#cw stillborn mention

[faraway-monsters]

Just a quick question, but how did kel died? 

//Content Warning: infant mortality

His death isn't as spectacular as Mari's. Sometimes, things just go wrong.

[bumblesimagines]

Burning Love

Request: Yes or No

Summary: As the eldest son and heir to the Iron Throne, Prince (Y/N) Targaryen has many responsibilities; most of which his darling sister hopes to share with him one day.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

TW/CW: Targcest/Incest (Full-blooded Brother-Sister), Aemma lives!! and Alicent is not a childbride, mentions of stillbirths and miscarriages (Aemma's pregnancies)

Collecting HOTD oneshots like pokemon cards at this point

~~~

It was known that Targaryens had... questionable traditions. Traditions those with outsider perspective could only force themself to understand.

There was the act of putting a dragon egg in the cradle of a babe and hoping the egg would hatch sometime soon after to ensure the babe was bonded to a loyal protector they'd grow up alongside of; a tradition started by Rhaena Targaryen, eldest daughter of King Aenys I and Queen Alyssa Velaryon. Targaryens were Dragonriders, bonded with the very beasts they used to conquer the lands and pull them all into one kingdom (with the exception of Dorne, of course). They cremated their dead, a custom from Old Valyria, often with the help of a dragon belonging to their closest kin. 

And of course, the most infamous and often looked down upon custom, wedding kin to kin. Another custom from Old Valyria that many followers of the Seven turned their cheek upon, for they found the act of wedding siblings to siblings and so forth (apart from cousin to cousin) a sin. Faithful followers could voice their complaints as much as they wished, but Targaryens were kings, queens, princes, and princesses. Nobody could or would stop them from keeping their bloodline pure if they so wished. 

Descending from a long, historic, and proud family, Rhaenyra grew up listening and learning the tales of those who'd come before her. Aegon the Conquer and his faithful sister-wives, Rhaenys and Visenya; the many rebellions and fighting brought on during the lives of King Aenys I and King Maegor the Cruel; The Old King Jaehaerys who'd chosen her father, Viserys, as heir over his own late heir's daughter, Rhaenys; and of course, the histories written during the early stages of her father's reign. 

Her beloved older brother had been two when King Jaehaerys named their father heir and three when their father ascended the throne whilst their beautiful mother, Aemma Arryn, carried her in the womb. The fourth person to ever hold little Rhaenyra in their arms had been her brother, closely supervised by their parents and the maester attending the birth, of course. With a healthy son and daughter, Viserys and Aemma hardly needed for more children, but they tried anyway. Their attempts never carried to term, however, and any little ones that did were either stillborn or died mere hours or days after birth. 

Still, Rhaenyra never needed for any more siblings. Her brother was enough, in her humble opinion. He cared for her diligently, especially during their younger years when he eagerly wished to play with her, even if it meant the two of them being gently scolded at the end of the day for dirting Rhaenyra's dresses with mud and dirt. (Y/N) treated her as his equal, even showing her how to use a wooden sword when he began his training and helping prepare her for dragon-riding on Syrax. His own mount hardly needed much training in the Dragonpit, for the mighty Vermithor's first rider had been the Old King.

As time passed, the siblings were forced apart more often than Rhaenyra enjoyed. She'd made up her mind long ago that she and (Y/N) would one day be wed, and she'd be his formidable sister-wife. Their parents merely chuckled about it when she'd first told them at the age of seven, her squeaky voice and flushed cheeks only drawing cooing from Aemma and sweet smiles from Viserys. The absence of her brother had been stark, his time taken up by training, studying, and spending time with the Small Council, but Alicent Hightower had quickly taken his spot as Rhaenyra's companion. 

However, in due time, (Y/N) became man-grown, and while Rhaenyra quickly followed with her flowering, as heir and prince, (Y/N) became the most eligible bachelor in all of Westeros. It took time for it to become apparent to Rhaenyra but her eyes and ears opened when she heard their parents speaking of it. Many families, highborn and lowborn, offered their daughters through letters or visits to Kings Landing. Lannisters, Baratheons, Starks, Brackens, Blackwoods, Tullys, and plenty more came forth. Even Otto Hightower made a passing comment about wedding Alicent to him. It was infuriating.

"In truth, I do not understand your irritation, Rhaenyra," Alicent spoke gently, her slender fingers working on embroidery. A flower she'd seen in the gardens, or something along those lines. Rhaenyra hadn't truly been paying attention to her dear friend. She'd been too focused on silently fuming at the sight of her brother showing one of the highborn ladies around the Red Keep. Every giggle, every blush, every bat of her eyelashes made Rhaenyra tick. "It's wonderful to watch one's brother fall in love."

"You wouldn't understand, Alicent." Rhaenyra sighed. "It is like the love King Jaeherys and the Good Queen Alysanne had."

Alicent faltered at her words, her head lifting to eye her friend with a small grimace. "You do remember our lessons, correct? King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne had to wed in secret, for they knew that not even their mother approved in fear of another uprising from the Faith. Nobody has made a fuss over your parents since they are cousins, but who knows what may happen if you wed (Y/N)."

"(Y/N) is everything King Jaehaerys was, Alicent. He is beloved by the Realm." Rhaenyra reminded her friend with a small smile, pushing herself off the cushioned seats and smoothing her hands over the front of her dress. Her earrings swung slightly when she tilted her head slightly to the side, the ends of them brushing against her shoulders. Her eyes tracked (Y/N) as he lifted the lady's hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles before departing. "He will be a good king, and if I could prove it, I would be a good queen. His queen." Her feet began moving automatically. 

"Rhaenyra," The name tumbled out of Alicent's mouth, her hands fumbling with the items in hand. "Where are you going?"

Bunching up the skirt of her dress in her hands, Rhaenyra grinned over her shoulder and chuckled at the concerned look on Alicent's features that only grew at the sight of her mischievous glint. "To speak with my brother!" 

With a goal in mind, Rhaenyra entered the castle and followed the distant figure of her brother as he cut down hallways with long strides until he reached his bedchambers. Rhaenyra took a moment to herself to catch her breath and rake her fingers through her long silver locks before she approached the doors and nodded for the guards to open them. She stepped inside, a smile appearing across her lips when (Y/N) turned to look at her. 

"My favorite sister," (Y/N) cooed, taking a seat at his desk and unrolling a letter. Rhaenyra rolled her eyes in return, clasping her hands together behind her back and taking small steps toward him. He skimmed the contents of the letter, his face giving away nothing of what it spoke of. "Is there something you require, Nyra, or are you suffering from boredom? I have plenty of lords and ladies who'd be happy to keep you busy." 

Rhaenyra scoffed quietly and (Y/N) gave a small grin. "I hear Father is urging you to find a wife."

"The Small Council is urging him to urge me, more like. They believe it is time to begin having children. Seeing as Father and Mother had great difficulty, they wish for me to have an heir by the time I ascend the throne to ensure there won't be issues later on." (Y/N) explained, coiling the letter back up and pulling out a blank paper. He dipped his quill in ink and began writing. "Otto has been... more friendly as of recently. He speaks incredibly highly of Lady Alicent." 

"You'd tell me if you were interested in someone, wouldn't you?" Rhaenyra reached over the desk to pluck the quill from his fingers, setting it aside and raising her brows at him. (Y/N) slumped back in his seat and laced his fingers over his midsection, a hint of amusement twinkling in his eyes. Rhaenyra rounded the table and without thinking twice, she plopped down on his thigh. 

"Nyra,"

"You know as well as I do who you should wed, (Y/N). I know what a good queen should be, and I do not care about status or riches like the families of those ladies do. We have the blood of the dragon in our veins. Nobody would truly understand us." Rhaenyra spoke softly, her bottom lip slightly jutting out as she placed her palm over his cheek. His own hands unlaced, one moving to press against her back. 

"The Small Council-"

"Fuck the Small Council." Rhaenyra huffed, earning a quiet chuckle from her brother. "You are the prince, the heir. Whatever it is you choose, they must deal with it. It is their job to counsel, to offer their advice and opinions, not to dictate what you do. We could mount Syrax and Vermithor and fly elsewhere to wed in the customs of Old Valyria." 

A gentle sigh escaped (Y/N), and he leaned forward to press a delicate kiss to Rhaenyra's shoulder. The princess relaxed at the action, her hand moving past his cheek to the back of his head. (Y/N)'s lips curled up. "You are insufferable." He told her with a gentle laugh before leaning in to press their mouths together. He drew back too quickly for Rhaenyra's liking. "But a good ruler is a patient one, Nyra. If you wish for us to wed, or to lay together-" He brushed their lips together teasingly. "-you must wait. Father and Mother will be easy to convince." 

"Does it matter if we wait?" Rhaenyra tilted her head and batted her lashes coyly, the feigned innocence prompting (Y/N) to roll his eyes. She rose from his lap and dropped her hands to his, tugging on them until he stood up from the chair. She smiled widely, devilishly even, and slung her arms around his shoulders. "We will be wed, regardless. It will not matter." 

"I have things I must do, Nyra." (Y/N) gave a heavy sigh and shrugged his shoulders, his hands coming to rest on her waist. "As I said, you must be patient. If you wish to speed things along, you should speak with Mother. She'll always be the key to winning Father over." He told her and planted a kiss on her temple before settling back down on the chair. 

"Will we be like that someday?" Rhaenyra asked softly, stepping out of the way so he could resume his letter. She toyed with the rings along her fingers, the thought of becoming one of those couples who genuinely cared for each other bringing a smile to herself. It was a desire all ladies had. While sons could marry whichever woman of age they desired, ladies had to hope the husbands their fathers or elder brothers chose were good men. She'd seen far too many times the faces of girls her age married and chained to men old enough to be their grandfathers. 

(Y/N) paused his writing and lifted his head to look at her, offering a reassuring smile. "Someday." He nodded. 

"I look forward to it, then."

[2012wannabe]

silent beginnings 5

wc: 2406

cw/tw: stillborn, loss of pregnancy/child, recovery, tiny bit of smut, periods

a/n: I don’t think it’s been mentioned before but in this story Abby is mtf and has a dick; it’s how reader was able to get pregnant

Abby smiles gently as your eyes flicker open, her heart skipping a beat at the sight of you first thing in the morning.

"Good morning, sweetie. How did you sleep?"

"I slept pretty good. It's always better when I get to wake up next to you." You smile and hold her tighter Abby feels your grip around her tighten, and she grins in response. She relishes the feeling of being close to you, of feeling your body pressed up against hers.

"You're so clingy in the mornings." She teases lightly, running a hand through your hair.

“Yeah well,” Abby laughs softly, the sound warm and full of affection. She continues to run her hand through your hair, her touch soothing and gentle.

"I didn't say it was a bad thing. I like having you so close to me."

“Me too.” She smiles at your words, pulling you in even closer to her, moving one hand to rest on your hip, her thumb rubbing small circles into your skin.

"Mmm... I don't wanna get up. I just wanna stay here like this all day."

“I wish we could.” Abby sighs and nods, a hint of disappointment in her voice. You start to get up and she turns to leave the room when she sees your face fall. She follows your line of sight to a big blood stain in on the sheets.

"Oh, honey..." She says softly, walking over to you and placing a hand on your shoulder.

"It's okay."

“I got my period.” You say quietly. Abby wraps her arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. She rubs your back soothingly, her voice gentle and understanding.

"Hey, it's okay. It's bound to come eventually, right? We'll just throw the sheets in the wash."

“Ok.” You say feeling weirdly defeated. Abby senses the feeling in your tone, and she can tell that you're more upset about your period coming than you're letting on. She pulls back slightly, cupping your face in her hands so she can look at you directly.

"Baby... what's wrong? Is it just the period that's upsetting you, or is it something else?"

“It's my period. It's just... been awhile i sigh the last time I got it I was finding out l was pregnant.” Abby's expression softens as she pulls you back into a tight hug, her arms winding protectively around you.

"I know it's disappointing, but it's a good thing, right? It means your body is starting to recover and get back to normal."

“I guess so. I'll go throw the sheets in the wash.” Abby nods, letting go of you reluctantly and watching as you walk off to start the laundry.

"I'll fix us some breakfast while you do that, okay?" You nod and Abby heads to the kitchen to start preparing breakfast, her mind still on you and how disappointed you seemed earlier. As she cooks, she can't help but wish there was more she could do to make you feel better. Meanwhile, you go about your task of throwing the sheets in the wash and starting the laundry. By the time you finish, the smell of cooking bacon and eggs wafts through the air, beckoning you back to the kitchen.

“Smells good baby.” Abby glances up as you enter the kitchen, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips at the sight of you.

"Thanks, Sweetie. Breakfast is almost ready. You're just in time." She turns off the stove and starts plating the food, setting a plate stacked with bacon, eggs, and toast in front of you at the table. Then, she sits down across from you with her own plate. You eat and then you pause.

“So...”

"Yeah? What is it, Sweetie?"

“Now that I have my period again, I was thinking we could give another try at having a baby.” Abby freezes for a second, her eyes widening a bit in surprise. She wasn't expecting you to bring up trying for another baby so soon, but the thought of it makes her heart beat a little faster.

"You want to try for another baby? Already?"

“I know it's still soon but I really do want to give us a family.” Abby's features soften as she listens to you speak, she can tell how much you truly want a family with her, and she can't help but feel the same way.

"I know... and I want that too. But are you sure about this? It's going to be a lot riskier for your health and safety along with our baby's. It's only been nearly 3 months."

“I can do it.” Abby looks at you for a moment, her heart warring with her head. She wants to give you what you want more than anything, but she's also terrified of the risk to your health.

"I know you can do it, I believe in you. But... what if something happens again? I don't know if I could bear losing you or another child."

“Would it make you feel better if we got a doctor to say I'll be okay?” She nods her head slowly, her expression still somewhat uncertain.

"Yeah.. yeah, that might make me feel a bit better. I mean, it doesn't mean there won't be any risks... but at least we'd have a medical opinion to ease our minds."

“Ok, ok.” Abby reaches out and takes your hand across the table, her touch gentle and reassuring.

"Okay. We'll find a doctor and get you checked out. But if they say it's too risky... we have to put the idea on hold, okay? I'm not gonna risk your safety." You nod and Abby squeezes your hand, her expression serious as she looks at you.

"I mean it. No matter how much we both want this, I won't put you in danger. Your safety and health come before anything else, okay?" You nod again and She gives your hand one last squeeze before letting go and resuming eating her breakfast. Once the two of you finish your meal, she gathers the dishes and stands up.

"I'm gonna go clean up the kitchen. You take it easy, okay? Maybe lie down on the couch and rest a bit."

“I'm going to clean up for you today.” Abby tilts her head slightly, a surprised look in her eyes.

"Are you sure? I can handle it, you don't have to worry about it."

“Let me please, you've done so much for me.” Abby hesitates for a moment, but then relents, a soft smile at your eagerness to help.

"Fine, I'll let you take over chores for today. But I have one condition."

“What?” She crosses her arms and leans back against the counter.

"You have to take it easy for the rest of the day. No pushing yourself and no overworking. I want you to relax and rest as much as possible."

“Okay.”

"Good. I'm gonna hold you to that, so don't even think about trying to sneak off and do chores when I'm not looking."

“Oh no you caught me!” You feign.

Abby laughs, rolling her eyes playfully.

"Hey, I know you better than you know yourself. I know what you're capable of. No sneaking around, got it?"

“Yes ma'm.” Abby grins, amused at your response. She moves closer to you, her tone teasing.

"You're being awfully obedient today, Sweetie. Are you feeling okay?"

“Oh shut up!”

"Hey, no need to get all sassy on me. Just making sure you're feeling like yourself, that's all." You go off to clean sneaking in a couple tiny chores anyway before joining abby in front of the tv. She’s sprawled out on the couch, comfortable and content as she scrolls through the available movies and shows on the TV. She notices you approaching and raises an eyebrow at you, her tone laced with playful suspicion.

"Ah, what did I say about resting and taking it easy today?"

“I have the whole day to take it easy.” She pats the spot beside her on the couch.

"Come on then, take a seat next to me. And no more sneaky chores, got it? I'm watching you." You take a seat with her watching the show. She pulls you closer, wrapping her arm around your shoulders and snuggling you against her side. She's glad to have you close to her, and she can't help but be a little possessive, pulling you in tighter so that you're practically in her lap. You take the opportunity to slide in her lap, grinding against her slightly. Abby's breath hitches as you slide into her lap, a low, slightly surprised moan leaving her lips as you grind against her. She tightens her grip on you, feeling the heat start to build in her core.

"You're playing a dangerous game, Sweetie." You grind a bit more, turning so that you’re straddling abby. Her grip on your sides tightens even more as you straddle her, a low growl of desire escaping her lips. She leans her head back slightly, her hips instinctively bucking up to meet yours as she looks up at you with darkened, lust-filled eyes.

"You little tease," she breathes out, her voice strained with want. You kiss her and she responds instantly, her lips meeting yours in a passionate and hungry kiss. She kisses you deeply and hungrily, her tongue slipping into your mouth to taste and explore. Her hands move to your hips, pulling you down against her more firmly, the heat between them growing with each passing moment. Abby suddenly breaks the kiss, her mouth moving to your neck where she kisses softly, nibbling and sucking at your skin as she speaks between each kiss.

"Sweetie, we need to be careful... your body is still recovering. We can't get too carried away, okay?" You start to frown and pull back.

“What?” She pulls back slightly, looking at you with concern in her eyes.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. Look at me." She cups your face in her hands gently, tilting your chin up so you're looking directly into her eyes.

“No it's not okay. I love that you want to take care of me but I'm still your partner, your equal. I wouldn't initiate if I wasn't fine!” Her expression softens, and she nods in understanding.

"You're right, you're right. I'm sorry, Sweetie. I didn't mean to make you feel less than an equal. I just worry about you, that's all. But I know you know your own limits, and I shouldn't be treating you like you don't." You sigh and she hugs you tightly and you kiss her letting your hand trail over her cock. Abby moans softly and she pulls you closer, her arms wrapping around you tightly as she melts into your touch.

"Mmm, Sweetie... you're gonna drive me crazy."

“Wanna give you head.” Abby's breath hitches at your offer, her eyes darkening further with a mix of lust and excitement. She pulls you in closer, and your lips settle on the tip, swirling your tongue and teasing it. Your soft touches make her harder and harder as you lick up the sides before going to back to sucking her tip very delicately. You start to sink down, taking more and more of her length in your mouth as she grabs your hair in a make shift pony tail. She pulls your hair lightly and you moan sinking down even further letting the tip of your nose tickle her pelvis. She starts to moan, whispering your name under her breath.

“Just like that… fuckkk.”

“Mm you like that?”

“Yes, yes. I fucking love your mouth.” She moans loudly, gripping your chin harshly. Her hands travel down to grab your breasts, squeezing and stroking the soft skin through your nightgown. You moan on her cock and she bucks her hips into your mouth.

“I’m gonna…”

“Cum for me.” You whisper and as you do she tilts her head back letting her eyes roll just a bit. Your mouth fills with her cum nearly choking you and you swallow it eagerly.

“Feel good baby?” Abby's expression is absolutely blissed out as she looks down at you, her chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath. She nods weakly, still too overwhelmed by pleasure to form any coherent words. After a few moments you giggle.

“Been way too long.” Abby laughs breathlessly, still struggling to catch her breath. She nods slightly, her expression a mixture of intense pleasure and exhaustion.

"Yeah... yeah, you're telling me. That was... wow. Just… wow." You kiss her on the lips and Abby kisses you back, her lips meeting yours in a soft but passionate kiss. She holds the kiss for a few moments, her body still trembling slightly. When she finally pulls back, she looks at you with an expression of pure love.

"You're amazing, you know that?"

You always tell me

Abby grins, her eyes sparkling with affection. She reaches up to brush a stray lock of hair out of your face, her touch gentle and loving. She leans in to press another soft kiss to your lips before answering.

"That's because it's true. You are amazing. And I don't think I tell you enough." Her hands ghost my hips to return to the favor but you nod your head no. Abby quirks an eyebrow, surprised by your refusal, but doesn't push the issue. Instead, she smiles gently and moves closer so she's nestled against you again.

"Are you sure? I want to return the favor, you know."

“It's ok, I just wanted to do something for you.” She pulls you closer, her arms wrapping around you once more as she presses a soft kiss to the top of your head.

"You don't have to do anything for me, Sweetie. You do more than enough just by being here."

“I wanted too.” Abby runs her fingers lightly through your hair, her touch gentle and soothing.

"I know you did, and I appreciate it. But you being here with me is enough, okay? You don't owe me anything, and I don't want you to feel like you have to do things for me just because I'm your partner. love you, no matter what."

“I love you too.” You smile holding her hand. Abby smiles back at you, intertwining her fingers with yours, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

"I love you so much, Sweetie. More than you know."

[sparkly-lexi]

Vent post:

cw deadnaming, stillbirth mention

My mom is vehemently angry that I have adopted the name Alexis Michelle.

My mom chose that name for me when she was pregnant. She chose two names, Christian James and Alexis Michelle.

Now that I've adopted the name I would have had if I was born a girl, she is. Pissed.

She says that the name Alexis Michelle belongs to a child that was never born, but fails to realize that child was ME.

She compares it to a miscarried child, going so far as to even ask if I should take the name for my stillborn sibling while I'm at it.

To her it's as if she were pregnant with 2 children, Alexis and Christian, and Christian was born while Alexis was miscarried.

But I AM ALEXIS. I AM THAT CHILD. You just gave me the wrong name.

She says that I'm erasing so much of who we are together, that I'm erasing such a large part of who she is and her identity.

She says I'm so hyper focused on my feelings and identity that I don't care about her and hers.

I love my mom. And while we've always had some issues in the past, we always resolve them and come together.

But I just want her to see it from my side and understand. And I know she wants me to understand her side too. But that name was meant for me. I need her to understand that it was always meant to be mine.

[enquiringangel]

@themarginalthinker some of this may appear in fic content but nevertheless I will not pass up an opportunity to ramble about my OCs

though now that I have written it all down this family is far more dysfunctional than I originally realised good lord

(Cw for discussion of csa, sex work, loss of pregnancy, infant death, alcoholism, domestic violence and other 19th century unpleasantness)

DAVID’S PARENTS

David’s mother:

Constance ‘Connie’ Flynn (née Doyle) was born in 1851 to Irish immigrants who had fled from County Cork during the early years of the Potato Famine. She originally worked in domestic service at a lower middle-class household in San Francisco as a 14-15 year old but was dismissed when she became pregnant because the man of the house took liberties with her. He’s not David’s father though; that baby was a stillborn girl. But at this point she had pretty much been branded as a prostitute and found it difficult to get reputable work. Though she did take in laundry and do cleaning jobs when she could get them her income was supplemented by sex work if needed.

