#debbie could carry their kid?

[masonmtxo]

Feels like Summer

Words: 3k

Summary: what started out as a holiday fic turned into girlie getting broody

Notes: please leave feedback, it really means the world and is such a motivator 🩷

•••

You'd never felt more relaxed in your life, the sun beating down on your skin as you laid on the lounger beside the pool, the heat making you sleepy, despite the chaos taking place only a few feet away from you.

A stark contrast from your pure state of bliss, Mason could only describe the fun being had in the pool as absolute bedlam. There were excitable screams from children in all directions, a niece (though he wasn't sure which one) was clinging to his back as she squealed, before her grip loosened and a little pink swimming costume clad body dove onto the unicorn float beside him. Poppy's little face spun to meet him, a huge grin on her face as he playfully grabbed hold of the float she was now sat upon, dragging it through the water behind him as his heart soared at her gleeful screams.

Don't get him wrong, he loved playing football, but the extended period of time he got to spend with his family under the sun during his summer break was his definition of perfection. Nothing could beat the feeling of spending his days being the fun uncle, acting like a big kid with his nieces and nephew, competing with his brother to be their favourite. He was in his element, splashing around the pool and playing games until they were all exhausted, heading inside for a snack and a nap. And in Mason's case, a cuddle and some loving with you. Sometimes you'd get involved in the chaos, his nieces adored you and would beg and beg until you'd jump in with them, sometimes telling Mason it was "girls time" and he wasn't allowed to join in. But for the most part you stayed in the dry, letting Mason and Lewis act as kids entertainers and tire themselves out trying to compete with each other.

You watched from your place beside the pool, eyes covered by sunglasses, exchanging words with Debbie every now and then as she sat on the sun lounger beside you.

You're not sure why you chose to blurt it out so abruptly, but you couldn't help yourself, heart soaring as you watched him interacting with his niece, "he's going to be the best dad."

Debbie took a sharp intake of breath, whipping her head round to look at you and peering over the top of her sunglasses, "are you...?"

Her words drifted off as you quickly stopped her,

"oh no, no, no," you hurried out, not missing the disappointment that washed over her face, "I just can't help but get broody when I see him with kids."

You and Debbie had always been close, she had treated you like her own from the minute you had met and over the years you had formed a close bond. There was something about the way her kind eyes bored into you that always had you opening up to her, something that her son had inherited too.

"He's in his element when he's with them, isn't he?" She smiled softly, her heart clenching as she watched you watching him, overcome with gratitude that her baby had found someone who loved him as much as you did. "He's always been good with kids, even when he was young all the littlens seemed to be drawn to him."

You nodded, taking a sip of your drink before turning to face her, breaking your eyes away from Mason as he began tossing Summer up in the air, "He keeps dropping hints about having a baby. I caught him looking at baby United kits on his phone the other day so I know he's ready."

"So what's stopping you?"

"I dunno, I guess with the move up North and having to re-jig my whole life, I felt quite unsettled for a while and there was no way a baby in the equation would have been practical," you shrugged, unable to avert your gaze from him, not wanting to a miss a second of the sweet display.

Debbie hummed in agreement, sensing you still had more to say.

Sighing, you carried on, "part of me is selfishly happy he didn't play much this season, as bad as it sounds," you were embarrassed to admit it, feeling guilty about the way you felt, but it was the truth, "It meant I had him around a bit more when I was feeling down. Don't get me wrong I'd move anywhere with him if he needed me to, but I don't think I fully comprehended how big of a change it would be for me. I've only just started making friends that aren't other partners of the players, wnd even with them it took me an age before I didnt feel like the new girl."

"Oh sweetheart," she reached across the beds to take hold of your hand, squeezing it in hers, "you know you could have always called, I would have been there in a heartbeat to come and keep you company."

"Mase did keep saying in the beginning that you would be happy to come up and stay for a bit, but I just didn't want to be an inconvenience you know" you paused, taking comfort from her warm hand in yours as you finally opened up about a years worth of turmoil, "he was the one who was getting hammered publically, he was the one who had to start off again at a whole new club. I just wanted him to worry about himself for once, not me."

"He always worries about you, he called me a lot in the first few months as he had a feeling you weren't settled but you were refusing to admit it," Debbie's voice was soft, motherly in a way that made you feel comfortable enough to divulge all your inner thoughts and fears.

"Bless him," you smiled as you turned back to look at him, now teaching the girls how to do star floats on their backs, "I remember one time l'd had a really bad day, a group of the girls who l'd been getting friendly with had met up without me and I was so sensitive, cried about it when I saw them all together on instagram," you laughed, "and he was so sweet, kept asking if I wanted to move back home and he would see if he could commute from London because he could tell I was unhappy."

Debbie laughed, shaking her head with a smile as it was something he had also mentioned to her in one of his panics. She had shut him down instantly, telling him to not be so dramatic and it was just a big adjustment.

"I think he was worried I would break up with him," you spoke softly, admitting something that you hadn't actually vocalised before.

Remembering the way he was on egg shells with you for weeks, doing everything he could to try and make you feel like Manchester was home.

Debbie didn't respond, just gave your hand another squeeze in acknowledgment. She knew it was something he had agonised over, sometimes breaking down into tears as he poured his heart out to his mum over the phone, worried he was making you unhappy by forcing you to leave your life behind for him. Debbie had reassured him repeatedly it wouldn't happen, and she had been right. It was just a bump in the road, and with his recurring injuries and subsequent time off the tearful calls had become less frequent, the extra time you had been allowed to spend together helping you settle into a new normal.

By the time he had gone back to training full time, you'd found your rhythm, making friends through Anouska who had kindly taken you under her wing and introduced you to all the best coffee places and parks to walk Ace in, the puppy Mason had bought to make you feel safer and less lonely when he was away. It had taken time, but you finally saw Manchester as home, loving the city more than you thought you would.

You settled into a comfortable silence for a while before Debbie spoke up again, still holding your hand in hers, "You know when you two were house hunting after moving up there he asked Lewis to find options that were listed as family homes," she smirked, eyebrows raised suggestively as you turned to look at her.

"I knew you'd want to go back to the grandkids topic," you giggled, shaking your head at her lack of subtlety, another trait Mason had taken from her.

"Can you blame me? I'll never say no to more babies in the family," her smile was infectious, making you return her grin.

"We did discuss a bit when we were house hunting. I didn't want to buy something so big to be honest, purely because the amount of cleaning it would need," you groaned, being reminded that you worry had come to fruition, "but he made a good point and said it's going to be the house we have kids in, so may as well buy one that's ready for that step."

"And are you ready for that step?"

"Yeah," you nodded, feeling sure of yourself, "he's been ready for the past few years, it's been me that's always had my foot on the break. But for the last few months the feeling just hasn't gone away, I keep going over to Anouska's just to get my baby fix with Lumie," you laughed, "and every time Stacey hands Honey over for a cuddle I struggle to give her back."

