his fault. And Jamie didn’t look mad at him for yelling at Claire. In fact, he looked like he was actually trying to take Fergus’ side and make things better. 

“I just miss my mom. She gave me that blanket and it smelled like her so now it won’t. And I was really mad at you, Claire. But I’m sorry I yelled and that I threw my stuff and made you guys help me clean. I won’t do it again I promise. Please don’t be mad at me, okay?” The words tumbled out of him faster than he could think them. 

Once Fergus realized the gravity of what he had done, he was suddenly even more anxious that he would carry the weight of the blame for the situation, and the two would want to be rid of him. He had heard of kids being kicked out for less.

“Oh, Fergus. Honey… I…” Claire trailed off, her eyes fresh with tears as she stood from her chair and crouched in front of him again. Get on their level. That’s what all the books and blogs had said. Get to their level so they feel like they’re being heard. Well, she was trying that approach again, hoping that he knew how sorry she was. “I never should have touched your personal things. I’m so sorry for washing your blanket. I can’t imagine how much you miss your mum.” Her hand smoothed down his thick curls, a sad smile gracing her features.

“Och, lad. Of course ye were upset. Only an accident though, aye?” Fergus looked up at Jamie’s words, a flush of anger spreading over him before realizing that Jamie wasn’t mocking him. He had a similar smile to Claire’s, his own hand reaching over to rest on Claire’s shoulder. Claire didn’t look like she was in pain though, not the way that his mom did when Adam put his hand there. In fact, Claire reached up and squeezed Jamie’s hand, like she wanted him to hold her.

“Yeah, just an accident. I’m sorry for yelling,” he told Claire again, placing his own hand on her forearm. Their limbs all created a link, connecting them together as they got through their first argument as a family.

“Fergus, maybe tomorrow we can call Ms. Sutton and see how soon you can see your mom? If it’s not going to be for a while, we can see if she’ll let us call your mom in the meantime. Do you think that would help?” Claire’s offer was one that was foreign to him. Nobody had ever sought out his mom. Nobody had ever tried to offer him that lifeline before. Fergus nodded enthusiastically and leaped into Claire’s arms, hugging her tightly around the neck.

“Thank you, thank you. Merci, merci, merci!” He repeated over and over into her curly hair, tears filling his eyes.