David was born in 1873. Connie’s relationship with his father was rather rocky. She had been his wife since 1868 but both of them had a drink problem, and he had both a major jealousy problem and a wandering eye. They would separate and get back together again repeatedly, with Connie taking David off with her sometimes for months at a time to other lodgings but eventually she would go back.

Until David was about 6 years old and he left her for another woman (despite still being legally married to her). During the time she had been with him she had miscarried twice.

After this she went back to her old trade from time to time. David was often turfed out of their rooms while she had ‘gentleman callers’ and left to fend for himself. Occasionally his mother would get herself a new man (because two sources of income [and a half if you count David’s childhood artful dodger ways - hilariously I hc’d him as a pickpocket before I ever read the prequel script] are better than one) and he would have a stepfather for a while but it never seemed to last long.

Unfortunately his mother died when David was 13, due to complications with yet another pregnancy. This kid was a girl named Catherine who ‘failed to thrive’ and died when she was two weeks old.

David’s father:

Jonathon Flynn. His family also came to America as a result of the great famine, but from Dublin. He was a dockworker with a fondness for playing cards, gin, and pretty ladies. That last part led to a lot of heated disputes between him and Constance. She would accuse him of being a faithless, pox-ridden lech and he would in turn, call her a whore and express doubts that David was his. As mentioned they had periods of separation but she would always come back because as John would boastfully say, “She just likes me too much to stay away.”

During arguments she would get angry and start throwing things at him - while he would hit her, of the two of them she was much more likely to get physically violent.

After one argument he went to give her a make up kiss and she bit off the end of his tongue.

So err, yes. You can kind of understand why he left her.

Nobody was innocent here except David. And that didn’t last too long. As he grew older he generally made his bread by stealing stuff, usually pickpocketing but occasionally robbery, and - if he was very desperate, mugging people at knifepoint.

Which is how he met Max in straight on till nightfall lol

[careful-pyromancer]

theo when almost possesed: ough i got planty o time

CW: mentions of child birth and child birth complications, one mention of infant death, possession. Please be safe and take care of yourself!

(also please consider reblogging with, it helps with my motivation and I love hearing what you thought!)

    The world faded to the warmth of Taliesin, the click of his boots on the marbled floor, and the smell of spring that emanated from him. She didn’t mind this, since he felt like a sun-warmed afghan.

    Nausea still crashed against her skull like waves threatening to take down a lighthouse. Dark waters crept up from every angle. No light could penetrate, even if the sun was out. Theo imagined dusky clouds obscuring the sky, only thunder and lightning being able to break through the barrier.

    The cracking of thunder sounded a lot like Taliesin’s boots against the rotten wooden floor of the basement. No more warmth. Now she lay on a cool stone slab.

    It’s almost done. Her rotted voice spoke in a sing-song tone

    Good luck trying to break me. I’m one stubborn bitch.

    Once your body is gone, your mind will follow.

(rest of snippet below)

“She’s gonna be a mega-bitch, just so you know,” Theo stated before her eyes rolled back in her head.

    Only leaving the silver sclera behind.

'When isn't she?' Taliesin wondered silently.

    He drew out a rosary made from deer antlers and other dead creatures that die in forests. He always despised the moment when both soul and demon wrestled for control.  Theo's mother had told scraps of the gruesome tale of her labor. How the midwives found her. The connection between babe and mother had strangled the princess, leaving her a stillborn. 

Taliesin still didn't know all the details, and not for a lack of trying.

    Well, he knew one thing: Theo was here, and she had a demon plaguing her.

Taglist ask/dm to be removed/added: @writing-is-a-martial-art @asher-orion-writes @memento-morri-writes @fictionalbullshitter @verba-writing @writeblrsupport @wip-nook @fearofahumanplanet @nivahiem @365runesofthesystem @theimperiumchronicles @cryptid-s-wips @thepunk-nessmonster @kjscottwrites

[sweet-vanilla-sims]

Year 1624

TW/CW: Miscarriage

Isabella celebrated her birthday and while she began to develop a bad habit of theft, she was the spitting image of her mother.

Karmine took on a more active role with the children of the house because this time around her pregnancy was treating her far more kindly. She was excited to have so much energy. Vincente couldn't help but imagine just how nice it would be to have the kids grow up together. The somber mood of the household began to lift as winter gave way to spring.

Francisco and Karmine tried to busy themselves with the crops on the farm which wasn't hard to do. They didn't want to hope only for their hopes to be dashed again but they'd exchange looks that couldn't contain their dreams.

Ramon returned home for a visit during the less busy days mentioning that Easter preparations were to begin in a a few days, just enough to stop by and meet his niece and nephew and check in on his family in Tartosa since he was living in the church in San Sequoia. The distance wasn't too far. Giulia had been too shy to really meet her Uncle but Piero was happy to let the visitor hold him though Ramon was rather uncomfortable with dealing with young kids.

Karmine had barely begun to show her pregnancy when she was gripped with painful cramps and bleeding. It was no surprise that the next night she lost the pregnancy. In a way she was grateful she didn't have to deliver another stillborn but she was just as devastated with this loss as she was before.

Vincente took it upon himself to keep the children entertained while his brother and sister-in-law grieved their loss. Alexis did her best to comfort them given that her first pregnancy had ended in a loss at around the same time in the pregnancy but it was difficult to convince them of the future after two consecutive losses. It also didn't help that Alexis had once again learned she was pregnant.

The Carlisle family dealt with their own complicated feelings throughout the spring and summer and Autumn brought with it Emma Robles's thirteenth birthday. She grew into a lovely young lady and was celebrated by her entire family including her cousins who made a point to visit.

Alexis woke up in December to labor pains that came much too soon. She had expected to deliver sometime between February and March of the next year but her body had other plans. She couldn't help but wonder if this was caused by her children being born so close together.

Late at night on December 18th, Osana Carlisle was born. She was the tiniest baby Alexis had ever laid eyes on and knowing the dangers of early births, it was unclear if she would survive but she was full of life.

In fear that their daughter would pass sooner rather than later, the Carlisle family made sure to shower the little one with all the love they could give. Though Giulia and Piero were not fond of their sister. Giulia didn't understand why the grown-ups spent more time with the baby and not her. Piero just wanted the little crying thing out of his house. Against the odds, as the year drew to a close, Osana only grew stronger in strength.

[ausi-supports-webcomics]

This blog is all about the webcomics I like/look forward to! I’ll reblog directly from the creators here. I reblog pages if they’re posted on tumblr, comic announcements if the pages aren’t posted on tumblr but update announcements are, and related art the respective comic creators’ have made. I’m currently developing my own webcomic, Rose Fall, as well as working on Sparklecare as an inker.

Comics you’ll see reblogged here:

Tofauti Sawa [on-going]

What Lurks Beneath [on-going]

Sparklecare [on-going]

Golden Shrike [on-going/hiatus]

Holly & Macy and Everyone Else [on-going/hiatus]

I Hope So [on-going/hiatus]

Rock & Roar [on-going]

Lost Family (The Legend of Zelda AU) [on-going/hiatus]

Laika’s Comet [on-going/hiatus]

The Day We Met [on-going]

Crescent Moonlight [finished]

Cathedral [still in development]

Karmageddeon [still in development]

Pneumagate Brook [still in development]

Rose Fall [still in development]

Other Comic Recommendations:

Wurr [indefinite hiatus]

Africa [on-going]

The Rabbit Hole [finished]

The Blackblood Alliance [indefinite hiatus]

Icy Copper [finished]

Not Another Cliche! [on-going]

Stone Hearts [on-going/hiatus]

Scarlet Hunt [on-going]

The Average Adventures of Genericpaw (Warriors parody) [on-going]

Asteriskos [on-going/hiatus]

Jet and Harley [on-going]

Cat Island [on-going]

-content warnings for some of the comics listed will be under read more-

Each reblog will be tagged with a content or trigger warning if needed. Warnings will be tagged as [thing] cw or [thing] tw. If something needs to be tagged, please let me know!

-

[note: each may be updated if I forgot one, if any new one comes up in an on-going comic, or once a comic currently in development starts posting]

Tofauti Sawa - character death, animal death, gore, animal violence, child death, and abuse

What Lurks Beneath - character death, animal death, gore, animal violence, child death, starvation, suicidal ideation, religious trauma, and cult

Sparklecare - eyestrain, death, character death, gore, blood (a lot of character designs have blood on them even when there’s no violence), torture, medical malpractice, abuse, victim blaming/dismissal, themes of trauma, themes of suicide/self harm, and ableism. This comic is also 18+, while it’s not pornographic, the creator doesn’t want any minors interacting with the comic [note: each page on the site has a content warning when needed, and each volume has a content warning page for that specific volume, so what I listed is just more general topics for the series]

Golden Shrike - character death, animal death, animal violence, mentions of stillborn, and disease

Holly & Macy and Everyone Else - queerphobia, queerphobic slurs, ableism, and toxic friendship

I Hope So - character death, animal death, animal violence, abuse, and ableism (the ableism so far only shows up by design in Act 1, it is not considered normal in the world of of I Hope So)

Crescent Moonlight - animal death, animal violence, and child death [note: the child death only shows up at the beginning of the comic]

Laika’s Comet - themes of abuse

The Day We Met - themes of anxiety, themes of self esteem issues

Wurr - animal violence

Africa - character death, animal death, animal violence, child death, and rape threat [note: it’s not explicit, doesn’t happen, and is in the context of how leopards work in the wild but the threat is there and I thought I’d warn for it just in case]

The Rabbit Hole - character death, animal death, parent death, starvation, and cult

The Blackblood Alliance - character death, animal death, animal violence, parent death, and heavy forced cannibalism implication [note: as of right now, the parental death only shows up at the beginning of the comic]

Not Another Cliche! - general violence and creepy visuals akin to mascot horror

Scarlet Hunt - violence and gore

The Average Adventures of Genericpaw - character death, animal death, animal violence, child murder, and abuse

Jet and Harley - animal death, themes of depression, suicidal ideation, and themes of grief

Cathedral - death, animal death, murder, and serial killer [note: this one is still in development, there may be more added in the future]

Karmageddeon - death, murder, and abuse [note: this one is still in development, there may be more added in the future]

Pneumagate Brook - paranormal horror and creepy visuals akin to uncanny valley and body horror [note: this one is still in development, there may be more added in the future]

Rose Fall - death, violence, murder, torture, abuse, themes of depression, passive suicidal ideation, and classism [note: this one is still in development, there may be more added in the future]

[rosemary-loves-pokemon]

Intro Post

Hi there! My name is Rosemary (NOT Rose or Rosie or Mary or Rose Marie, ROSEMARY). I'm a 16 year old Pokémon trainer living in Unova, time zone EST. I grew up in Kalos, so I speak French, but I'm planning to keep this blog English-only. I'm mostly here to document my journey and make some friends!

Icon is by @globox and my header is by Paul Hanaoka on Unsplash!

[Information about my Pokémon can be found here.]

OOC INFORMATION BELOW THE CUT

Muse is a minor but mun is 18+. This blog WILL NOT feature sexual content, but Rosemary may swear and regularly puts herself in life-threatening situations because she has bad impulse control; this blog is tentatively PG-16 as a result.

Mun does NOT speak French, lol.

Rosemary lives in a fictionalized version of Unova, which is why her Pokémon may be a bit odd!

Follows from @sylas-dove

Asks are ALWAYS welcome!

Potential CWs for: past child abandonment, past homelessness, Pokémon abuse (not by Rosemary), organized crime, past foster care, minors experiencing bodily harm because they make bad choices, past child abuse, having a twin who was stillborn, and potentially more as they come up.

Additionally, Rosemary is currently living with a member of Team Rocket who she is not related to, conditional upon her involvement in the organization; she sees this man as a father figure and he regards her like a daughter, but the situation is nonetheless exploitative.

Posts mentioning abandonment, homelessness, foster care, the twin, and child abuse will be tagged as #tw: rosemary backstory.

Posts mentioning organized crime will be tagged #tw: team rocket.

Posts mentioning her father figure will be tagged #tw: ilias.

Posts mentioning Pokémon abuse will be tagged #tw: pokemon abuse.

---

OOC information about the character!

Rosemary Adams, 16, born Feb. 22

Technically a Team Rocket grunt, but quietly harbors dreams of becoming a contest star. Grew up in foster care in Kalos but moved to Unova where she now lives with father figure Ilias Martin and roommate/potential adoptive sister Skye Taylor.

[svturn-exe]

more oc stuff bc i love rattling these guys around in my head<3

cw for mentions of cannibalism and being buried alive

🔪most of what edwin would describe as 'supernatural bullshit' is usually invisible to normal humans for a number of reasons.

🔪demons can alter their appearance to appear human, or hide themselves altogether. however, they are still visible to other non-humans, so many demons will choose to simply disguise themselves instead, unless they're leeching off some poor sap's energy. everybody eats!

🔪angels can also take on a human disguise. the human brain can't comprehend most angels in their true form, so it blocks it out altogether unless the angel is either VERY determined to interact with them, or actively attacking them. nephilim are human-adjacent enough to be perceived, but this doesn't make them any less distressing to behold. fallen angels, who are locked into a more humanoid form, can also be seen

🔪spirits and ghosts n shit aren't visible to regular humans under normal circumstances and can't do much about that, but they may appear in cameras and mirrors

🔪edwin has a large scar on his back from an ill-fated encounter with Supernatural Bullshit he had as a child. the incident taught edwin that certain ghouls and beasts aren't fond of finding out he can See them. the incident also taught edwin that his dad can and will shoot a demon with a gun to protect his boy (father-son bonding !)

🔪edwin has the sight, and can tell when Supernatural Bullshit is afoot, even when it's disguised. (for example, when jackson first approaches ed at the gym, he can instantly see something is up with this guy, even if he's not sure what, exactly, bc he'd never seen an angel before) edwin also looks different to himself in his reflection (lighter eyes and light pupils)

🔪cero, emile, and jay (after gaining a demonic bestie) all have a partial sixth sense. cero can see ghosts/spirits and angels in unfiltered rawdog form, but it is possible for a demon to hide from him. emile can sniff out (sometimes literally) when someone isn't as human as they seem, but can't see ghosts (though pup can smell them). jay post-consensual possession can see demons, and develops a mild aversion towards angelic presences (though that's mostly due to girlie chilling in bug's body. angels are her natural predator and she would prefer not to get eaten)

🔪edwin, by the time he meets jack, has been on t for years, and likes his voice in general. he especially likes his voice in the mornings, though

🔪emile has entomophobia and arachnophobia. when there's a bug inside their apartment, jay is the one who has to catch them and bring them outside. because emile WILL start crying

🔪graveyards and human burial rites are fascinating to jackson. most disputes among angels end in bloodshed and subsequent cannibalism. actually the response to just about any death of an angel is usually to eat them. you mean your bury your dead or cremate them? instead of descending upon the corpse like vultures? wild. (edwin voice) babe,,

🔪jackson and grand finale both had other names before the death of god, but don't go by them anymore. jackson fell in love with humanity, and chose a name to reflect that desire to be human and live among them. grand finale just stopped using its old name and didn't pick a new one until it started a relationship with naomi.

🔪a0 is cis on a technicality, but somehow still has two deadnames. the first is the name his birth mother gave to him shortly before his burial due to them mistakenly believing he was stillborn. the second is the name that was given to him when he was found wandering around as a young kid

🔪emile: i got that dog in me jay: ??? emile: (transforms into a giant dog) jay: this explains so much, 🔪aspects of grand finale's character are intended to be a foil to jackson. jack went down to earth of kings own free will, grand finale was forced. jackson loves humans and takes any excuse he can to mingle with them, grand finale at its most tolerant is still not the biggest fan of humanity, and prefers to be on its own or with naomi (and later, cero).

🔪jay and naomi are very close siblings, and in their free time like to do urbex together. this joint hobby leads to them stumbling across grand finale, who just ripped and clawed its way through a facility of researchers and is pissed off at humanity. no one dies (no one important, at least) but this still does not end well

🔪naomi is no-op! luna takes e, and has vocal training, but is otherwise usually fairly masc-presenting.

🔪jackson was originally going to be a werewolf

🔪emile has that dog in it, but elaine takes after amelia (their human mother). i'm still thinking on the specifics of it but i know she's some kind of magical!!

🔪a0 is allergic to therapy, and so doesn't have many healthy outlets for stress and trauma. so, when he meets grand finale, their combined irritability and respective strong personalities result in them fighting. grand finale spares cero's life out of curiosity because the dude is clearly some kind of Creature, but it isn't sure what.

🔪cero keeps tracking down finale and fighting it. he knows he'll lose every time (grand finale is just stronger, and a0 can't yank it out of its body without severely injuring himself) but that doesn't matter. maybe he Needs to get his ass beat and not think about all the bullshit life keeps throwing at him for once

[insomanic-fanfication]

Wanting to be honest

Under this line, I'm talking about an in-depth problem I have, maybe in hopes of people feeling like they aren't alone or to remind me that I'm not alone in this struggle. Especially since I always try to find support groups or someone to talk about them with. They are FOR the Eating disorder instead of trying to help.

If you are not ready to have this conversation with yourself or are not in the right headspace for this topic, Just enjoy the Cat gif and move on with your day. This also includes my mutuals; just because you love reading my post doesn't mean you have to read this one. I will not be mad over upset if you skip this one.

I want you all to know that you are all loved and deserve a great day.

CW: Child neglect, Growing up poor, Growing up in a hoarder's home, Old America parenting, Religious abuse, Generational trauma, Eating Disorders, Child Abuse, late diagnosed Autism, C-PTSD, Depression. At this point, it's labeled as Dead Dove Do Not Eat- IRL. I despise sugarcoating things, so here is me telling my story without having my coward of a family shaming me for making them look bad. Just because some of them have changed does not magically fix the pain I suffered and still heal.

We'll take mental breaks at multiple points within this post and give you links to Emergency numbers.

The first one:

Section One: Before I was born

In a small town in Texas, USA. My Mom (age 16) was dating a man (age 18) and got pregnant due to a lack of sex education. Upon finding this out, my Mom's parents (Stepfather and Mother) forced her to have me and marry that man. So she and the child (me) wouldn't go to hell (Be the talk of the Church).

Throughout her pregnancy, the man we'll call SD (Sperm donor) locked my mother in their bedroom closet, only allowing her to eat bread and water. As well as rape and abuse her. Her parents (My grandparents) knew this was happening and did nothing because "it's not rape if you're dating or married." At some point during her pregnancy, my mother was pushed down a flight of stairs by SD.

The day I was born, I wasn't the only one. I had a stillborn twin; she was fully formed. Meaning, for a good while, I was holding hands and sharing womb space with a corpse.

Section Two: After I was born

Once I was born. My mom's parents never taught her how to raise me; instead, when something needed to be done, they grabbed me and shamed my mom for not knowing how to be a good mother. Basically, using me as their version of baby-trapping my mother to stay in contact with them. So they could have free labor to be as lazy as they pleased and have their own maid to keep their house clean.

I have no idea when these things happened, so I will mention them in this paragraph. SD sexually assaulted me while changing my diaper; Mom and he divorced, and my mom was kicked out of their apartment. Cutting to the only necessary information from up until age 12, I was being bounced around different family homes; while I lived with my grandparents, I could only really eat a few things; most of the time, they were either moldy or expired. Also, I was beaten and screamed at with a belt when I misbehaved, most days hearing them screaming and hitting each other. I also would be forced to sleep on a pissed and shit-on mattress, sometimes while it was still wet. Had to climb over piles of trash and junk that my mammaw hoarded. Along with being forced to clean the whole house by age 4. Doing the clothes and dishes, cooking, taking care of the animals, getting my grandpa ready, and waking up at 02:00 (Yes, even on school nights) to make lunches for my grandpaw.

While I lived at my Nanny's (Great Grandmaw), I did have great food and a living area. However, all I was used for by her was a grieving process; I was the replacement for her husband dying.

While living with my mom and who she was dating then (My 1st Step parent before she transitioned), she tried her best to be at least somewhat of a stable human being and mother. However, she could never afford therapy and couldn't entirely cut contact with her parents.

When she was married to my 2nd Step parent, my Step Dad, they had my living brother when I was in 2nd grade. All throughout my childhood, after that, my little brother came first, and what was left went to me.

Though during my childhood, I was constantly yelled at when I acted like a child and was called a selfish brat by many family members when my 5-year-old wanted attention. Because I didn't fucking know anything about ALS or death. I just knew my Papaw, an Airforce pilot, wasn't feeling okay. Until then, my lil brain had only seen him cry when I told him, "Welcome Home!" and honestly believed nothing could kill him.

Mental Health Break! ----

The context is done, So I will be talking about my Eating disorder and current eating problems. You can choose to click off now or continue reading when you are done with the video.

Now, the present problem I'm dealing with is trauma around food in general, but also possibly a binge eating disorder.

The cycle starts with eating a normal amount, then slowly eating less and less due to something wrong happening in the household. My mom screaming about something she couldn't find or the kitchen not being clean. Then, I start becoming replused by everything in the kitchen. Only seeing expired food. So I spent more and more time in my room. Until I realize I haven't eaten in 3 days.

I have a panic attack, thinking I will die, then eat. Then, I can't stop eating; I feel guilty if food is left on my plate because I feel like I'm being ungrateful for not eating everything. My brain refuses me to turn down the food people offer me. This will go on, until I vomit because my body can't handle everything, then I start eating again, Right after.

Then, I'll panic about becoming obese (my grandparents were), then the cycle repeats itself..

is there a happy end to this? No, the only good thing, is that we live in AZ now, and my grandparents have no way of talking to me.

[bumblesimagines]

Obsessions and Cruelty

Request: Yes or No

Summary: Despite the love Princess Alyssa and Prince Baelon had for their twins, Prince (Y/N) and Prince Aegon, Daemon never truly forgave (Y/N) for causing the death of their mother; but he'll never genuinely hate him either.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

CW/TW: Typical HOTD warnings, Targcest/Incest (Brother-Brother), mention of childbirth caused death, mentioned death of a sibling (Lil Aegon), toxic behavior?, Daemon stop insulting women challenge (impossible)