"You better hurry up and tell Mason then," she teased.

"Tell me what?" You both turned to see the man of the hour pulling himself up out of the pool having caught onto the last few words of your conversation.

Releasing her grip on your hand, Debbie shuffled up from her seat, "I'll leave you two to talk."

Watching her go, you would help but roll your eyes affectionately at the little spring in her step as she rushed over to the other side of the pool where Tony was sitting with a beer, clearly excited to fill him in on the prospect that they may soon be getting another grandchild.

Mason was watching you, taking the opportunity to drink in your bikini clad body while you were focused elsewhere, admiring the curves of your body and the glow from the sun on your skin.

"Go on then," he broke the silence, "what have you got to tell me?" His head cocked in question.

"Come here?" You asked, opening your arms to invite him to lay with you, figuring there was no time like the present and if you didn't tell him he would spend the day pestering you until you inevitability broke down to pressure.

"I've just got out of the pool," he warned, glancing down to his wet torso when he noticed you were transfixed on his body, a slight pink dusting over your already flushed cheeks.

"Don't care, want a cuddle," you murmured, smiling as he carefully plopped on top of you, head resting on your chest as his left hand trailed up and down the side of your body. His wet body cooled you instantly from the layer of heat the sun had given you, goosebumps covering your skin from the combined sensations of the cold and his gentle touch.

You sat in silence for a while, gathering your thoughts while enjoying the feeling of having each other close, the last time you had an opportunity to spend time with him had been in bed that morning. You had awoken to day light flooding into the room having forgotten to close them the night before in your desperation to get each other into bed. Your neediness hadn't passed, knowing you had to make the most of your time together before spending the day surrounded by his family. He had fucked into you slowly from behind, whispering how much he loved you into your ear until you were both spent, followed by another quick fumble in the shower before getting ready to meet the others for breakfast.

The kids had stolen him after that, so you made sure to enjoy the moments you had with him during the day, even if they were few and far between sometimes.

“So, you gonna tell me what mum was talking about?” He broke the silence after a while, fingers tracing over your stomach and you couldn't help but smile at the irony.

"I want a baby.”

His head shot up from your chest instantly, wild eyes searching your expression, "Are you serious!?"

"Yeah,” you nodded slowly, “I've been thinking about it for a while, every time I see you with kids I feel like I’m going to explode. But that's only if you're ready too.”

He laughed, the grin on his face probably the biggest you'd ever seen, happiness radiating through his brown eyes, “You know I've always been ready to have kids with you.”

“I know,” you face was apologetic, reaching out to cup his cheek and trace a gentle path across his flushed cheek, “and i'm sorry for making you wait so long, I just felt like bringing a baby into the world when I was feeling a bit all over the place wasn't the best idea.”

“No I get that, it wasn't the right time last year,” he agreed solomley, though a smile was threatening to burst through, “I know we spoke about kids and how we wanted them soon when we moved into the house but I was always happy to wait until you were ready too.”

“I felt ready all along in terms of our relationship, like if it happened accidentally last year I never would've had doubts or felt rushed. I just didn't feel ready to start actively trying you know? Felt like we had a lot going on and the pressure would've got to me I think."

"We don't have to put any pressure on it, even if it takes time," he reassured, "the baby making is the fun bit anyway." His cheeky grin made you giggle, loving the way he always knew exactly what to say to relax you and make you laugh. "And if you have second thoughts and want to wait for a bit before we remove contraception that's fine. We can do everything at your pace.”

You shook your head softly, he was so unbelievably caring you felt your stomach clench with love, "no I don't need anymore time to think," eyes flitting away from him to admire a bird circling the sky above you,

"It's something i've been thinking about for months now. I thought I’d wait and see, to see if the feeling went away once summer started and you were home all the time and I wasn't so lonely. But if anything it has got worse, I've never been so broody in my life.”

"Yeah?" His voice was soft, his eyes a little bit watery as he struggled to contain the love he felt for you in that moment.

"Yeah," you confirmed, mirroring his expression.

He rested his head back on your chest, trying to steady his breathing as his heart hammered in his chest. You were finally saying everything he had been waiting to hear for the past year, excitement pulsing through his entire body at the prospect of getting to become a parent with you.

"I want two, maybe 3 kids I think,” you murmured.

"Oh at least 3 for sure, the more you let me have the better," he grinned teasingly, his chin resting on the valley between your chest so he could look up at you adoringly.

"You're gonna be the best daddy in the world," you hummed, stroking the back of his head through his wet locks.

"And you’ll be the best mum,” he whispered, pressing a series of kisses to your chest, trailing his lips up until he reached your neck, “wanna go practice making a baby?"

"Mason, I just spoke to your mum about wanting a child, I'm not disappearing off with you, she will know exactly what we're doing," you groaned, gently grasping his face and pushing him out from the crook of your neck in an attempt to stop him getting carried away.

Mason barked out a laugh, "Babe, mum knows if she wants another grandchild we're gonna have to be having lots of sex, probably even more than usual," he wiggled his eyebrows at you suggestively, trying to charm you into letting him have his way with you but you were holding firm.

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean hiding away to have a shag while on a family holiday, when all your nieces and nephews are here as well."

"You let me fuck you last night," he grumbled, "and this morning."

"Yes, while everyone was in bed Mason," you chastised.

"Baby they aren't stupid, they know we don't go in our room at night and play scrabble til we fall asleep," his voice was teasing, letting you know he was only playing around with you.

"That's beside the point, Mase. If we disappear now you may as well stand up and make an announcement across the villa we're going for a quick fuck."

"I mean I wouldn't be opposed to doing that," he shrugged, playfully biting at the palm of your hand that was still cupped around his face, "at least we wouldn't be disturbed."

"You're an idiot," you couldn't help but laugh at him, flicking him on the shoulder in jest.

"But you love me and you wanna make loads of babies with me," his smirk was full of teasing, dipping his head to bite gently down on the swell of your breast knowing it would wind you up further.

"Mason, do you remember you said I could decide otherwise at any point?" You asked pointedly.

He nodded, his smile not dropping.

"Don't test me," you countered.

With another sharp laugh, he pulled you in for a kiss, cupping your face in his large hand, his lips sweet and soft against yours before pulling away, "fine, I'll wait until tonight then."

🩷✨☁️

Thank you for reading! Please leave some feedback if you can, it means a lot and motivates me to keep posting!

[andreafmn]

12 Days of Ficmas ❅ Day 4

Word Count: 1.6K Paring:  Lip Gallagher x Fem!Reader Prompt @a-cure-for-writers-block:  mothering their S/Os younger siblings and making sure they're getting enough to eat

Summary:  Lip Gallagher has had a hell of a year, and most of the time he doesn't think he deserve the mercy he's been shown. But (Y/N) will stop at nothing to make sure he and his family know they are taken care of. And he knows it.

A/N: a bit late, but still published. Also, this is very short and sweet and does not follow the canon after season 5. Kind of went off path to give Lip a bit of a quicker redemption. Hope y'all enjoy!