~~~

Princess Alyssa and Prince Baelon had been overjoyed when (after a long and excruciatingly painful childbirth) the Mother bestowed them with the gift of twin boys whom they happily named Prince Aegon and Prince (Y/N). Their two older brothers, Viserys and Daemon, welcomed them into the family with ease, making plans of all the things they'd teach the boys.

All had been well, until six months later when Alyssa passed after being unable to fully recover from having the twins, her body too weakened from the hours of pain and blood loss. Tragedy struck again with the weaker of the twins, Prince Aegon, passed just shy of his first nameday, leaving the family in distress and an ocean of grief.

Prince (Y/N) had been born sickly as well, and the boy had hardly cried or fussed when he'd been born; so much so that the midwife and maester present feared he'd been stillborn until Baelon took his boy into his arms and the little one finally kicked off with some wails. His health fluctuated throughout his first few years of life, having its highs when he raced down the hall with his little legs and a flurry of maids following as well as its lows when he could hardly get out of bed. 

While his father deeply grieved the loss of his beloved sister-wife and child, he refused to allow it to push him away from his youngest boy. He ensured to assign (Y/N) a personal maester, one who'd only tend to the boy when asked and would give him all the attention he needed.

Others assumed (Y/N) would pass before becoming man-grown, but the prince proved them all wrong, much to the relief and glee of his father and eldest brother, Viserys. His second eldest brother, Daemon, stewed in his grief and growing resentment. 

Daemon had loved their mother wholeheartedly. Alyssa had been a fierce, determined, daring princess who taught Daemon much of what he knew. He loved her, from her blonde hair to her mismatched eyes to the fact she rode the beautiful Red Queen, Meleys, because she'd been denied of riding Balerion. Alyssa's wild spirit had passed down to her son but she'd been stolen from him before she'd ever get to see him in action.

He despised it, despised how much they coddled him, how much they fretted over a weak little thing. Daemon spent much of his time avoiding the boy, for the sight of him alone reminded him of the night he learned of his mother's passing. Perhaps it was guilt too, that made him ignore his brother, for he also reminded him of the thought that he screamed in his mind during the funeral.

I wish they'd died instead.

Daemon hadn't looked anyone in the eye when little Aegon had been pronounced dead from a harsh fever; an inevitable death, the maester had claimed, for the boy had been weak for months. But Daemon believed the Gods had done it to remind him they were always listening. 

(Y/N) had been around four when Daemon's resentment first spilled over into actions. The younger prince had been left without a playmate after their brother left for training lessons, and (Y/N) had refused to play with the willing maids in favor of stumbling out of his room in his stubby toddler legs to search for his other brother.

When he approached the seven-year-old in his bedchambers, Daemon snatched the wooden toy wolf and snapped its head clean off with the threat of doing the same to the rest of his toys if he ever approached him again. (Y/N), of course, bursted into tears and Daemon awkwardly watched until their father arrived to scoop the little one into his arms and give Daemon a scolding. 

Baelon attempted to get the two to reconcile a few days later with a hug. When Daemon extended his arms out toward (Y/N), the little boy made a face and ran right back to their older brother who immediately gathered him up into his arms. It'd been then that Daemon felt a twinge of bitterness, not at (Y/N) for having Visery's attention but at Viserys for being chosen over him. He forced it away and told himself it was what he wanted. He hated him after all. Or so, it was what he told himself in the years that followed. 

Without fail, the weeks leading up to each of (Y/N)'s namedays seemed to set something off in Daemon and he'd make it his life's mission to bother the boy into tears. The first few years resulted in many wails and scoldings from their father, brother, and eventually even their new sister, Lady Aemma. His life had resulted in the death of the woman Daemon loved most, and he'd never forget it. But, Daemon soon learned everyone, even sickly weaklings, had their limits. 

On (Y/N)'s tenth nameday, Baelon had settled (Y/N) on his knee after the celebration and began recalling stories of Alyssa, starting with the fact she'd always followed him around in their youth like a shadow. (Y/N) had been enthralled, eyes big and wide and head eagerly nodding for more tales of the woman he'd never get to meet. Grief made Daemon's chest constrict, and without thinking, he'd blurted out: "There'd be more stories if you and Aegon hadn't killed her." 

The room had fallen deathly silent afterward, only family members lingering around who all turned to stare at the boy wide-eyed. His grandparents and father seemed on the verge of lecturing him when (Y/N) slipped off Baelon's knees, walked right up to the spot on the floor Daemon was sitting on, and landed one good punch to his nose that left a heavy flow of blood. Some in the room laughed, others shook their heads but Viserys had ensured to swoop in and separate the two until the maesters arrived. 

And while Daemon had a maester tend to his bleeding nose (luckily dismissing the possibility of it being broken), (Y/N) sent him a triumphant grin from across the room that made Daemon seethe. Still, he couldn't deny the hint of pride that swelled in him, as well as a new bubbling feeling. 

From then on, fighting and bickering were the only thing the boys seemed to do together, mostly because picking on (Y/N) was the only way to get him to pay Daemon any sort of attention. His accusation had been enough to permanently cement him as the enemy, even with all the coaxings and reminders of blood being thicker than water. He leaned into it, even if it meant having to sit back and grumpily watch (Y/N) happily cozy up to Viserys and sometimes even Lady Aemma. 

The Gods had cursed him for wishing the Stranger on (Y/N), he was certain of it. Why else would he care so much?

By the time the two were in their teens, Queen Alysanne had wed Daemon to Lady Rhea Royce of Runestone. He'd been sent off to live with her in the Vale, perhaps the most boring place in Westeros and annoyingly far from home. When he'd returned home for a visit, he'd learned from Viserys that the soon-to-be seventeen-year-old (Y/N) had many marriage prospects. Daemon had hoped to find himself thrilled at the idea of (Y/N) moving far away to become the new lord of some noble house but it only soured his mood whenever someone brought it up.

"I hear Lady Lusia is quite beautiful." Lady Aemma told (Y/N) one afternoon, a cup of sweetened milk in hand and a gentle smile on her face. Daemon scoffed quietly at her words, a bitter taste forming in his mouth that made him angrily swallow the piece of apple he'd been chewing. Lady Aemma seemingly ignored him. "I hear she has a fascination for dragons. I'm certain she'll love Sōna." 

"Or Sōna will eat her in a single bite the moment she lays eyes on her." Daemon piped in, pushing himself up from the couch he'd sprawled himself across and smirking at the eye-roll (Y/N) sent his way. Truthfully, Sōna was exactly like her rider in more ways than one: spoilt, easily annoyed, and downright bratty at times. The pretty beast had certain food preferences, for Gods' sake. Lady Aemma merely shook her head and sipped on her drink whilst Viserys finally tore his attention away from the book in hand. 

"Perhaps you have someone in mind then, Brother. You seemed against Lady Katherine and Lady Breyna as well." Viserys's finger dragged along the edge of the book, an amused twinkle in his eyes as he regarded his brother in a way that seemed to say I know. Daemon scowled at him, unable to resist the heat creeping up along his neck. 

"I'm saving those ladies from a lifetime of misery, more like. (Y/N) would probably drop dead if he saw a woman naked." 

At that, (Y/N) whirled around to look at him with a sneer. "It wouldn't be my first time!" He snapped at him, and irritation rolled over Daemon like a crashing wave. He'd been gone from court for a little less than a year and had already missed so much. His new wife's family had insisted he stay in Runestone with her despite her indifference, but he hardly cared for her or the Vale of Arryn. She was plain-faced, boring, and never bothered to converse with him. He much preferred the bustle and hustle of the Red Keep.

But nobody mentioning his little brother had bedded someone while he was away? It shouldn't have annoyed him as much as it did but the thought of some lousy little lady - or anyone, truly - laying hands on his brother in a less-than-friendly way made his blood boil. Had she even done it right? Had she even kissed him with passion or just with the desire to boast about lying with a Targaryen prince? 

"Who?" Daemon demanded, springing up to his feet and chucking the apple aside so hard it slammed into the wall and broke apart. Lady Aemma flinched at the noise and gave her husband a bewildered look that was met with a quiet sigh. Daemon's long silver hair spilled over his shoulders as he grasped the back of (Y/N)'s chair and leaned down to glower at him. "What dumb bitch decided you were worth laying with?" 

(Y/N) bristled like an enraged stray cat and shot up from his seat, planting his hands on Daemon's chest and shoving him back. Daemon stumbled backward, nearly tripping over his boots, and scowling immediately but before he could cut the distance, Viserys planted himself firmly between the two. At twenty-four, Viserys had no business being forced to stop fights between the two, but he believed it to be his job as eldest much to their annoyance. Daemon opened his mouth to spout some more things but he bit his tongue when he noticed the way (Y/N)'s eyes glistened. 

"Nyke vēdros ao." (Y/N) spat venomously, and Daemon's shoulders sagged, his body reeling back as if he'd been struck. (Y/N) stormed past the two of them, the doors shaking violently when he slammed them close behind him. Lady Aemma frowned at him, shaking her head with a soft sigh of disappointment. 

I hate you. 

He'd meant it, Daemon was sure of it. He'd been a bother since (Y/N) had been born, just a baby prone to illness who had no memories of their beautiful mother. The birth had impacted Alyssa severely, sure, but the twins had never asked to be born. Daemon had realized that early in his teenhood, but most of the damage had been done and he'd never been one to apologize or admit wrongdoing, to begin with. But as he stood there, staring into nothingness while the words replayed over and over in his head, he swore he felt his heart cracking. 

"Go apologize," Viserys told him softly, placing a hand on his shoulder and giving it an encouraging squeeze. "Make things right before it's too late. Father intends on having him wed before the winter."

Silently, Daemon turned on his heel and left the couple alone in their room to make his way down the hall. He'd upset (Y/N) enough to make him cry, something he hadn't done in years, so he felt certain the teen had rushed off to his bedroom before he could be seen. The servants and guards he encountered along the way were quick to step out of his way, and the ones stationed at (Y/N)'s bedchambers opened the doors for him without having to be asked. 

(Y/N) sat at the edge of his bed, legs crossed and lips pouting like a child but Daemon could only wince at the tear stains on his cheeks. His hands messed with his boots, undoing the laces of one and throwing it onto the floor. When he spotted Daemon lingering by the doors, he threw the other one at him, nearly hitting him in the thigh. "Go away," He demanded. 

"Your aim's better." Daemon simply told him, slipping off the holster holding Dark Sister to his waist, and leaning the sword against the wall. (Y/N) reached down for the boot he'd tossed on the floor, scooping it back into his hand and throwing it at Daemon. His brother caught it with ease before it could slam into his chest, causing (Y/N)'s cheeks to puff out in annoyance and Daemon to smirk.

"Come to laugh at me some more?" (Y/N) asked bitterly, his eyes following Daemon as he made his way further into the room. With nothing else within grabbing distance to throw, he remained seated on the bed with a glare and curled hands ready to hit him. Daemon eyed his tense form and took a seat beside him, scoffing when (Y/N) scooted away.

"You act like a child." Daemon sighed, snatching (Y/N)'s wrist into his hand and squeezing the skin exposed when his sleeve rode up. (Y/N) struggled at first, angered muttering falling from his lips, but he slowly relented and gave in with a heavy sigh. Daemon gave him a hard tug that forced (Y/N) to fall onto his side, a grin gracing his lips at (Y/N)'s narrowed eyes. 

"And you act like an arse." He replied, shifting around to sit up straight again. 

"I didn't..." Daemon pursed his lips. Viserys knew how to apologise, knew all the right things to say to make things better. Daemon only knew how to hurt and break things. "I didn't mean to-... to make you cry." 

"Liar." (Y/N) huffed and Daemon's jaw clenched, his temper flaring up with ease. "You like seeing me cry. You probably get off on it." 

Daemon bit his tongue, this time literally, so he could fight the wicked smirk from spreading on his face. "Yes," Daemon exhaled, the breathy, amused tone making (Y/N) grow still with suspicion. "I get off on the thought of you crying from how much you desire me." He said lowly, moving an inch closer so their noses would bump together. He relished the quiet hitch of (Y/N)'s breath.

"I- I- You- I would never- What-" (Y/N) sputtered, tongue twisting so violently he almost choked on his words. Daemon's free hand rose to grab his jaws, fingers digging into the heated skin of his cheeks. He delighted in the heat, for he believed it meant there was a chance of his feelings being mutual. 

"Who did you lay with?" Daemon questioned, his fingertips digging into the skin of (Y/N)'s cheeks and pulling his face ever so closer. He dragged his lips over his cheekbones, trailing them over his little brother's nose and brows and any part of his face he could reach. (Y/N) squirmed in his grip, his closed hand pressing against Daemon's chest in a half-hearted attempt at pushing him back. "Tell me."

"No." (Y/N) grumbled, ever the disobedient one. 

"Was she worth it?" Daemon prodded, pushing his brother back onto the bed until his back was flat against the covers. He swung one leg over (Y/N)'s hips to straddle him, laying his weight down on the prince's thighs to prevent him from getting up. (Y/N) glared up at him, lips forming a deeper, more pronounced pout. He pinned the wrist in his hand beside his head, ensuring to keep a steady grip on him. 

"Better than you'll ever be!" (Y/N) spat, the challenging tone in his voice only making Daemon's desire flourish, the overwhelming feeling pumping through his veins. He swooped down and slammed their lips together, swallowing the squeak that escaped (Y/N) and shoveling his tongue into his mouth when (Y/N)'s lips parted. He suckled his bottom lip into his mouth, biting down on it until he tasted a hint of metallic. 

"You should've come to me, sweet brother." Daemon sighed, tongue lapping up the small trickle of blood that stained both their lips red. (Y/N)'s fingers curled around the collar of Daemon's tunic, battling between pushing him back and drawing him closer. "You need not for anyone else. I will take care of you, regardless of what anyone else dares to say." He cooed, pressing a sloppy, bloody kiss to his cheek. 

"You hate me." (Y/N) murmured, his nose crinkling at the taste of blood dancing on his taste buds. Daemon frowned at him, hands harshly squeezing (Y/N)'s jaw and wrist for his words. When (Y/N) grimaced, he released his jaw and instead tenderly stroked his knuckles over his cheek. 

"I do not." He assured, nuzzling their nose together and kissing him again, savoring the shudder that went through (Y/N) when he pressed down on the small cut. "I care for you. More than you'll ever know, little brother."

[negotiumcrucis]

Number 29 and 30 for the ask meme? Favorite line/passage you wrote this year? and Biggest surprise while writing this year?

I'm so, SO sorry for the delay, but here are the answers for the ao3 wrapped [writers edition] questions, thank you for sending them!

---

29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year [2022]?

oh, fuck there are so many. I think the opening sequence of like you could (love me) is a very clever one and I believe I managed to convey a lot of worldbuilding in just a few sentences, so I thought it was very neat. Also, in 2022 I finally got to write scenes I have been planning in my head since the previous year, so when they turned out good enough, it was a joy. I'm particularly proud of two passages from by any means necessary, basically the opening and the ending sequences and I also think the smut was very hot, if I may say so (and it inspired a stunning piece of artwork). Now, if I have to specify one passage only, I'm picking this from they have not sinned:

(CW: it mentions the burial of a stillborn)

He only realised he had not brought anything to dig a hole when he felt the dry earth crack under his fingernails. It stung and Yusuf bit down on his tongue so he would not curse in front of his dead child. As he felt the cuts open on his raw skin, Yusuf smelled fresh copper and he thought it was only fitting he should bleed for his child as well, as Nicolò had.

30. Biggest surprise while writing this year [2022]?

Hmmm, probably something in the AU department? I always struggle writing AUs, because though I love reading them, I find coming up with a new world/background for such beloved characters a challenge, so I'm always pleasantly astonished when people are interested in those. In this case, If we slow dance was a nice surprise because of all the lovely feedback it got (thank y'all, I'm writing more!) and also because I never really thought I'd write a Football AU (even if the football in it is just in the background). Still speaking of AUs, for obvious reasons, of course, a garden didn't get much feedback, but since it was something I never really thought I'd write for this fandom (it's quite dark), I enjoyed the result a lot and it also inspired people to make such great art for it, which is always a wonderful bonus.

---

Thanks so much for choosing these particular questions, they gave me a lot to think about. I have replied to other questions here, but if any of you are interested in some I haven't answered yet, feel free to ask! I will try to reply faster and I'd love to try this again by the end of this year, maybe? Hopefully, I will have managed to finish some of my wips by then...

[slugass]

CW/TW!! Swearing, Mentions of graphic content (no pics), Bugs, Trypophobia, Stillbirth, Dead Puppies

I HATE YOUTUBE’S “FOR YOU/PEOPLE ALSO WATCHED” FEATURE.

Youtube’s “for you/people also watched” STILL showing graphic vids of newborns with H/I when im searching basically unrelated things

thanks you fukkin assholes

this shitty fucking feature showing you potentially triggering content (bugs, trypophobia, stillborns) and gore when you didn’t ask for it

like thanks for recommending me a video of a unwell dead bloated puppy while i’m just looking through results for a cute halloweeny kid’s show you

and the best part: unlike the recommended section (which is where vids i’m not searching for SHOULD BE), YOU CAN’T HIDE THEM WITH AN “I’M NOT INTERESTED” OR ANYTHING, SO THERE’S NO GUARENTEE THAT YOU’RE GONNA BE SAFE FROM THESE DISTURBING GRAPHIC AND/OR POTENTIALLY TRIGGERING VIDEOS. THEY’RE GONNA POP UP, AND YOU CAN’T MAKE THEM GO AWAY EASILY.