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“Yo, Lip,” Ian’s sleepy voice rang through his brother’s phone. “Uh, your girlfriend is over here, and I think she’s gone crazy.” 

“What you mean?” Lip chuckled as he rubbed his hands together to warm them up. “‘Cause that’s a lot coming from you.” 

“Very funny,” he laughed sarcastically. “No, but she made Christmas puke on the house, and she’s been cooking nonstop since this morning. She hounded us all morning until we ate breakfast and wouldn’t stop until we sat down at the table.” ” 

Lip couldn’t help the smile that crept onto his face as he pictured his girlfriend with her face dirtied by food, her hair tied back and away from her face, and her voice carrying around the house as she made sure everyone had eaten. It was one of the things he loved about her and one of the reasons he was glad she had come into his life. “Look, I’ll be home soon,” he chuckled. “Can you just make sure she actually eats? I know she’s gonna forget.” 

“Fine,” Ian groaned. “Just hurry up.” 

(Y/N) had come into Lip’s life at a moment when he was sure his life would have gone down the rails. She has become his sense of normalcy in his less-than-normal life. He had needed something to ground him back to earth, and that was exactly what she had done. After being so close to rock bottom he could taste the soil on the ground, she had been the only one that had been able to bring him back to his feet.  

As he got off the L, he wondered what she could have ever seen in him. She was smart and beautiful and a complete juxtaposition to the man he was. She was sunshine where he was rain, she was happiness where he was gloom, she was future while he was stuck in the past. And she was everything he never thought he needed. 

The moment he reached the house, he could hear the chatter from his family and the smell of (Y/N)’s cooking. Inside, Liam, Carl, and Ian were hypnotized by the TV while (Y/N) and Debbie talked away in the kitchen. 

Ian had not lied. The Gallagher house had been decorated like it had never been before. From garlands to stockings above the fireplace, to a massive Christmas tree in front of the stairs, it was a scene that had never lived inside that house. “Yo, you weren’t kidding, huh?” Lip chuckled as he shook off his jacket. “Didn’t think we’d ever have these many decorations.” 

“And presents,” Carl grinned. “Check under the tree.” 

Just like his younger brother had pointed, under the pine rested a couple of boxes wrapped in kraft paper. Each of them had every one of the Gallagher’s names written on them and a glittering red bow around them. It truly was more than Lip could have ever expected.  

“Ian, did she eat something?” 

“Yeah,” he said. “She’s also been pecking at everything she’s doing.”

“Alright, thanks.”

Taking the scenery in, Lip walked into the kitchen to find (Y/N) wearing a dirty apron and plates balanced on her arms. 

“You’re home,” she smiled, kissing his cheek as she walked past him to give the three boys each a plate. “Good. There’s a plate for you in the microwave. I made some turkey sandwiches for lunch. Light enough to not fill you guys up for dinner but strong enough to tide you over until then.” 

“Thanks, (Y/N),” the boys chorused before digging into their sandwiches and focusing back on the TV. 

“This is so good, (Y/N),” Debbie exclaimed from the breakfast table. “I don’t know how you’re not studying to be a chef.” 

“I cook for fun, not for work,” the young woman smiled. “That’s what engineering school is for.” 

“I’m just saying,” she shrugged. “If the genius stuff doesn’t work out, you could definitely be a chef.” 

“Thank you, Debs,” (Y/N) responded. “And speaking of school, how was your last final, babe? I know this semester has been a bit hard.”

Understatement of the century, Lip had thought. He couldn’t understand how he had not been expelled after everything he had done the year before. He had been so close to losing it all. Had it not been for (Y/N) stopping him before he smashed Youens car and speaking up on his behalf at the disciplinary meeting, he was sure he would have gotten a worse punishment than a semester suspension. She had been the saving grace he didn’t know he needed, and she was the reason he understood he needed help. 

Lip had inherited more than a hard life from his parents, he’d fallen victim to their addictive genetics and gone off the deep end with a bottle of liquor in hand. But somehow, she had been there to pull him up while he was down and walk beside him as he got back onto the right path. She stayed with him as he rebuilt himself into the man people believed he was. 

“I think it went pretty well,” he said before taking a bite of his sandwich. “Won’t know until after the break, but if midterms were anything to go by, I did good.” 

“That’s good. I’m pretty sure you did very well,” she smiled as she sat beside him, placing a hand on his and a coffee cup in front of his plate. “And I know you’re tired, but I’m gonna need you to help me prep the table for dinner tonight. Kev, V, and the girls are coming over. Fiona can’t make it, but she’ll try for actual Christmas Day or New Year's.” 

“You’ve got everything planned out already, don’t you?” Lip chuckled. “Not that I am surprised in any way, shape or form.” 

“I would have told you earlier, but I wanted you to focus on your exams,” she said before turning to the boys in the living room. “Hey, guys! Remember to wash your dishes when you’re done! I’m gonna need them for tonight.” 

“Yes, (Y/N),” they chorused back. 

“You got them very well trained,” Debbie laughed. “Where have you been all our lives?” 

“Just on the other side of town,” the girl smiled. “Now hurry and finish eating. We’ve got work to do.” 

After everyone finished their lunch and the how was suddenly dispersed of children, (Y/N) and Lip set off to work. While she waltzed around the kitchen, he rearranged the formal dining area to fit all the guests. As he walked around the house, the young man wanted to laugh. He remembered a time when that type of domesticity would have sent him running, searching for the easiest way to drown his fears of commitment and stability. But there he was, setting tables for a dinner party that his girlfriend had cooked, and he didn’t feel the jittery need to escape. He didn’t feel the anxious desire to feel alcohol burn its way down his throat and fill him with a mirage of confidence. He wanted to stay. 

“Hey,” he whispered after he had finished his task, snaking his arms around her waist and kissing her cheeks. “Thanks for doing this.” 

“Of course,” she smiled, leaning into the comfort and warmth of his touch. “Do you think there’s enough food I don’t know if I should set out some snacks for the kids while the turkey is finished. Maybe dinner is too late for Jemma and Amy. I should set some snacks out.” 

“(Y/N), baby,” he chuckled. Lip flipped her around, kissing her lips softly to stop her rambling. “There’s enough food, and they should be starving by dinner. You worked hard enough on all these dishes, they need to be eaten.” 

“And they will, but…” 

“You really enjoy mommying them, don’t you?” Lip grinned lovingly. “You know they’re not kids anymore –other than Liam. The other ones are all teenagers, they know how to get food when they’re hungry.” 

“I know that. But I just wanna make sure they know there’s someone here that cares about them other than you now that Fiona’s gone,” she admitted, her eyes falling onto the hands she pressed to his chest. “And I want them to like me, Lip. I’m in it for the long run, babe.” 