FUCK THIS FEATURE.

[pedgito]

𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 ✎ 𝐝𝐚𝐝!𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐱 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary: eddie doesn’t have his life together any better than the next person, but for his daughter, he fakes it well. all he really needed was balance, but he wasn’t sure that even existed—not until you.

cw: 18+ (for safety), mechanic!eddie, reader and eddie are the same age (29/30ish), girl dad!eddie, mentions of loss/death, mentions of miscarriage/stillborn (briefly), more than your typical sass from a small child, reader is great with kids (obviously), mostly just a bunch of meet-cutes and fortunate circumstances that help push eddie toward reader, if i missed anything lmk!

word count: 11k — part two

Eddie never imagined he would in this position, not in a million fuckin’ years. While he would trade it for the world, days like these made his skin crawl, the anxiety creeped in, all the worst feelings you could feel as a person—and more specifically, a parent.

She’s the spitting image of him, curly hair and big doe eyes that she could sick on anyone to get exactly what she wanted. It was a proven fact that had worked on Eddie countless times. She’s got his habitual nose scrunch, always making a face when she’s upset or mad, arms crossed over her chest as she sits and pouts. There couldn’t have been more of a carbon copy than her and Eddie didn’t know how to handle it half the time. 

“Okay,” Eddie breathes, plopping his daughter onto the counter, “Shoes,” He taps her light up sneakers, “Check.” He scans her over once, all clothes accounted for, matching socks, a small jumper to keep her warm during class, “Hair—“ He takes a moment, examining the sloppy attempt at pigtails, “it’s gonna have to work.”

“Dad,” Her voice drags, soft and melodic as she stares up at him in annoyance, “breakfast?”

“Shit—right,” Eddie facepalms in frustration, turning to rummage through the fruit bowl on his counter, picking out a semi-ripe banana and offering it to the girl, “that’ll do.”

“Language,” She sings, using her brute strength to rip open the peel, a small grunt escaping her, “—you owe a dollar to the jar.”

It still amazes him how well-spoken she is for her age, five nearing six and still able to keep up with him in conversation and sometimes even leaving him speechless, her comments just as fiery as his own. She did a good job keeping him in check, grounded, and never taking himself too seriously.

“Ri,” He begs, “you’re cleaning me out.”

“You know the rules, dad.” She smiles, taking a ferocious bite of her banana, speaking with a full mouth, “pay up, please.”

Eddie huffs begrudgingly, swiping his wallet from his back pocket and plucking out a single collar, slipping it into the jar on the shelf near their front door, the thing was bursting at the seams almost.

“Okay so,” Eddie turns back toward her, “what did we talk about?”

“Manners—please and thank you,” She says, counting her with tiny fingers, “no mean looks to the other kids, and—“

She stops, the memory spilling her brain.

“And no F bombs from you either.” Eddie warns, poking softly at her chest. “Even if it was only once.”

“It was part of the song—“ She argues, mouth turning down at the corners in frown.

“Riley.” Eddie says more sternly, causing her to shrink slightly.

“Okay,” She answers softly, taking smaller bites of the banana until it’s nearly gone, she glances at the digital clock on the microwave and glances back at her dad, who still seems completely frazzled, “—I thought school started at eight.”

“It does.” Eddie nods, slipping his wallet back into his pocket and gathering his things for work; lunch, tools, although surely he was still missing something.

“Look.” She tells him, finger pointing just past his head.

Eddie turned, eyes widening at the numbers appearing back to him.

7:50. 

It was the first day and he was already starting off on the wrong foot, but given his track record, he couldn’t really be surprised. 

Eddie quickly lifts Riley from the counter and places her down, letting her run for her backpack on the couch—a faded, black backpack that Eddie got from Wayne a few weeks ago; money was tight, but he always tried to make the best of their situation. He ironed a few of his old patches from his favorite bands he had stored away and even the one he’s gotten made of his old band as a joke, a true one of a kind. He wanted to save it for something special—or someone. Luckily, that was Riley.

“Alright,” He says, clapping his hands together loudly, “let’s go, go, go.” 

Riley’s feet pitter patter underneath him as he chases after her, urging her out of the trailer—the one he rented out just beside his uncle, as much as he’d hoped to get out of this town, he couldn’t think of a better place to be held up in.

Eddie’s never been a stickler for rules—and he makes it with a couple minutes to spare, but no one needed to know about him driving a smidge over the speed limit to get Riley to school on time. 

He feels immensely underdressed around the other crowd of parents—and noticing the one obvious factor, most of them were women. He realizes it shouldn’t matter much, but it was also painfully obvious that he was all over the place, clothes slightly dirtied from grease stains and general car grossness. It didn’t matter how much he washed them, the stains were coming out. 

Riley’s eager, unbuckling herself and opening her own door before Eddie can even reach her, suffocating his hand in a tight grip as she yanks him along, humming along to a tune that Eddie can only guess is from a morning cartoon. When it came to music she sang her heart out, an obvious sign that he was hers—she loved music.

“Come on, dad,” She complains, Eddie’s feet keeping up with her hurried steps, “we can’t be late.”

“For a five year old you’re incredibly bossy.” Eddie notes, her giggling trailing down the hall as they entered the school. 

She eyes the walls with rapt attention, all decked out with arts and crafts, eye-grabbing from every angle. Eddie had made a point to remember the name of his teacher, at least, if anything. So, when she trails just a little further than she needs to, Eddie’s pulling her back with a hand against her chest.

“Woah, hold your horses.” Eddie chuckles, her body knocking into his chest as he knelt down. “Do you want me to walk you in or are you okay?”

The soft scuff of soles on the tile floor pull Eddie’s attention up, eyes landing on you. You offer a friendly smile amongst the chaos—crying kids, worried parents, and all the restless energy a small child could carry this early in the morning. 

“Hi.” You greet cheerfully, addressing yourself formally, hand extended for him to shake. Eddie’s still squatting at Riley’s side but his hand extends too, enveloping yours in a gentle grip, a polite handshake.

You sense the nervousness of the young girl before you, squatting down to her level as well, “You must be Riley.” You guess accordingly, seeming as she was the last kid on your list to show up, her face beamed with a brightness that was entirely too infectious. You introduce yourself to her too, shaking her smaller hand in greeting. 

“Alright kid,” Eddie pats her back softly, standing slowly as his knees groan in protest. Eddie was nearing his thirties and not nearly as nimble as before, with a mix of aging and his job it seemed like his body was wearing away faster than he liked, “you ready?”

“Oh,” You interrupt, standing too, “you can come inside and see where’s she sitting if you’d like and if you have any quick questions I can answer them.”

Eddie blanks for a moment, but is quickly pulled out of it when Riley tugs at his hand in excitement, “Okay, just a couple minutes, Ri—I can’t be late for work.” Eddie follows along dutifully, narrowly missing the flurry of tiny people that run past him.

Riley arrives at the desk in a hurry, taking her seat and examining her area. “Look daddy,” She points out, “the desk has my name.”

“Yep, baby,” Eddie nods, smoothing out her tattered curls, still beating himself up over not taking the time to make them look better, “can you read it?”

Riley nods enthusiastically, “Riley Munson,” she sounds out, “Duh, I know my name.” 

Eddie chuckles at that and you can’t help but laugh. She was a character for sure, but most of the kids were, blossoming personalities and all.

You interrupt for a moment, leaning down to Riley’s level again, “And we even get to decorate these with cool stickers!”

Riley gasps in joy, staring up at Eddie with wide, glistening eyes.

“She loves stickers,” Eddie tells you, “Uh—I should probably already know this, but what time is pickup?”

“Oh, you’re fine.” You assure him, noting his frazzled state. It was common for parents, specifically first timers. “Three is when we actually let them out, but the line can get pretty long so it’s always better to show up early if you can.”

Eddie nods slowly, glancing around the room. He’s never been one to care what people think of him or his appearance, but in this setting it feels magnified. “Sorry, I feel a little underdressed.”

You quickly shake your head, watching as a young girl approaches Riley. You nod toward the door, silently asking Eddie to follow. He bids her a quick goodbye and a kiss in the crown of her head which she could care less about, already chattering to her newfound friend. 

“Don’t feel like an outcast,” You tell him, “it’s definitely not worth beating yourself up over.”

Eddie had been there his entire life, he wasn’t sure he could ever escape that. 

Oddly, it comforts Eddie for the moment. “Shit—wait shoot,” Eddie fumbles over his words, voice hushed as he realizes his mistake, “I’m Eddie by the way, I probably should’ve started with that.”

You laugh in amusement, nose scrunching up slightly. You’re far enough from earshot that their impressionable ears can’t hear, but it’s still charming that he tries to save himself. 

“Well Eddie,” You say with a lilt to your voice, “if we run into any issues—which I’m sure we won’t—we’ll give you a call.”

Eddie nods, “Okay uh,” He points toward Riley sparingly, “she can be a little—headstrong, so if she gives you problems—“

“I can handle her,” You assure him, leaning forward with a quiet whisper, “it’s kind of my job.”

Eddie smiles at that, a nervous laugh rumbling through his chest. He needs to excuse himself before he embarrasses himself further. 

“Okay, three. I’ll be here.” He tells you, loose curls bouncing over his shoulders as he moves. 

“And I’ll see you then.” You nod, watching as he hurriedly leaves then, bolting out faster that you can process. Considering how daunting days like this could be for parents, he was still handling it surprisingly well. 

The day is just as hectic as you’d expect. A few meltdowns later and a messy lunch with over a hundred rambunctious kids and you’re all out of energy for the day but keep it up until the very last minute of the school day, letting each child pick a sticker to put on their own name tag on their desk—it’s an easy way to give the kids an outlet to express themselves and show of their personality, plus, the kids loved the stickers.

Pickup is gradual, the children leaving in troves until there’s only a few left, lingering around the hall as they wait for their rides. You find Riley perched on a bench outside of your classroom, fiddling with the laces on her shoes, frayed from wear and tear as she attempts to re-tie them. She huffs dramatically when she can’t figure it out, shoulder slumping as she frowns

You approach with a weary caution, taking a seat next to her on the bench. She doesn’t immediately look up at you, kicking the toes of her shoes together. “Stupid,” She grumbled, “stupid shoes.”

“Do you need help?” You ask sweetly.

“I don’t know how,” She expresses dramatically, “I try and the loop doesn’t work. My daddy ties my shoes for me.”

“Well, Riley—would you like me to teach you?” You ask.

She nods enthusiastically, clumsily turning to place her feet in your lap, staring up at you expectantly. You laugh softly, making a show of taking the two strings in your hand, guiding her through the motions as she watches, cataloging every step. She helps you sing, bouncing with energy. 

“Okay, your turn.” You tell her, watching as she fiddles with laces, murmuring a ‘bunny ears, bunny ears’ under her breath as she focuses, tongue slipping out past her lips in concentration. It takes her a moment, struggling to get the lace under the loop, but eventually she gets it. You erupt in a soft cheer, shaking your fists up in celebration. Riley beams a toothy grin that lingers, her eyes squinting with how big she’s smiling. 

You take a peek at your watch, reading it to yourself. 3:15. It wasn’t unusual for late parents, as a few kids were also lingering about, but while they were antsy and anxious to leave, Riley sat quietly, attention turned up toward a spot on the ceiling as she waited. 

You wait a bit longer in silence, listening to Riley sing the lyrics to a faintly familiar rock song, much to mature for her ears—but that can only be the product of her father, which you couldn’t really fault him for. Kids were just as good at paying attention as they were being passive, it was all subjective and only when they wanted to. 

By 3:30 you’re a little more concerned, Riley being the last kid left and not a car or parent in sight.

She sighs exasperated, playing with the loose string on her jumper, “Daddy’s late isn’t he?”

“A little,” You nod, “Is this normal? Does it happen a lot?”

You weren’t trying to point fingers or scrutinize anyone, just simply prodding for more information. 

“My dad works on cars—s’why he looks dirty all the time.” She explains, her words mixing together. “Sometimes the men are mean and keep him at work late.”

“Oh dear,” You sigh slightly, “well, I guess we’ll have to do something to keep us busy.”

You didn’t leave until late into the evening anyways, closer to five—and it wasn’t the first time you’ve had to keep a kid past the normal pickup time, though it had been a while.

“Do you like to color?” You ask curiously.

Riley perks up suddenly, nodding. 

“Well, you’re in luck, Riley.” You tell her, hand held out for her to grab, leading her into the classroom and setting her at a separate table away from the desks. She waits patiently, feeling squeaking against the linoleum as she watches you move around, grabbing a box of crayons and a few spare drawing pages for her to color in. “Can you work on this for me?”

Riley nods again, furiously sifting through the colors and getting to work, scribbling a dark red crayon onto the paper.

You slip away for a moment, crossing the hall to the office and attempting to find someone—anyone that you can check in with, wondering where Eddie was. The secretary pops her head out of the lounge room suddenly, eyeing you curiously.

“Hey, the little one, Riley Munson—has anyone come to ask for her yet?” You ask, “I wanted to make sure she didn’t get lost in the bunch?”

“That’s Eddie Munson’s kid, right?” The older lady asks, a gruffness to her voice from years of smoking. “Huh.”

Huh. You make an annoyed face as she turns her back, walking toward her desk.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask.

“That kid has never had his life together,” She tells you, having known Eddie when he attended Hawkins, “I used to write tardy slips for him everyday—boy would come in smelling of weed almost every day, he’s always been trouble.”

“Weren’t we all trouble in high school?” You ask daringly.

“Not like him,” She tells you, “repeated his senior year three times and didn’t graduate until he was twenty.”

You roll your eyes subtly, the judgment oozing from her in waves. “Can you just call her emergency number and see if we can get someone to pick her up?”

The older woman responds with a noise, picking up the phone between her brittle fingers, startled rightly when someone bursts through the front entrance, keys jingling in their hand.

“God, I’m so sorry—“ Eddie looks even more stressed out than earlier, his face slightly dirty and a greased up handkerchief shoved in his backpacker, “where is she?”

The old lady watched with a pointed look as you nod toward your classroom, avoiding her gaze as you turn your back. 

“I’ve got her busy in my room,” You tell him, leading him toward your door silently, “she’s been very good considering.”

“I promise it’s not always like this,” Eddie says defensively, “today has just—it’s been a day.”

You stop him just outside the entrance, hand placed gently against his chest to still him.

“It’s okay,” You tell him honestly, “but this can’t be a regular thing. You either need to have someone available to pick her up after school on time or work something out with administration. I don’t mind staying after—but I can get in trouble if she stays too late.”

“Look, I mean it—this is the only time.” He stressed, eyes pleading in hopes that you won’t judge him too harshly.

You couldn’t. You would never. You weren’t in a place to judge anyone. 

You nod in understanding, extending your trust. “She’s coloring—go ahead.” You tell him, letting him walk in before you.

Riley can hear the footsteps before she spots you both, her chair skidding against the floor as she bolts toward the door, barreling toward Eddie. He picks her up with ease, scooping her up onto his hip, coloring pages forgotten. 

“I missed you.” He tells her, fingers squeezing gently at her side. She laughs, hugging him tight despite his dirtiness. 

“I miss’d you.” She says softly, arms squeezing around him even further. Eddie smiles, burying his face into her bundle of curls placed lopsided on top of her head.

Eddie pulls away after a moment, looking over at you. “I’m so sorry.” He apologizes again and you’re starting to sense a theme. 

“No need,” You insist, “but come Monday—“

Eddie nods, “I’ll be on time.”

And for whatever odd reason, you believed him. 

You smile at him then at Riley, features softening as she peaks at you from over Eddie’s shoulder.

“I’ll see you on Monday Riley, okay?” You speak to her.

“Yes!” She cheers, leaning over to whisper into Eddie’s ear.

Eddie leans in, laughing at whatever she was saying to him. Eddie pulls away, nodding at Riley in agreement.

“She said you can call her Ri,” Eddie explains, “which is a very prestigious honor, right?” Eddie turns to Riley, her face scrunching up in confusion.

“Prisigious?” Riley repeats in an innocent tone, “Dad, that’s not a word.”

“Oh, it is Ms. Ri,” You respond matter of factually, “prestigious,” You sound out, “it means super important and special, like you.”

Eddie watches the interaction in a happy silence, the exchange more endearing than anything he’s ever witnessed. It had always taken a while for Riley to warm up to new people, which is why he had been so nervous for her first day, but it all seemed ridiculous now after watching the two of you interact. 

“Thank you.” Eddie says suddenly, eyes connecting with yours.

It startles you for a moment, face pulling up in a confused smile.

“For?”

“Not judging, I guess.” He shrugs, “And keeping her company.”

You chuckle softly, “It’s kind of my job, Mr. Munson.”

Eddie grimaces at that, “God—am I that old? We can stick to first names, right?”

And truly, you’re only teasing. You nod in response, waving a warm goodbye to Riley as Eddie grabbed her backpack, shrugging it over his own shoulder.

“Byeeee,” She sings, hand waving over Eddie's shoulder as he triggers her along, more than eager to get her out of your hair, Eddie does mumble to Riley for a moment before she screams out again, “—my daddy said bye too!”

Riley was a character, that was for sure. But seeing her with Eddie, it all made sense.

Eddie keeps his promise, the next month of school going off without a hitch. Riley is there on time, every morning, hell or high water, and she’s just as chipper as you would expect from someone her age. Eddie doesn’t come inside often, only on the few days that Riley has a hard time rolling out of bed, so you don’t see him that often—not that you wanted to.

You totally didn’t want to. Either way, it didn’t matter. 

October is one of the few months that you can enjoy real fun with the kids—holidays always have their positives, as well as their negatives. But, the kids loved crafts and so did you. 

A week out from Halloween and you had purchased a full box of small pumpkins for your kids, one for each, and all the crafts you could imagine—paints, markers, stuff for making silly faces or glitter bombing their pumpkin. You’d made it clear about messes and the kids had followed for the most part.

But, you could only expect so much from a group of six year olds. And in hindsight, you never expected your degree to end up with you constantly hovering around a group of kids hoping they wouldn’t eat the glue sticks or shove crayons up their noses—unfortunately, that was your life. 

You wouldn’t change it for a thing.

And it’s almost peaceful until the time for cleanup comes and there’s a rushed call of your name, the tiny panicked tone sending you into fight or flight, turning on your heels to spot where the voice is coming from.

When you do, it lands on her. Little Riley, covered in paint—her face, hair, clothes, and a boy at her side caught red-handed, quickly dropping the paint when your eyes flick to him. You steady yourself with a deep breath before going back into teacher mode, instructing the rest of the class to sit on the rug at the front of the class room with their legs crossed, grabbing both of the kids gently by the hand and walking them out of the classroom, luckily coming face to face with another teacher who happened to be on break from her class while they attended their specials class, practically begging her to watch the rest of the class for the time being.

“Fifteen minutes, that’s all I need.” You tell her and she agrees.

When you’re finally alone with the two you kneel, taking the younger boy’s hands in yours, calming their insistent shaking.

“You’re not in trouble,” You tell him, Evan, the younger boy responsible, “but do you realize what you did wrong?”

He nods silently.

“I get big emotions too, trust me.” You tell him softly, “But, we can’t take them out on others. Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“He made fun of my clothes!” Riley interrupts with a screech, eyes welling with tears. “He said I dress like a boy.”

“Is that true?” You ask him, receiving a shameful nod.

“It’s not fun being picked on,” You explain to him, “how would you feel if Riley said you dressed silly?”

“Sad.” He answers softly. 

“Exactly.” You smile slightly, “Can you apologize to Riley?”

He turns to her, unable to meet her tiny, heated gaze.

“I’m sorry, Riley.” 

You stare at Riley pointedly, her arms crossed over her chest in defiance. There’s a silent pleading that she seems to understand, chewing on her bottom lip as she relents.

“It’s okay.” She tells him, “I forgive you.”

You nod, satisfied. “Okay, Evan—head back to class, please.”

The boy walks slowly, head hung in shame and embarrassment at having been caught and doing what he did—this behavior was all too familiar and not new in any way.

“He’s stupid.” Riley says with a bite, face smeared with paint.

“Riley,” You warn, “we don’t call people that.”

“Did you say anything to him after he made fun of your clothes?” You ask, hoping to get to the bottom of their little squabble.

“I called him stupid.” She says—it’s almost impossible not to laugh, but you mask it well, gaze flitting up toward the ceiling as Riley flicks the paint off of her hand and wipes them against her ruined overalls, the shirt underneath barely unscathed. 

“Can I let you in on a secret, Ri?” You ask, kneeling down in front of her. She nods slowly, giving you her hands. You did it often with the kids, finding that it calmed them the quickest. “All boys are stupid.”

Riley smiles slightly, giggling quietly. 

You sigh, taking a glance at her and then her outfit.

“Your dad doesn’t pack extra clothes for you, does he?”

Riley shakes her head, pigtails swinging wildly.

You huff, “Okay—let’s brainstorm.”

“Brain…storm?” Riley asks curiously.

You nod, “Yeah, like…come up with ideas. It’s just a silly word for it.”

Riley ponders for a moment, lips pursing together in thought. 

She sighs after a moment, “My brain is empty, no storms.”

You laugh audibly, a short giggle as you stare fondly at the girl.

“Actually,” The thought hits you suddenly, “I think we have some spare clothes in the office, we could take our chances and see if there’s anything in your size. If not, I’ll have to call your dad.”

“No, no—“ She says hurriedly, “don’t call my dad, please.”

You since her concern, eyebrow raising in question.

“I broke his rule.” She frowns, “I gave Evan a mean look and I called him stupid.”

You smile tensely, trying to weigh how to explain things to her, before settling on, “I think he’ll understand, Ri. But, I’ll try my hardest so we don’t have to.” 

The best you can do is a god awful pair of pink corduroy pants in her size, which she very loudly states she dislikes.

“Ew!” She says in disgust. “Can I stay in these, please?”

“Riley,” You stress, “You have to change.”

She slumps in defeat, not putting up much of a fight. She holds her hands out begrudgingly, making small grabbing fists until you hand them over, quickly skittering off to the bathroom.

When she returns, she looks even more annoyed, but cleaner.

“My face,” She frowns, “it’s sticky.”

“Yep, kiddo.” You nod, taking her ruined overalls and stuffing them into a plastic bag before tying them off, leaving them for Eddie to pick up later. “I’ve got wipes in my classroom and we’ll get you cleaned up.”

It’s a struggle, but you do manage to get most of the paint cleaned up while the other teacher manages your class, holding their attention with a book she read out loud, letting you deal with Riley in silence. Her hair is a challenge, still sticky and hardened with paint—you manage what you can, undoing her pigtails and wiping out as much paint as possible before braiding the hair back nicely and keeping it out of her face. She feels the bumps in her hair curiously, making a face.

“Braids.” You explain. “Have you ever had them?”

“Daddy can’t do them.” She tells you. “I like piggies. But I also like the braids.”

“Well, maybe you can bribe him into learning if you like them a lot.” You tell her, helping her down from the desk she was perched on. “But, I can always do it for you if you really want them on a certain day.”

You urged her back toward the group of kids, watching as she took a seat toward the rear, hands twisted in her lap as she listened quietly—she seemed less comfortable, more outcast than normal, and while Riley had a big personality—it wasn’t showing now. 

When Eddie arrives later that day for pickup, it’s a flurry of emotions. Riley immediately bursts into tears when she sees him, still one of the last kids to be picked up—but he’s not too late.

He stares up at you with a myriad of questions and you hand the dirty clothes over wordlessly. He glances at Riley, nudging her face away from his shoulder. “Hey—hey, what’s wrong?”

Riley looks up at you desperately, frown pulling at her face.

“Ri, why don’t you go play over at the table,” You suggest, “the toys are in the bin underneath.”

She nods, letting go of Eddie in an instant.

When she’s finally busied herself, you pull Eddie aside, leaning against the edge of your desk. “There was a little incident today. A boy teased Riley for her clothes and she called him stupid,” You sigh, crossing your arms over your chest, “we were decorating pumpkins and there was some paint involved—the other kid spilled paint all over her.”

“And no one called me?” Eddie asks, frustration evident in his face.

You held your hands up defensively, “Riley was very insistent that I don’t—luckily we had some spare clothes in the office.”

“Why—why wouldn’t she want you to call me?”

“She said she broke your rules,” You explain to him, “whatever that means. Regardless, I tried to clean her up as best I could. She still has a bit of paint in her hair.”

Eddie glances over at his daughter, still frowning as she plays. He knew the sadness was temporary, but damn if he wasn’t playing into it. He notices the braids a half second later, glancing back at you briefly and then toward her again.

“Sorry if I overstepped—her hair was a bit of a mess.” You admit to him, “I won’t do it again if you don’t want me to.”

Eddie laughs slightly, “No—it’s fine. I’m at a complete loss when it comes to that stuff.” He scratches at his cheek, grime covered rings leaving a dark mark against his skin in the process. You smile to yourself, pulling a wipe from the packet and handing it over.

“It’s—you got something on your face.” You tell him, pointing to the spot.

“Here?”

“No,” You point again, Eddie moves a smidgen over but still isn’t in the right spot, “—just, here, give me it—“ Eddie hands over the wipe and waits for you to clean away the mark, leaning toward you slightly.

“She’s had a rough day,” You tell him quietly, wiping at his face until it’s gone, tossing the wipe into the trash, “and maybe paint with a bunch of six year olds wasn’t too smart, but I think you’ll really like what she made.”

Eddie eyes you suspiciously, watching as you call out to Riley.

“Hey Ri, did you want to show your dad what you made today?” 

She perks up slightly, skittering over to her desk in hurry as she fetches the small pumpkin before handing it over to Eddie.

“It’s you, daddy!” She beams, pointing out the dark marks that were supposed to be hair, comically wide eyes and a half smile on the front. He turned it, seeing the small group of bats she drew on the back. He smiles, rubbing tenderly at her chin.

“I wasn’t sure what the bats were all about but she insisted.” 

“Oh,” Eddie notes, pulling his sleeve up to show off his inked up arm—and really, it didn’t shock you much, “that’s why.”

“Crap, Ri—I almost forgot,” You tell her, rounding your desk to open the drawer housing the pages of stickers, “I need you to pick out a sticker for your desk.”

She gasps excitedly, yanking away from Eddie without hesitation and running to your side, fingers dragging along the page until she finds the one she wants, letting you pluck it from the paper and hand it over. 

Eddie knows he’ll still have to sit and talk with Riley when they get home to make sure she’s working through her emotions correctly instead of bottling them up—something he was much too guilty of as a teenager. He hates seeing her repeat the same habits he did, doing as much as he could to avoid it.

Eddie’s quick to thank you again and again, a strange habit he’s formed around you. Oddly enough, you couldn’t find it in yourself to stop him.

Grocery shopping is always an adventure with Riley. Eddie never had a list of things he needed, more or less just picking out whatever sounded good, but that also meant an unhealthy amount of snacks being piled in the cart. Eddie didn’t have it in him to tell Riley to put things back, knowing she’d pull out the big guns. Some would call him weak—he was, he could admit that. 

“Can you reach it?” Eddie asked, Riley hoisted up onto his shoulders to reach the cereal box on the top shelf. It definitely wasn’t the safest option, but it was working.

“Higher!” She instructed, grunting out as she stretched, “Ha—gotcha!”

Eddie laughs, “Are we good?”

No response, a small amount of wiggling on his shoulders. 

“Ri?”

She gasps suddenly, screaming out your name from over the aisle—Eddie rightfully panics, hoisting her off of his shoulders carefully.

“Riley, you can’t scream in public like that.” Eddie tells her, pulling the cereal box from her grip.

“But…Ms.—“ Riley defends feebly, her fingers pouting to the aisle over.

You did spot her, in fact, giving her a quick wave and a cheeky smile as you pushed your cart down the aisle, making your way through the store. When you round the corner, Eddie and her are still standing there arguing, animated enough that you stand back, not wanting to interrupt.

Eddie stares up at you after a moment, eyes already speaking an apology.

“Stop,” You tell him suddenly, a grin breaching your face, “no apologies, it’s not necessary.”

“I was going to apologize for my child’s lack of filter,” Eddie says, pulling gently at Riley’s ear, “but I guess she was just really excited to see you.”

“As I am you, miss.” You tell her softly, offering out your fist to her. She bumps it gently, giggling up at Eddie.

The silence that settles is bordering on awkward, both of you deciding to speak at the same time.

“So, you shop here—“

“You’re in the way of—“

Eddie chuckles awkwardly, “You first.”

“You’re in the way of the cereal I was going to grab.” You inform, waving toward that side of the aisle.

“Oh, shit.” He curses, quickly shoving his cart out of the way.

“Dad,” Riley sings, a telltale sign that Eddie had done something wrong, “that’s another dollar.”

“How about I buy you a chocolate bar and we call it even?” Eddie barters, staring the small child down.

She contemplates for a moment, “Deal.”

“She’s clever.” You note with a smirk, reaching around Eddie to grab the box of cereal before shoving it in your cart. 

“And a handful.” Eddie adds fondly.

“Dad,” Riley pokes at Eddie’s side, “Dad, daddyyyy.”

“What, Ri?” He asks, turning to her.

“Can we invite her over for dinner?” She asks innocently, a grin appearing on her face, hopeful optimism some would call it. 

“Riley—she’s your teacher, I can’t do that.”

“It’s not against any rules.” You shrug, mouth speaking before your brain can process. “I wouldn’t want to intrude though, that would be very nice of me.”

Eddie quickly answers, “Uh, you wouldn’t actually.”

“He’s making my favorite!” Riley interjects.

“And what’s that?” You ask with a similar enthusiasm.

“Spaghetti!” It was a mouthful for her to say, but you understand her well enough.

You shrug, glancing up at Eddie. “I don’t know, she’s selling me a pretty good dinner.”

“Would you?” Eddie asks, “Want to?”

“I don’t see why not?” You ask redundantly, “I would’ve ended up grabbing a pizza on my way home anyways—so why not some real Italian food?”

Eddie looks at you with an uneasy expression, “I don’t know about real—or Italian, but I promise it’ll be edible.”

“I’m sold.” You admit, slipping out a pen and paper from your purse, “Give me your address and the time I should be there.”

Riley is a tiny ball of excitement, yanking at the unoccupied hand Eddie left by his side as scribbled down on the notepad before handing it back to you. You note the information before slipping it back into your purse. 

“Well Ri, I guess I’ll see you in a couple hours.” You tell her with a smile before looking up at Eddie, “Should I bring anything?”

“No, no—it’ll be our treat, right?” He asks, looking down at his daughter.

“Yep!” She pops the word, bouncing on her heels.

Even being around her energy was enough to exhaust you, so you could only imagine how Eddie was feeling. You offer a friendly wave to both of them before disappearing down the aisle, wondering what the hell just happened. 

The moment you arrive at the trailer park, your heart feels like it’s going to pound out of your chest—not out of fear or nervousness, but mostly out of the unknown. It was the first time you’ve interacted with parents outside of work, not that you made it a habit, but you have befriended a few. It was a natural thing that happened and nothing that ever felt forced—with Eddie, it was strangely comfortable despite how little you knew about him, or Riley, even. 