“If there’s one thing I can assure you, it’s that the Gallagher family loves you,” he smiled. His hand caressed her cheek softly, and it surprised him that only a year before, his knuckles would have been ripped and bloodied. But not with her. Never with her. “And if you keep cooking like this for them, they’ll make sure you’re here forever.” 

“And what about you? Would you want me to stay forever?” 

Lip couldn’t help the smile that spread across his mouth. As he stared into her eyes, it took everything inside him not to spoil the plans he had for Christmas morning. He wanted to give her all the reassurance she could need with the ring he had hidden deep in his underwear drawer. But when he had a plan, it was hard to divert from it. “How could I want anything else?” he grinned. “Now, why don’t we finish up here so we can have a little treat before dinner ourselves?” 

“Philip Gallagher,” she exclaimed at his advance, slapping his chest playfully. “I have too much work to do to be thinking about that.” 

“Come on, I’ve only been thinking about this all day,” he groaned. “It’s the only thing that got me through that test.” 

“Then you can wait a bit more,” she laughed. “I promise I’ll make it worth your while, baby. All good things come to those who wait.” 

And, at that moment, she had no idea how much truth there was in that statement. 

Next ->

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[ideasarestuckinmyhead]

Grocery store love.

I am so sorry for this. Yes, it's a Derek fic....Imagine he like stayed in jail or whatever the fuck and got out decided that crime life sucked.

Edit: noticed some shit misspelled but to be fair I literally sped ran this fanfic-

It's been a few years after that night, where he got sliced up. The scar sometimes acts up when he thinks back to it, but Derek shakes it off. Getting ready to go to work at the grocery store he somehow got hired at.

The old couple that owned the place needed a guy with muscle. Also able to reel in the younger hires that wouldn't fucking listen to them. Luckily them seeing Derek give the hires a look and how easily he took control got him the job.

And here he is now, arguing with a random mom on a Wednesday afternoon. Why you might ask? The dipshit kid of her's knocked over the fucking display of oranges. Now their scattered and Derek getting fed up is really close to just kicking her out.

"Look, lady, your kid has been running around causing trouble just make him an apology and actually keep him near you." Gritting out with a smile, the long haired man cursed in his head seeing the mom give him a death glare. Jesus fuck the urge to just punch her is becoming more unbearable NOT to do.

"You will NOT TELL ME HOW TO TAKE CARE OF M-" The lady's screeching was cut off by another shopper. Who stepped between her and Derek, looking down he saw them pointing a finger at her.

"Aright bitch, listen up because it seems your fuckin deaf! Your lil' hell spawn if giving everyone a hard fucking time. All this kind man told ya to do was apologize because ya can't control your crotch demon!" The person in front of the black abused man ranted. The lady could only gasp as they insulted her kid. But they didn't let up, turning to Derek with a kind smile.

"I'm so sorry you have to deal with this on such a nice day. Honestly if she has ANY decently she'll leave because everyone hates her." Whispering loudly, the person smirked hearing the lady huff in anger. The little boy was arguing while his mother shushed him and dragged him out.

The people watched all gave a relief look before going back to shopping. Derek looked down and saw the person start picking up oranges. Blinking he went to them and began using his apron to carry most up.

"Uh, thanks. For tellin' that lady off and um, helping me with this." It was weird thanking people still. But Derek learned quickly after getting this job. The person holding oranges beside him snorted and waved him off.

"It's fine. That crazy lady couldn't get her head out her ass to watch her kid. At least I hope she will now before her kid turns into a thug." Chuckling, the person started putting the oranges they picked up back into the display. Derek slightly paused at the word thug, huh it's been a while since he heard that word.

Shaking it off he stood by the person and continued putting the oranges back. Debbie, one of the newer hires rushed by and asked if she needed to help. Derek shooed her off and told her to go to the cash register since he's doing this now.

While talking he saw the person looking at him in the corner of his eye. Turning he saw how, they were actually kinda cute. At least when their not spitting fire with their words at people who deserved it.

"If ya don't mind. What's your name? I could give you a discount for helping me with that mess and with the lady." Suggesting Derek gave them a soft smile. The person nodded and cleared their throat giving him the same smile.

"I'm (Y/N). Nice to meet you..." (Y/N)'s voice got lower as they realized they didn't know his name. Chuckling Derek introduced himself, the shorter person nodded and mumbled his name.

It sounded nice when they said it, Derek then heard a old voice calling him. Ah, it seems William got word of what happened that old man was on break when it happened.

"If you wait here I can get the owner to give you a discount. Just uh get me a second spit fire." Mumbling Derek then walked to his boss. Began ingredients to explain what happened to the orange display the old man worked so hard in making.

(Y/N) stood there processing on what they were just called. Spit fire, well, they were really firey with that lady they have a tendency to do that. But that Derek was kinda hot, they couldn't help but wonder what type of discount they'd get.

After the long haired man finish explaining what happened his boss did give (Y/N) a discount. They thanked him and Derek even personally checked them out at his register. The tall man then gave them a charming smile wishing them a good day and come back soon.

Walking out, both wondered if the other felt the spark that happened between them. (Y/N) with seeing that charming smile and Derek seeing their firey words. Who knows maybe there's going to be a grocery store love soon?

[nukanobody]

Funny Familiarity

For context: I posted a head-canon a few days ago, on how Danse actually ended up in the brotherhood of steel as a synth despite not being sent as a spy but instead is listed as "missing". It's probable he ran away from the institute where the railroad helped him escape, with Deacon knowing about the case.

I'm so obsessed with this idea now so read below for any thoughts or further hc's i had when making this. Or ask me anything about this hc i am going cray cray. sorry if this is ooc i'm bad at characters.

ty to @ericadrawsstuff for your addon btw!! it fueled me to draw this haha

For Danse, I don't believe he was a courser but maybe a failed experimental synth/synth meant for manual labor? The institute would probably be in a panic if a courser with a courser chip went awol, they'd probably take notice if the same missing courser became the poster boy of the people whose trying to destroy them.

Danse stayed in the railroad for a bit, like maybe 5 months? Formed a somewhat close bond with Deacon who was "Debbie" at the time.

Deacon loves collecting sunglasses, was toying with the idea of being a woman when he found novelty heart sunglasses. I see him as identifying as male but really flexible when it comes to presenting himself.

Obsessed with the idea that despite being reset/memories wiped synths may carry flaws or mannerisms. In Danse's case his fierce loyalty and self sacrifice are his major flaws, pre-wipe he didn't want to be a danger to the railroad and felt he needed to be wiped, post-blind betrayal he felt like he was a danger to the brotherhood and needed to be killed.

Deacon's a good liar sometimes, but in the cases where Danse says something against synths his hands clench and has to lean on a wall to catch his breath while the sides of him fight in his head. The first side is the railroad agent who has huge empathy for M7-97 and knows that if his identity is revealed it'll absolutely ruin him and get maimed by the brotherhood, the other side of him is absolutely disgusted by Danse and wants to put him in his place, the 3rd just thinks it'll be funny.