You pull to a stop outside the pale blue trailer, the front yard a mixture of new flowers and some wilted away, a few small statues of animals that you could guess were a product of Riley. You can hear her on the other side of the door before you even knock, belting out a song at the top of her lungs.

You knock loudly in hopes that Eddie can hear, thankfully he does, opening the door in record time—strangely fast when you take time to think about. You smile at the thought of him having been waiting at the door, then feeling ridiculous for even having that thought.

“You’re just in time,” Eddie says, slightly out of breath, “Riley’s putting on a show in the living room.”

You take in his appearance fully now, unashamed—he’s cleaner obviously, his hair looks more thought out and poised, small ringlet curls falling around his face and his bangs looking straighter, like he might’ve cut them. He’s got a pair of jeans on and a clean shirt, stain free—socks covering his feet, a pile of shoes stuffed by the door. 

You step inside, toeing off your shoes wordlessly and placing your bag and coat on the coat hanger behind the door. Eddie shuts the door for you, nodding in the direction of the noise coming from several feet away. 

“Is that Nirvana?” You ask curiously, turning your head back toward Eddie.

“She’s a character, I know,” Eddie feels the need to state, but that was already blatantly obvious, “it’s one of her favorite bands.”

You shrug, feeling indifferent.

“You don’t like them?” Eddie asks, noticing your stagnant expression. 

“I don’t listen to much music.” You admit, “I don’t really have the time unless it is something from Barney or one of those silly education videos we show the kids.”

Eddie looks pained to hear it, eyebrows shooting up under his bang. Riley notices you then, hopping off of the couch and running toward you, arms wrapping around your legs in a tight hug. 

“You made it,” She says, “daddy said dinner was almost done.”

“It is,” He confirms, setting the plates down on the kitchen table as he wanders around finishing things up, “you can sit, if you want.”

You opt against it, waiting until Riley busies herself with something else, joining Eddie near the kitchen stove, tapping your fingers against the kitchen counter gently.

“Smells good,” You tell him honestly, the scent invading your nose, “I can’t even remember the last time I cooked for myself.”

“She keeps me in check,” He nods behind him, “otherwise I’d be ordering carry out everyday like I was still in high school.”

You smile at that, silently agreeing—it was your current reality, but you also didn’t have the same responsibilities Eddie did.

You look around curiously, eyes falling on the jar placed on the shelf a few feet away, labeled ‘swear jar’ and by the looks of it, it was definitely time for a new one. Eddie looks up briefly to catch you staring at things, chuckling loudly behind you.

“I already know,” Eddie tells you, “It’s a terrible habit and I’ve tried to break it, we’re still working on it, clearly.”

You smile fondly, watching as Riley scattered her toys on the floor. “I try to keep it constrained around the kids, but it slips out every now and then. You just have to get creative, come up with other words—otherwise she’ll be saying fuck in public and I can’t imagine anything more embarrassing.”

Eddie gawks at your vulgar use of the words, face splitting into a subtle smile. “Too late.” He tells you. 

You couldn’t even act surprised. Eddie nods knowingly at your expression, turning off the stove.

“Could you do me a huge favor?” Eddie asks.

“Anything.” You nod.

“Let Riley know the food is done and get her to the table—she can be a little hard headed about it.”

If there was anyone to combat that, it was you. 

It only takes one try, much to Eddie’s obvious frustration as he glares Riley down—the young girl knew exactly what she was doing and he couldn’t fault her for it, she was clever. 

“Do you want a beer?” Eddie calls from the kitchen.

You glance over at Riley who’s oblivious to the conversation, dragging her spoon along the empty plate. And as much as you would normally say yes, you can’t bring yourself to do it now.

“Uh no, I’ll be okay.” You tell him, waving your hand dismissively. Eddie shrugs nonchalantly, grabbing himself one.

Dinner is pleasant—and delicious. Riley takes up most of the talking points—her favorite animals, her favorite shows, and all the cool things she’s learned at school, not that you didn’t already know about them. But, she’s also terrible at stopping intrusive thoughts, much like any young kid is, and her questions catch you off guard every now and then.

“Are you married?” Coming from her, it sounds ridiculous—but she’s pointing at the ring on your hand with a curious look, her fingertip dragging over the gem.

“Riley.” Eddie reprimands, “Stop being nosey.”

Eddie was just as curious, but that didn’t matter. 

“No, sweetheart—I’m not.” You tell her honestly with a short laugh and a head shake. “It was a present I got when I finished school.”

Riley’s lips puff out, thinking. “School like I do?—but you’re old.”

Eddie hangs his head slightly, taking a big chug of his beer.

It’s nothing you haven’t heard before, “I am.” You nod in agreement, “But no, it’s a little different. It’s school for grownups—it’s how I became a teacher.”

“Oh.” Is all she says, satisfied with your answer. 

There’s a beat of silence before she turns to her father.

“Can I have a ring when I finish school?” She asks innocently.

“Sure.” Eddie agrees, downing the last bite on his plate.

Late dinners had become a habit lately with Eddie’s job not being as convenient as it used to—long hours, angry customers, it was a monotonous cycle but that money was good. Eddie really couldn’t complain, he’d just wished there was more time for Riley.

“Hey, squirt—go brush your teeth and get ready for bed.” Eddie tells her. She slumps a little, frowning over at you.

Eddie gives her a look—you’ve seen it several times before from many parents. Riley sighs in defeat and slips from her chair, stomping away quietly. You glance down at the dishes, then the sink before looking at Eddie. He’s got that distracted stare on his face as he turns, finishing off his beer as he watches Riley disappear into the bathroom.

“Why don’t you help her?” You suggest, “I can clean this up and you can get her into bed?”

Eddie looks uncertain, “No—I can—“

“It’s the least I can do,” You insist, “seriously—it’s not a problem.”

Eddie knows there’s no reason to argue, placing the empty bottle down on the table and meeting up with Riley down the hall, a squeal echoing through the trailer as he bursts through the doorway. 

Eddie’s gotten Riley into a routine pretty easily, so it doesn’t take much for her to fall asleep besides a quick bedtime story while she snuggles up to Eddie before she’s out like a light and he’s sneaking out of her room, pulling the door closed slowly until it finally clicks shut. 

You’d already managed to get most of the dishes washed by then—plates, silverware, cups, save for the giant pot that Eddie had cooked in. 

“I can handle the rest if you need to leave.” Eddie says quietly, voice still low as he walks into the kitchen, flipping off the other lights as he goes. “Also—I’m sorry if you felt obligated to do this. Riley really likes you and sometimes she grows these…attachments.”

You take the clean towel he hands you, drying your hands as you turn to him, hip pressed against the counter as you lean there. “She’s not the first, trust me. I see those kids almost everyday and for the younger ones it’s a little…tricky, I guess.”

“Tricky?” Eddie asks curiously, sensing your apprehension around the word. He tossed the pot into the sink and scrubbed quietly, listening to you talk.

“Some of the kids don’t have the best home life, I try to keep things positive and cheerful—as much as I can, at least. Kids love being surrounded by love and I try to emulate that. The ones with divorced parents or just one even—you can tell they just need someone to understand them.”

Eddie tries not to think about it often—his past, his present, how Riley has to survive this world without her mom. He knows she’ll be safe and protected for the rest of her life, Eddie would make sure of it. But, for a kid to grow up without a mother—he knows the pain personally and it bothers Riley, even at this age and no matter how good she is at masking it.

Eddie huffs out a faint laugh, drying out the dish before placing it on the dish rack next to the sink, pressing his hands against the edge of the counter. 

“I don’t ever mean to press or pry,” You assure Eddie, “but if Riley ever needs anything, tell me. I extend that to all of the parents but—she’s—“

“Different.” Eddie answers for you, a smile pulling at his face. 

“She’s incredibly smart, you know.” You inform him, backing up slowly as he follows, reaching for your things to leave. “She picks up on words like nothing, she can do math in her head really well—you’ve got a tiny little genius on your hands.”

“Yeah—I’ve been helping her with her homework, she keeps telling me we need to brainstorm,” Eddie tells you, throwing his finger up to do air quotes, “when we get stuck on a problem.”

Your nose scrunches up in amusement as you find your coat over your arms, “That was definitely my fault.” You admit.

Eddie follows you out like a gentleman despite the frigid wind, hands shoved deep into his back pockets. He opens your door, the metal groaning in protest—it was an old car, reliable, trustworthy, and as your key turns in the ignition, nothing happens.

Scratch reliable—it was a piece of shit, through and through. 

You rest your forehead against the steering wheel, mumbling a low, “Fuck me.”

Eddie takes a step forward, leaning between your open door to poke his head inside, “I can take a look if you want.”

You rub your hands over your face in frustration, looking up at him sheepishly. “I really don’t want to bother you with it.”

“Come on,” Eddie smiles, “I work on cars for a living, I think I’ll survive.”

You wave your hand toward the hood of your car in response. Eddie taps the hood of your car absentmindedly, rounding the front as you pull on the pedal near the floor to pop the hood open. He leans down, out of view, and you can’t help but follow after him, leaning into his space slightly as he examines your engine. 

You wouldn’t even know where to start or what cord goes to what point or however it all worked—fortunately for Eddie, it only takes him a few minutes to figure it out.

Eddie makes a face of concentration as he reaches further inside, pulling at a small part until he can hold it in his hand, inspecting it further. 

“Shit, yeah—“ Eddie says, confirming his suspicions, “you need new spark plugs.”

Your eyebrows knit together in obvious confusion. 

“I can clean them up a bit and we can hope it starts—but you’ll need to buy new ones soon, otherwise this is gonna keep happening.” Eddie tells you, using the end of his shirt to wipe away the built up residue, your mouth dropping in shock.

“Eddie, what the—“ You quickly yank the spark plug from his hand, “that shirt is clean, what are you doing?”

Eddie’s a little startled, given your immediate reaction. He stumbles out an awkward laugh and gently pries the spark plug from your grip. “They’re just clothes.”

And you do feel bad, but it’s become your second nature to stop messes, keep kids clean, and slip into the normal habit of being a teacher and in turn, a bit motherly.

Eddie’s faze doesn’t linger from yours, watching as you deflated slightly. “Sorry—I can’t help it.”

“I get it,” Eddie grins slightly, “but don’t worry, it’s an old shirt anyways.”

Your cheeks run hot, triggered by embarrassment and something you were too afraid to admit.

And if Eddie sees it, he doesn’t say anything. 

He fiddles with the car a moment longer before finally closing the hood, “Try it now.”

It does start—with some moaning and groaning, but it works and that’s satisfying enough for you.

“Thank you.” You tell him, looking up at him from where’s squeezed between the car and the door again, dark grease stains staring you in the face—along with a lot more, but you quickly turn away. 

“No problem,” He shrugs, “—hey, why don’t you bring it to the shop when you have time?”

“Are you sure?” You ask.

It’s a recurring theme with you two, constantly afraid of offending the other or doing something out of line.

“Yeah,” He nods, “It’ll save the hassle of you being overpriced or selling something you don’t need. I can have it done in an hour.”

“Small problem,” You tell him begrudgingly, “I’m pretty sure I work the same hours you do—so that makes it nearly impossible.”

“Are you busy next Saturday?” He asks boldly, no easing into it.

“No.” You answer hesitantly, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Stop by here and I’ll drive you up to the shop,” He tells you, “I’ve got a set of keys so it won’t be a problem.”

“Do you do this for all your customers?” You ask with a soft laugh.

“Only the special ones,” Eddie replies with a wide grin, bordering on flirtatious, “—Riley would have my head if she found out you needed help and I didn’t at least try.”

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” You respond teasingly.

Eddie shrugs in response, the smugness written all over his face. “I’ll see you on Monday.” He says, slipping the door closed gently.

You’ve never sat through a longer Sunday waiting for a dreadful Monday to come.

Eddie has a rough start to his morning, which isn’t new, but he tries to make the best of it, even if Riley is having none of it. She sobs most of the time spent getting dressed, not even allowing Eddie to touch her hair, leaving it a tangled mess atop her head. He’s learned to choose his battles, managing to get her ready and to school with enough time to spare that can allow him to drive to work without the constant worry of being late. 

When you spot him you can’t help but smile, less forced and a lot more genuine than most of the ones you gave. 

“Hard morning.” He mouths over Riley’s shoulder, her face tucked into his neck and arms wound tightly around it.

You frown in response, patting Riley’s back as he moves closer, “It’s okay, I hate Mondays too.” You tell her comfortingly. 

“Hey, kid—you’ve gotta let go.” He tells her softly, nudging her away from his neck, “I have to get to work and you have school.”

She doesn’t move—Eddie’s face falls, a heavy sigh leaving his mouth. You hold up a finger to him, asking him to wait. He nods, slightly confused as you walk around him to his back, catching Riley’s gaze. She quickly hides her face, making a small noise.

“Tell you what,” You start, crossing your arms over your chest, “if you let go of your daddy now, I can probably have your hair braided before class starts.”

She peaks her head up slowly and you know you’ve got her attention.

“Daddy, I want down.” She tells him and Eddie scoffs lightly.

“How?” Eddie asks you with a look of disbelief, placing Riley on the floor. “That’s ridiculous. I’ve been struggling with her all morning.”

“She probably senses your frustration.” You tell him honestly.

Eddie never took his own emotions into account, looking down at Riley, her hand still latched into his. 

“Besides, kids are complex but really simple,” You kneel down to Riley’s level, grabbing a single stray curl, “they all want, you just have to figure out what it is.”

“I tried touching her hair,” Eddie defends, “she wasn’t having it.”

“Because daddy makes my hair look ugly.” Riley complains softly, staring up at you with earnest eyes. You laugh to yourself, patting her hand and letting her curl her fingers around your palm. 

You look up at Eddie with a sad smile, sending his rapidly growing frustration, nodding at him slightly. “Go—it’s okay.”

He scratches at his forehead, feeling horrible for wanting nothing more than to leave immediately. He prides himself on being able to handle himself well under stress, anger—every god awful emotion imaginable, but he needed a break, even if that meant leaving without a proper goodbye. 

Besides, you did a perfect job at distracting Riley, playing with the ends of her hair as you asked, “One braid or two?”

“Two.” She smiles, bouncing on her heels. “Please?”

“You got it, babe.” You tell her.

You’ve experienced connections with kids before, some stronger than others, but nothing like with Riley. It was hard to comprehend, or fully imagine was capable, but you’re happy to be there for any kid, however they needed you. 

The week remains meltdown free after that and Saturday rolls around quicker than you expect. When you arrive at Eddie’s trailer Riley is nowhere to be seen.

“She’s with my uncle.” Eddie explains. “He’s more like her grandpa—but yeah, he’s keeping her for the night.”

“Oh, okay.” You nod.

“I needed a break.” He admits without prompting, feeling the need to get it off his chest. 

“Look, you don’t have to explain yourself to me.” You tell him politely, “I’m not in any place to judge you.”

“I know—I just, nevermind—“ He laughs awkwardly, holding his hand out, “Mind if I drive?”

“Please?" You beg, slapping the keys into his open palm.

The drive is quiet and Eddie can’t be bothered to fill it, relishing in the silence and letting it settle. His hand grips the worn out steering wheel, rings cracking against the leather. He remembers the feeling faintly, the pull in his stomach from anxiety, the fluttering butterfly feeling of the unknown. It only happened once, with Riley’s mom.

It was their first date, a girl Eddie had met by chance at one of his shows at the Hideout—he never expected her to turn his life upside down, but she did.