I depicted Nora as how I'd imagine she'd be. A woman from a pre-war era being dropped in a wasteland, it's kind of a culture shock for her and she has a savior complex, she assumes that everyone just needs to sit down and talk. Her main goal is to somehow "unite" the commonwealth, she's joined all the factions and some of her companions are kind of peeved about it. In the comic she introduced Deacon to Danse thinking they could have a civil conversation where Deacon could steer him to a better mindset (she sees Danse as a kid who got into the wrong crowd, despite being a fully grown man)

okay jesus, this took like 3 days of non stop drawing for me to do. Whoever designed power Armour i pray for your downfall what the hell. Sorry if it looks bad i study software so I haven't gotten the chance to draw in like, 7 months. Can you tell which pose I was able to find refs for and not the rest? lol

I ship them now too, i've been researching them and I love their dynamic and damn if the plot "Person A knew Person B before Person B forgot them and became a different person" doesn't hit like a ton of bricks.

[ange1sang]

sweetface, angelface

2.2k words

; canon compliant/post season 11, domestic fluff, sibling love, gallavich, fiona and ian + fiona and mickey, past regrets, mild hurt/comfort but mostly just sweet

Ian and Mickey's West Side apartment is silent when Fiona lets herself in with the spare key she borrowed from Lip. The quiet is thick in a way that it never was back in the Gallagher house - quiet always meant something terrible had happened, and rarely lasted more than a minute or two in their neighbourhood - and Fiona has to pause to take it in with a deep breath.

Lip had warned her that her visit was poorly timed. Ian had been climbing up the mental steps towards another high which had resulted in a quick and easy adjustment of his medication, and while Ian was resilient and experienced after so many years of learning the ins and outs of being bipolar, it had still left him sleepy and distant as his brain got used to the change in chemicals. He'd been off work for half a week - a long time for someone finding their footing in the real world - and Mickey had taken the past couple of days off to take care of his husband, something that had taken Fiona back to Ian's first depressive episode as soon as Lip had told her. Mickey's determination to take care of Ian, his hardheaded love for her little brother, and the fear in his eyes as he rambled about the sudden shift in Ian's behaviour.

She'd been less than supportive back then, knowing that Ian needed real treatment more than he needed love in that moment, but hearing now how Mickey's determination has persisted for years longer than they'd ever expected had made her heart ache.

Ian had always been her baby. Since that first night Frank left her and her only siblings at the time out on the street and she'd carried a feverish Ian and teary Lip to the clinic he'd been her baby. Lip was the second oldest, a role that came with signifcantly less responsibility but still enough of it for him to be her rock through those first few years of playing house all by herself. But for the years before Debbie was born Ian had been the youngest, the one who needed the most care, and even after their other siblings were born and Ian became Lip's best friend instead of just his little brother, the need to take care of him had lingered for Fiona.

It didn't help that Ian was so sweet and kind, always wearing his heart on his sleeve in a way that Fiona and Lip never did. He was vulnerable, and even when he kept his aches and pains to himself it was obvious when he was hurt. She wanted, always had wanted, to shelter him from as much as she could, even when she had too much on her plate to know his whereabouts or the names of kids bothering him at school.

Despite the desire to keep him safe, Fiona knew that he had slipped through the cracks more often than his siblings had. Maybe it was the sweet smile he gave her when she asked if he was alright, maybe it was the resilience that shone through when he started navigating his sexuality by himself, maybe it was his dreams of the army and the tough guy exterior he put on whenever he talked about West Point. Whatever the reason, he'd been left behind when she fussed over Lip being in school, when Debbie got pregnant, when Carl came back from juvie. He was the apple of her eye, but he was so meek sometimes that it was easy to focus on the rest of the kids and what they needed from her.

She knows now that she could've done more. That she should've been glad Ian was with Mickey instead of some guy who was old enough to be his father, who there'd been far too many of without any of them stopping to question what the hell those men were doing with their brother. She should have fought to bring him home when he ran off to the army the same way she fought to bring Lip home after he dropped out, and she should've done more than turn a blind eye when he started working at clubs and came home skinny, high out of his mind with eyeliner still smeared around his lashline. She should've carried him to safety, the same way she did that night when it was just the three of them alone in the world for the first time. There was no way she could have done a perfect job at raising all five of the kids - she knows that too - but her heart aches when she thinks of the times Ian slipped through all of their fingers without a safety net to catch him.

She owes Ian, forever her little brother and the only sibling she calls 'sweetface', for not trying to understand him better. For not trying harder to love the only boyfriend who had been there through the first highs and lows without ever turning his back on him. Ian did okay even without those things, she can see as much as she looks around the little apartment. The family photos in frames on the TV stand, the taupe couch with only one stain, the coffeetable with a half-full ashtray she recognises from their old home. He did okay because, despite being a softer kid than any of them had the courage to be, he was strong. She smiles when she spots a wedding picture hung above the TV, Ian and Mickey holding each other's faces like the rest of the world had fallen away at that moment. She wishes she'd been there, will likely wish as much for the rest of her life, but she's here now and has to hope that's enough.

The clattering of dishes pulls her out of her thoughts. She can hear coffee being put to brew, the soft shuffle of socked feet coming from the kitchen. She blinks back the dull ache in her chest and makes her way to the source of the noise, smiling when she sees Mickey leaning against the counter, an unlit cigarette between his lips as he puts two Pop-Tarts in the toaster. He startles at her presence but smiles as soon as he sees her.

"Hey Fi," he greets, setting aside his cigarette and allowing her to hug him hello without a struggle, which is a win for Fiona even if he doesn't really return the touch. He's softer in their new environment she realises, more relaxed than he ever was when he was in the same neighbourhood as his family. She pulls back and gives his arm a squeeze, smiling warmly at the sight of the wedding ring on his finger.

"Hi angelface," she says. Mickey immediately turns to the doorway, looking for something before he freezes and turns his attention back to Fiona, brows drawn tight together as he looks her up and down.

"Thought you were talking to Ian," he mumbles, pulling away from her touch as though to get a better look at her. "Where the fuck did that come from?"

Fiona can't help but laugh, shrugging off her jacket and draping it over the back of one of the chairs at their kitchen table.

"Ian's always been sweetface," she says, watching how Mickey's expression softens as she says that. "I was thinkin' the whole way over that you ought to have a nickname too."

"Y'know, I was doin' fine without one," Mickey grumbles, but the furrow between his brows has disappeared, a half-amused smirk on his lips.

"Count yourself lucky you didn't get one the day he started lookin' at you like you hung the moon and fucking stars," she jokes, which makes him snicker. She thinks back to the days Ian and Mickey were just teenagers wrapped around each other's little fingers, smiling little smiles that they only shared with each other and falling asleep side by side in whatever cramped space was available to them, be it Ian's childhood bed or the worn and torn Gallagher couch. Mickey had been the farthest thing from an angel at the time and he's still pretty far off, but if she could go back she'd have started calling him angelface the second he proved he was in it for the long haul. She takes a deep breath and perches on the edge of the table. "How's he been?"

"Good," Mickey says quickly, not dismissively but confidently, his blue eyes fond as he glances towards the doorway again. "Sleepin' a lot but he's eating and keeping up a routine and all that shit. He"– Mickey hesitates here, eyes darting back and forth between Fiona's face and the floor as a flush climbs his cheeks. –"works real fuckin' hard, y'know? He doesn't want anyone to worry, not like when we were kids. He knows his shit and he fuckin'... He works hard."

Fiona smiles. She does know. Ian's never been half-hearted in anything he cares about, and hearing that he cares about taking care of himself soothes some of the worry that's always going to nag at her, wondering if he's got his head above water.

"Helps that he's got you," she says, giving Mickey some of the long overdue credit she never let him have before. Mickey rolls his eyes and his fingers twitch like he's going to flip her off but ultimately he just pulls out three mugs to pour coffee into. She smiles, recalling how he was with Mandy, bickering and cussing back and forth but always reserving a special kind of sweetness for each other that they didn't share with anyone else in their family. Fiona knows better than anyone that siblings can't be replaced, but him offering her a little of the friendliness he used to reserve for his little sister makes her happy.

"Fi."

Ian's voice, slow and rough with sleep, breaks the comfortable silence in the kitchen. Fiona jumps up and launches herself at her little brother in a tight hug, smiling into his shoulder when he wraps his arms around her.

"I didn't know you were coming over," he mumbles, tucking his face down into her shoulder the same way he used to do back when they were the same height. He has to bend his neck down to do it now, making himself smaller as she brings a hand up to run her fingers through his curls.

"Lip called after you went to sleep, didn't wanna wake you," Mickey explains, voice soft.

Fiona grins as she pulls away from him, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

"Hey, sweetface," she murmurs, pinching his cheek and pulling a whine from Ian. "Forgot how tall you are."

"You were gone for too long," he replies, but there's no hard feelings in his voice. She still thinks about the day she left, visiting him in prison and squeezing his hands tight so she wouldn't forget the warmth of his palms once she let go. His smile, supportive and sad and excited all at once had reflected all of her own feelings and tied her stomach in knots but also grounded her, reminding her that her family would always be here for her to come home to. She kisses his cheek again even though this too makes him whine before finally letting him go.

"Now that you got your own place I'll visit more often," she reassures him. Through the bleary, sleepy expression on his face Ian smiles.

"You better," he jokes, before stepping over to kiss Mickey's cheek. She watches them exchange gentle 'good morning's, Mickey's hand trailing up and down Ian's spine in a way that's so casual, so clearly the norm for them, that she has to look away before she gets teary-eyed.

They sit around the kitchen table, coffee mugs and Pop-Tarts and pills and cigarettes all carefully laid out in front of them. Seeing them go about their lives with her there, mumbling about bills and what they dreamt last night and whether or not the movie they've been wanting to watch will be easy to pirate, is the best gift she's ever received. Lip has his own family, Carl has a great job, Debbie is a better mother than Monica ever dreamed of being, Liam is cleverer than any of them and Ian is doing well. Better than well, even after everything he's been through, after being let down in ways Fiona will never be able to forget. They all did good with what they were given, but it's Ian's life - cozy and safe and domestic - that makes her happiest.

"You're never gonna guess what she fuckin' called me, man," Mickey says suddenly, drawing Fiona's attention back to the present. Ian raises an eyebrow and turns his attention to his big sister, already smiling before she says anything.

"You're sweetface, only makes sense if he's angelface," she defends the sappy nickname, giggling when Ian laughs out loud. Mickey is only slightly less amused, blushing when Ian reaches out to hold his hand.

"Makes sense to me, Mick," he says, which has his husband rolling his eyes.

"Course you'd side with her, fuckin' payback for me siding with Debbie one time, huh?" he mutters, which brings forth another round of teasing from Ian. Fiona listens to them and makes a mental note to ask about Mickey and Debbie later. For now she just steeps in the peace of their apartment, of the life they've carved out for themselves, and breathes a sigh of relief.

[theitgirlnetwork]

Hi! I love your writing soo much! Especially your" Better" series. Do you think you could write something where Lip is a single, teen dad who has a daughter? I really want to see him as a girl dad!

Hii!!! Thank you so much! I'm glad you're enjoying! I appreciate this so much. He is very girl dad coded to me so I love this. I also think being a dad, particularly a teen one would bring out some complex feelings in Lip. Also there's a bonus at the end that people who don't like Charlotte (the OC from Better) should skip. It's short and sweet, but let me know if you guys want more from Phoebe Gallagher.

warning: strong language

“I’m fucked.”

That was the first thing Lip said to his little brother Ian, blowing smoke into the air of their shared bedroom when he got home from seeing his…girlfriend…bestfriend…? Babymama. 

When Karen had invited him over to her house earlier that day, he’d assumed he was gonna get to fuck. Or at least get some head. He’d had a long day in the two classes he’d attended, a blowie was exactly what he’d needed. And to her credit, that’s what he’d gotten. Except immediately after she spit into one of her mother’s doilies and got off of her knees she unenthusiastically announced to him, ‘I’m pregnant.’ And then she started flipping through a magazine. 

Lip sat on the edge of her bed for a solid twenty minutes just opening and closing his mouth. Finally swallowing down the lump that immediately formed in his throat and fixed his wide blue eyes on her.  “You…gonna keep it?”

It’s fair. That Karen kicked him out. He understood. 

But shit. He was just a kid. He wasn’t ready to be a fucking dad, he’d been carrying around the same $30 for the past week in an attempt to replenish he and Ian’s weed supply. Fiona was gonna fucking kill him. He was gonna fucking kill himself.

Lip dragged himself home from Karen’s, ran upstairs, ignoring the calls from Debbie to help her with her homework and slammed the door. Ian had made his way in a lit a blunt for them to share, pushing open their rickety window, sitting with him in silence until the dam finally burst and Lip started confessing. 

“Yeah, you are.” Ian blows a cloud of smoke from his nostrils, snorting as Lip kicks his leg with his own. “I don’t know why you’re so worried man, there’s no way Karen’ll keep it. Even if she does, any person with a dick within a 40 mile radius could be the dad.” 

“Fuck you.”

“You’re gonna have to clean up that language when the baby gets here.” 

After Lip climbed over the bed and kicked Ian’s ass, he rolled back into his, gritting his teeth to himself. He was at an impasse. He couldn’t believe he’d fucked up like this. Sure he’d hit raw a couple of times, but he’d thought they were good. He mostly pulls out. And Isn’t Karen supposed to handle that? And he’s not a fucking idiot. He knows Karen is a hoe. But the intimacy he’d had with her, he can’t believe she shares with everyone else. They’re best friends, and they love each other. There’s no way she’d let him believe the baby was his if it wasn’t.