It feels cheap, thinking this way—that the possibility of you and him having the same experience as he did several years ago could even be possible. He barely knew you, yet he could see it. He saw it then and he saw it now. Eddie’s never believed in soulmates or one true love’s—he still doesn't. But, he’s always believed in taking chances, even if things seemed slim to none. He pushes the thought aside for now, offering a tight smile to your warm one, pulling into the entrance to the shop.

He leaves for a brief moment, unlocking the side door to raise the garage and leave enough room to fit your car inside.

You hate how it feels like you’re back in high school again, sneaking into somewhere you shouldn’t, even though you knew this wasn’t illegal and Eddie worked there. It made you feel giddy—that same naive exuberance spreading throughout your body. 

When you’re finally inside and Eddie can start his work, it’s a waiting game. You wander around aimlessly, finally interrupted by Eddie’s voice, “We have a lobby if you want to sit down.” He offers, using the wrench to point in that direction. 

You shake your head, gradually walking to his side.

“Are you sure it’s safe to wear your rings while you’re doing this?” You ask, pointing at his hand.

“Yes,” He says with a laugh, “I’ve done it for a little over seven years and I’ve never been hurt before.”

Eddie catches your gaze, eyebrows pulling together.

“Would it make you feel better if I took them off?” Eddie asks in a slight teasing tone, a playful way of making fun of you. 

“No, no—I believe you—“ You tell him, but Eddie’s already removing them, placing them on the tray behind him. 

“Better to be safe than sorry, right?” He asks with a smirk, flipping the wrench between his fingers.

Showoff, your brain screams. “Yep.” You answer meekly. 

He leans over the hood, shirt riding up his back in the process, revealing an even larger ink than the one on his arm, you tilt your head and can’t help but stare, wondering what was underneath.

“Can you hand me a rag?” Eddie asks, his hand shooting behind him blindly—you don’t hear him immediately so he turns, catching where your gaze had been.

He smiles cautiously, glancing down at his chest.

“Were you—“ He points toward his back, aiming for his ass.

“No—no god, I was—I saw the tattoo on your back.” You stutter out, “I was just wondering what it was.”

“Oh,” Eddie says, lifting his shirt up with no warning, toned muscle and pale skin on display, a large intricate design of tree spreading from the side of his chest and over his right pectoral around to his back, covering a large percentage of it, “it’s not that interesting—but it’s a special one.”

“Can I ask why?”

It’s an innocent question, only wanting to understand him better.

“Uh—it’s a little silly, so don’t laugh.” Eddie prefaces, shifting his shirt back down. “I got it a couple years after I met Riley’s mom—she never like restaurants or fancy dates so we always ended up grabbing fast food and sitting out at the park under a tree.”

“That’s beautiful,” You say truthfully, “it’s beautiful.”

“It was, uh—before she passed,” Eddie clears his throat, rubbing at the back of his ear awkwardly, “anyways, it comforts Ri when she asks about her, all she really has is pictures. She’s still young though, so I try to answer questions when she has them.”

“I’m sorry.” You say, but you can tell Eddie doesn’t need to hear it. Still, he accepts it. 

“It’s been a while, I’ve processed it.” Eddie tells you, “I guess it’s my dedication to her and that I’ll always be there for Riley.”

“You’re a good dad,” You tell him, a hand placed on his fidgeting ones as he twisted the spark plug in his grip, “—but I don’t think that needs to be said.”

“Yeah, but shoving my kid off on my uncle isn’t very fatherly of me.” He says, deprecating himself. “Some days are just…rough.”

Eddie turns to finish up the job with a somber look, eyebrows pulled together in concentration, managing to replace your spark plugs with brand new ones without a problem before testing to make sure your car starts with ease. It does, thankfully.

“I have those days too,” You assure him, arms crossed casually over your chest, “I know it’s not the same but I understand, to some degree.”

Eddie makes a soft ‘pfft’ sound, pulling up the front of his shirt to wipe away the sweat and grime from his face.

“A classroom full of kids all day and no way to escape,” Eddie’s voice is muffled behind the cloth, “I’d lose my fucking mind.”

You stare selfishly, eyeing the small patch of hair that disappears under his belt, the other littering did tattoos on his chest—it should feel wrong, but it doesn’t settle the immense need and want you felt in the moment. 

Again, Eddie catches you.

You’re better at recovering this time, ignoring his pointed gaze and subtly raised eyebrow.

“I’m usually about ninety percent of the way there every day.” You admit sheepishly. 

“I know you’re probably going to say no, but do you want a beer?” Eddie asks, “I’ve got a few stashed in the fridge in my office.”

“Yeah, actually.” You reply and Eddie pulls his bottom lip between his teeth in an effort to suppress his smile, “I will.”

“Follow me.” Eddie instructs, nodding his head in the opposite direction. You follow closely behind his quick footsteps, failing to hear the, “Oh—but watch out for the tires—“

Your feet slip out from under you and you fully prepare your face to hit the concrete, but it never does. 

“Holy shit,” You gasp, “this place is like a death trap.”

Eddie chuckles loudly at that, the arms that squeezed you tight to keep you from falling finally pulling you up. 

“That’s my fault,” Eddie admits, “I forgot to put them away yesterday.”

You sigh shakily, staring up at Eddie. “Once my heart stops pounding out my chest I’ll be okay.”

“Sorry.” Eddie offers a weary smile, shifting you in front of him rather than letting you trail behind. “It’s on your left, yep—and the light switch is on—nevermind, you got it.”

You laugh under your breath, scooting forward as Eddie slipped in behind you, fetching the two bottles from the fridge and slamming them on the edge of the desk, subsequently popping the caps off. You stare on with a dazed astonishment.

“No bottle opener.” He offers humorously, handing you one of the bottles. You take it from his hand, regardless of how dirty it may be from his hands that were still horribly messy.

You take a seat on the edge of the old desk, legs crossed at your ankles as you sipped at the beer. “So, how much do I owe you?”

“Oh, don’t worry about—“

“Eddie.”

“I’m not joking.”

You roll your eyes, pulling a small wad of cash out of your front pocket—it was around a hundred bucks, since you weren’t sure how expensive those parts actually were. 

“Take it.” You say, shoving the money at his chest.

“No.” He answers adamantly, pushing your hand away.

“At least let me pay for the parts?”

Eddie says your name once, full tone and leaving no room for argument. “I meant it, you’ve done enough to help me out, let me repay the favor.”

“It’s my job, Eddie.” You retort, a tinge of annoyance in your tone. 

“And this is mine.” He tells you. “So get over it—I’m not accepting your money.”

“You’re so infuriating.” You complain with heartfelt irritation, shoving the money back into your pocket. Eddie rolls his eyes just as enthusiastically, shifting from his spot on the wall until he’s lingering in the space between, still a comfortable few feet away.

Eddie chugs the beer like nothing while you continue to nurse yours, only taking a few measly sips. 

“The ring,” Eddie asks suddenly, “you said you got it as a gift for finishing school?”

And maybe he’s just trying to start friendly conversation—but you’re not sure if you should lie again, or tell him the truth. You set the beer down, twisting the jewelry over your finger. You never talked about how it came about or the history behind it. It had always been a secret for you and you only. Unlike Eddie, you didn’t process death as easily. 

“That was a lie,” You tell him honestly, extending the moment of sincerity you had with him earlier, “can I trust you with something and swear you’ll never repeat it back to anyone—even me?”

Eddie makes an odd face, trying to decipher your choice of wording. But, he nods.

“I got pregnant during my final year of college,” You start, the words hitting harder than you expect, but you swallow the painful lump in your throat, “she was due in December of that year, but I had a stillborn around six months.”

Eddie’s expression quickly shifts, eyes flicking down toward the floor.

“It’s her birthstone—“ You say, holding out your hand weakly as Eddie reaches for it, looking at the stone embedded in the silver, “she probably would’ve been around the same age as your daughter.”

Eddie says your name tenderly, fingers still lingering on the underside of your palm, “I’m so sorry.”

You laugh softly, clearly uncomfortable. “Anyways, everything happens for a reason, right? I guess it’s just a small way to remember her.”

Eddie hates how well he can relate to it. 

“Are you done?” He asks, reaching for your beer.

“Uh, yeah.” You respond slowly, forcing yourself to take a breath. “Thanks.”

The walk to your car is even slower, quiet, whatever happier mood that lingered earlier was nowhere in sight. You blame yourself for bringing the mood down, trying to find someone to lighten it. But, Eddie’s quicker than you, and throwing you a curveball from miles away.

“Can I take you out?” Eddie asks boldly, “On a proper date, I mean.”

“Um,” You linger on the word, standing uneasy as you lean against your car door, “—Eddie, we probably shouldn’t.”

“Why not?” Eddie asks, headstrong like his daughter unfortunately.

“Things can get…complicated.” You tell him, “I don’t want Riley getting the wrong idea.”

“Fine, not a date then.” Eddie levels.

“Then what?”

“We can hang out.”

Suddenly it’s like you’re eighteen again and you can’t help but want to go against every moral set before you. 

“Hang out,” The words feel weird on your tongue, “Eddie—you do know what that usually entails, right?”

“Hey, I’m a complete gentleman, okay?” Eddie defends, “That’s why I asked you on a date.”

Your lips pull together in a tight line, hating yourself for wanting to say yes so badly. 

Eddie pulls that salaciously sweet grin of his, hands placed on either side of the top of your car, breath quickening as he pulls a bit closer, still giving you enough room to feel comfortable. 

“Tell me no then,” Eddie challenges, “just say the word and I’ll drop it.”

Eddie can see it in your face, how badly you wanted to cave and say yes. 

“Eddie.” You warn, the name sounding too wicked on your tongue. “Please.”

You’re not sure what you’re begging for. 

“Fine,” Eddie tells you lowly, eyes connecting with yours when they try to pull away, “—but let me do this one thing and then if you want to change your mind, we can forget about this.”

“What thing?” You retort back with attitude, conflicting emotions causing you to play into his game, whatever it was.

Eddie shakes his head in disbelief, “I’m gonna kiss you.” He tells you openly, “After that, if you change your mind, that’s fine.”

You find yourself nodding without fully realizing and Eddie’s lips are against yours in a slow press, not hurried or rushed, a small noise pulled from your lips as he pushes further, lips smacking against yours loudly. You inhale sharply, the scent of Eddie surrounding you—it was sweat and cigarettes and everything that would normally disgust you in an instant, but with Eddie it was intoxicating. Your hands drift to his face carefully, thumbs dragging along his cheeks gently, pulling up to wrap your arms around his neck, fully giving yourself over to him, allowing yourself to cherish the moment properly. 

Eddie muffled a soft laugh against your lips, a hand cupping the side of your face out of curiosity, wanting to touch you as much as he possibly could while still trying to be respectful to you. Eddie seems to forget how dirty he is though, because when he does finally pull away, he’s laughing again. 

“Fuck, I forgot,” He says, reaching for the clean handkerchief in his back pocket, wiping the dark mark off of your face, “sorry.”

“You apologize too much.” You tell him, shoving his hand away playfully. “—I will, by the way.”

Eddie beams at the answer, “I fucking knew it.”

“Hey—no gloating,” You warn him and Eddie shrinks slightly, it was a wonder what a stern voice could do, and you’d mastered that pretty well in the past few years, “we need to be careful about this—whatever this is.”

Eddie nods, “Yeah, of course.”

“Riley can’t know, my job—no one.” You tell him. “If this is just a one time thing, I don’t want it ruining anything.”

And Eddie should feel slighted, but he does understand.

“It won’t.” He assures you and you hate how easily it makes you smile.

You both knew there was no possible way this was going to be a one time thing. You’d be lying to yourself. 

“Good.” You smile triumphantly, “Now—are you driving or am I?” 

Eddie snatches the keys from your hands with an eye roll and a self-righteous smirk.

There was never a way for you to realize just how much trouble you were getting yourself into, not yet. 

[charmsandhexes]

the green-eyed monster rears its head

. . . will it succeed again?

a babe is on her doorstep, looking to be almost the exact same age her dudders would've been, had he not been a stillborn. it seems almost too good to be true for petunia dursley. it is.

•——————•°•✿•°•——————•

(cw: as mentioned above, the dursleys are dealing with dudley being a stillborn)

•——————•°•✿•°•——————•

it was a perfectly normal fall's morning—albeit chillier than expected. petunia had gotten up earlier than vernon, as usual, and set about her day preparing breakfast. when she left her kitchen to get the milk she needs to prepare her tea, she was understandably shocked by the sleeping baby on her doorstep. it had been a perfectly normal morning, after all. she let out a shriek, calling for her husband and waking the baby (how it managed to get an ounce of rest when its only source of warmth was the blanket swaddled around it is beyond her). petunia looked back down, still unsure if the infant on her doorstep was really there, and it was then she noticed the excruciatingly familiar green eyes it had. lily's eyes.    milk forgotten, petunia carried the child in.

•——————•°•✿•°•——————•

"why would you shriek like tha— what is that?!" vernon asked, panting. the walk downstairs tended to do that to him. "a baby. he was on our doorstep," petunia said, having checked for the baby's gender as soon as she shut the door. there was no doubt about it. she could just tell it was lily's child. he looked too much like that potter she married. "there's a letter," she added, shifting baby harry into her left arm and pulling out the wax-sealed envelope. if this is her child, then she must be dead. there would be no other reason for her to leave her baby here. vernon looked at the baby in her arms, and suddenly he softened. "we should keep him. with everything the doctor's— we might not have this chance again."  stupid, perfect, magical lily. even in the art of motherhood, she has me beat. petunia wasn't sure what she wanted to find when she opened that letter. she recognized the writing almost immediately as dumbledore's— she never quite got over that embarrassment, after all. so, she knew, whatever it was, lily was not okay. and she had felt a sick sort of satisfaction at that realization— perfect, lovable lily had to rely on pathetic, pitiful petunia, the muggle. it was short-lived, however, because according to dumbledore, lily was murdered in her home. her sister's last living act had practically ensured that in petunia's house, her baby harry would be the safest. and why would lily do that? why was she dead? why would a murderer choose lily of all people to kill? and why was petunia saddled with the one baby she would never want?! this one child would remind her of all her personal failings! something truly shocking must have shown on her face, because for all that she loved vernon, he was not the brightest.  "what is it, pet?" "lily's dead. her husband is, too. everyone close to them is. it's their baby," she said, hardly believing it herself, even as she said it. vernon started to back away from the baby, stopping his cooing immediately. "absolutely not, pet, we are not keeping that freak child! we can adopt elsewhere, but this child ought to be on the streets! i don't want him m— magicking away our cutlery or vanishing our roof!"  petunia looked down at the letter:

you are her only remaining blood. you are his only hope for any lasting protection against those that want him dead. and this is your family's chance of getting the best sort of protection against him there is. keep baby harry potter, ensure he calls your house a home, and there will be no more evans family tragedies at the hands of lord voldemort.

her eyes turned to the baby in her arms. she looked at his pudgy face— his innocent green eyes, and his glee-filled smile, and she knew she couldn't do what her husband was suggesting, even though the sight of this baby made her think of how much better his mum was. she knew she would never be magic. she knew her dudley would never be brought back. but she couldn't let vernon die just because that voldemort thought they would bother to care about lily's family.  she had to take that blasted boy in.

"vernon, we— i can't leave him to the streets! what will the neighbours think? yvonne was staring at me when i brought him in. and this way we don't need to deal with walking into those . . . filthy adoption centres." "i will not be dealing with any sort of unnatural freakishness!" "we'll break the freak out of him. if he is ours, he will not be theirs and we can make sure he grows up good and proper, like— like dudley should've had the chance to." this last point of hers, coupled with the tears any mention of her poor, stillborn, baby boy, was what got vernon to come around. "he— he won't be getting dudley's nursery."