So he’s having a baby. So what? Lip is living in a modern era. There are…options. Before the baby is born and after. If Karen keeps it, they can put it up for adoption. They could give it to a family who really wants it, who will take care of it. They could give it a good home, away from it’s shitty parents. It wouldn’t get stuck being a Gallagher with an addict and bum for a father. His baby…the baby…it could be loved and cared for. And Lip could go about his business. He could live up to his potential, without any baggage holding him back. 

He’d really believed that to be true, too. He thought he’d be able to see that baby one good time, and pass them off without any regret, content to know that any responsibility he had for it had dissipated. 

But then he saw her. 

Lip was standing there, in oversized scrubs, and clutching Karen’s hand when he first heard her take her first breath. She’d let out a wail so loud and Lip felt his heart ache at the sound. He hadn’t even noticed that he’d let go of Karen’s hand. His feet moved without his permission, guiding him over to the sinks where the nurses were washing her off. He trailed after her to get a good glimpse, and when he did, the world changed. 

Large blue eyes. Little wisps of hair. Her cries slow to small hiccups. 

Lip was in love. 

The older nurse rocks the newly swaddled baby slowly, smiling brightly as she makes her way back to where Karen lies in the bed. “Well, Mom, your beautiful baby girl has arrived. Let me let you hold her-”

“No.” Karen cut in sharply, her tone startles Lip and all off the nurses. The teen girl grips the railing of the bed, grunting as she scoots up, looking at everyone but the little angel squirming in the nurse’s arms. “I…don’t wanna hold her. I don’t want to see her. Give her to the agency lady.” 

“But-” the nurse stammers, looking between her and Lip.

“Honey,” the doctor lowers her mask, bending to make herself level with Karen. “You can change your mind. You can still decide that you’d like to keep your baby.”

“She’s not my baby.” Karen breathes, screwing her face up in determination. 

Lip doesn’t understand. He can’t understand. How could she be here, in the room, with that baby…hell, carry her for 9 months, and choose not to even look at her. Even hold her. He could respect not wanting to be a mom yet, not being ready. But right now, the way Karen was acting, she’s never reminded him of his own parents more. 

That little girl deserves better. She deserves love. She deserves someone who would love her more than anything.

“Um, excuse me,” He hears himself say. His hands extend toward the nurse as everything else in the room becomes blurry except the new little human that was half of him but just that fast, all his. “I’d…um…I’d like to hold her.”

“Phoebe, baby, it’s good. Watch, Daddy likes it.” 

Lip brings the pink rubber spoon to his mouth, spooning a small scoop of his daughter’s turkey puree baby food into his mouth. As soon as the taste hits his tongue he gags, dropping the spoon to the table and shooting up. “Motherfucker!”

Phoebe squeals, giggling as her father darts over to the sink, sticking his head under the faucet and attempts to flush out the foul taste. 

“That shit is fucking nasty, Daddy’s sorry he tried to give you that.” He coughs, lifting the girl out of her highchair and into his arms. The blond buries his face into his daughter’s chubby cheeks, nosing her golden curls out of the way before kissing her cheek repeatedly. 

“Are you still here?” Fiona asks, tilting her head and crossing her arms in disapproval as she watches their display. She’d been surprised when her brother had stopped his ex-girlfriend from putting their baby up for adoption last year. He’d been determined, filling out the necessary paperwork for full custody before completely ex-communicating Karen. He'd not asked Fiona about moving the newborn into their home when he asserted he’d be raising her himself. He was undeterred by her declaration that he’d be on his own, and the baby would not at all be her responsibility. He’d simply adjusted the baby carrier on his hip, flipping her off before carrying the little girl up to his room. 

His academic excellence was the only thing that encouraged teachers to be understanding about his almost constant absences. “I, uh, I gotta skip today, Phoebe has a doctor’s appointment.” He says, smoothing a hand over his daughter’s cherub cheeks, brushing away remains of the baby cheese puffs he gave her while he’d gotten her food out. 

“This is the third time this week.” Fiona sighs, crossing her arms. “Lip-”

“It’s fine, fuck it, it doesn’t matter.”

“It’s your senior year. There’s limits on how many days you can miss before they stop you from graduating.” Fiona nods to herself, mumbling an ‘okay’ under her breath. “I can watch her today. I don’t work until tonight, alright, I’ll take the baby, you go to school, we’ll figure out a schedule later.”

Lip wants to accept. He does. He’s done a year of being a father without accepting any help, mainly because no one was fuckin’ offering, but also because no one would take care of his baby quite like he would. He stops by the school and picks up his work. Hell, some days, he brings her with him, the ghetto ass district he lives in isn’t exactly strict, how could they tell their most promising student he couldn’t bring his very well behaved baby with him.  He glances down at the baby girl in his arms and feels his heart grow with the innocent little smile he receives back. 

And the thought of leaving her feels unappealing as ever. 

“Nah, I got it, thanks though.”

Something about Lip being a dad shocked the whole neighborhood. No one was surprised that he’d knocked someone up, it was only a matter of time the way he was going. And only a few had raised a brow at the fact that he’d promptly told Karen to fuck off and kept the baby to raise himself. With how he grew up, anyone could guess he’d have a thing about abandonment. No, what shocked them was the way that suddenly, Lip Gallagher was some kind of family man. 

No parties. No weed. No dealing. 

No hookups.

Lip got hit on way more than he did back before Phoebe took over his life. When he was at the store or in the park, his baby cooed broken words as he carried her on his shoulders, pointing at small trinkets that she whined for. Easily pocketable things that occasionally magically appeared in his pocket to give her when they got home. Girls would come up to them, fingers in their hair, chests as pushed forward as they squawk about how adorable Phoebe is, how sweet it is that Lip is actually taking the time to raise his own daughter, and how they’d like to help him in any way they can. 

Usually, he would just leave it at no thank you before turning away. The more persistent ones would get a curl of the lip and head shake before adjusting his baby and pushing past. 

See, Lip was fucking strict as a dad. He didn’t give a fuck what other people thought about him and the life he lived before, everything changed when Phoebe showed up. 

“Hey, I uh, really don’t give a fuck what you do, but keep that hoe shit to a minimum when you’re over here, okay? My fuckin’ daughter can see you.” 

More than a few neighborhood girls had stormed their way out of the Gallagher house with hot, fat tears of embarrassment streaming down their face as they declared they’d never talk to Debbie again. Because…you know… her brother’s an asshole.

By the time Lip is 17 and Phoebe is 2 it’s a well known fact that the Gallagher Princess is spoiled rotten. She’s clingy, and whiny, traits that the blond teen had never been known to tolerate but suddenly had all of the patience in the world for. She barely could stand to be held by anyone else, constantly in her father’s arms or wrapped around one of his legs, holding on as he walks for them both.  The only people he really let's watch Phoebe are Ian and Mickey. For some reason, Mickey seemed to have a soft spot for Phoebe. Maybe it was because they understood each other. They're both cute, and bratty, and bite. It was ironic considering who Mickey is, and his distain for Lip but when the blond teen had been overwhelmed one day and passed out on the couch with his books after school, his brother's boyfriend had been the one who stepped up. He'd been in the Gallagher home in search of some cheap weed Ian had promised him, but he saw the little girl whining and after a failed attempt wake Lip, made her a bottle his damn self. When Lip had woken, he found Mickey rocking the squirming little girl in his arms, trying to pretend he wasn't enamored with her. After that day, Mickey proclaimed himself the girl's favorite uncle, and got damn near violent if anyone even tried to so much as give her a tap on the wrist. Lip appreciated it considering he felt the same.

Other parents fucking dread when they see the father-daughter duo making their way to the park because it immediately means that play was over for all of the other kids.

Timmy Keeves had learned the hard way. The little boy was all but 5 when he first encountered the terror that was Phoebe Gallagher. She was a 3 year old terror and loud and bossy as ever. Her blonde curls and bright blue eyes gave her the appearance of an angel, so Timmy hadn’t been alarmed when she’d walked slowly, but confidently over to the swing, his swing at the little run down park a couple streets over from his house. She was holding hands with a little black boy who looked a little older than her, but not by much.

Timmy had waited his turn, really. The other kid before him had swung five whole minutes before he had climbed on with great effort. “Hi!” He’d chirped down at the kids in front of him. 

“Hi.” the little boy said back.

Not the little girl. No, she pointed at the swing with her free hand, mouth spreading into a wide smile, revealing one missing tooth.”My turn!”

Timmy’s eyes had grown wide and he gripped the chains a little tighter. “No! I just got on it!”

It happened fast.

In a matter of seconds. Timmy hadn’t meant to nudge her out of the way with his foot. Really. He’d already been swinging and she’d moved in his way. But before he knew it Phoebe Gallagher had plopped onto the rocks and clay in front of him, and suddenly he felt his back hitting the ground.

“Hey!” Timmy wails as his own father storms his way over and some young blond guy comes running up. “Gallagher, your fuckin’ kid just pushed mine off the swing!”

The blond man flicks his cigarette on the ground and shrugs. “I didn’t see it. You push him Liam?”

“He pushed Phoebe first!” 

“It was an accident!” Timmy hollers.

“Sounds like the little fucker deserved it. Don’t push girls, kid. Or next time I’ll knock you on your ass.”

“Are you threatening my kid?”

“What’re you, gonna hit me?” Lip snorts, picking his daughter up and brushing off her skirt. “I’m a minor.”

“You need to get those hoodrat kids of yours in order!” 

“What you need to do is stop whining like a little bitch, it’s rubbin’ off on your kid.” The teen adjusts the girl on his hip, grabbing his little brother’s hand on the other side and guiding them away. 

So, Lip wasn’t a great disciplinarian. As far he was concerned, his daughter was still a good kid. She’s fuckin’ smart like him. And sweet, like Debbie and Ian. Funny like Carl. Determined like Fiona. She makes him want to be better. He finished high school so she could see how important learning is. He put off college a little bit, just because he’d rather use that time to make money to take care of her. Besides, when it came to Phoebe, there was nothing more important. He didn’t want to miss a thing.

“Daddy?” Phoebe whispered from her spot between his legs. She was watching Little Bear on the tv as Lip rested the book he was reading atop of her head, sloppy pigtails that he’d forced into her blond mop that morning. “How come there’s three?”

“Three what, angel?” he asks without looking up from the pages, snorting to himself at the philosophy of Thoreau in Walden. 

“Three bears.” Little fingers push at his face, trying to force him to look at the screen. “Look.”

“Okay, shit, okay. What?” He asks, leaning forward to rest his head on top of hers and dropping the book to the couch. 

“Th-there’s a daddy bear, a baby bear, and a mommy bear. We only have two. Daddy,” she places her hand on his stomach, turning in his grasp, “and I’m the baby. Except I’m a big girl.” 

Lip’s heart squeezes at where he knows this conversation is going. His baby is smart. She’s always been smart. He should’ve seen this coming. But for some reason he hadn’t prepared yet for this question. “We uh, we have more than two. We’re Gallagher’s, there’s too many of us. Like, Fiona, Ian, Debbie, Carl and Liam. There’s a lot of us.”

“But no mommy, right?” Phoebe’s little brows furrow as she runs through the list in her head. 

All Lip could do was open and close his mouth as he searched for words. He was only 18 when this conversation came. Still a kid himself, he’d just stopped giving a fuck that the closest thing he’d had to a mom was his own older sister. Sometimes he still felt bitter. Unwanted. Cheated. That was the last thing that he wanted his baby to feel. He’d spent the first two years of her life trying to ensure she wouldn’t notice. To do everything he could. Fill every space. She didn’t need anyone but him, because he was so fucking here. Every girly dance, every beauty salon, every tea party, he took the time to do. Because he didn’t want her to feel the sting of having a parent that didn’t give a fuck about you. He didn’t want the look in her eyes that he saw in his siblings, the one he refused to acknowledge reflecting back at him in the mirror. Going above and beyond what an adult man could do as a child himself. All for her.

Yet here she was. Wondering where mommy was.  

Lip could fucking kill Karen. If she wasn’t the one who gave him Phoebe.

He must’ve not hidden his face well. Because as advanced as his daughter was, the face that slipped onto her own was nothing but that of a child. Her eyes widened as she observed him and little hands squeezed his forearms. “It’s okay, Daddy. I like just two. It’s okay.”

Lip could kill Karen. But for now, he was going to focus on his daughter.

Bonus: Lip: 20yrs Phoebe: 5yrs

“And if someone fucks with you?”

“My dad will kick your ass.” Phoebe smiles, swinging Lip’s hand as she holds it in her own. “But no one is gonna be mean to me, Daddy. I’m a pretty girl.”

“Yeah, well I’ll kick their ass if they’re too nice too. Hold on, angel lemme get the keys from Kev.” 

“Kay!”

It was Phoebe’s first day of school and to say they were both nervous and excited was an understatement. Lip had saved up for three months for new clothes for Phoebe to wear to school. They’d used the flashcards at the library for the past year to give her a head start. Lip was finally starting college too. He’d do two years at community college to save up more money until he could transfer his credits and get a place for him and Phoebe closer to the university. But all of that was the future. Right now, he just had to survive dropping his baby off to school. He’d always been stingy with Phoebe. She was something that was his alone. Yes, they had family but he kept her far away from Frank and left the house altogether whenever Monica tumbled into town. He never offered for Karen to see her, even when she came back, only accepting the occasional child support check from Sheila and spending it solely on Phoebe. Now he’d have to share her with the world and ask (demand) for it to be kind to her.

“I wanna ring it!” Phoebe hollers, lifting her arms for Lip to hoist her up to ring Kev and V’s doorbell. He grunts dramatically as he lifts her, cherishing her giggles as she presses the bell over and over again.

Lip’s brows furrow when he hears a sweet voice calling from inside of the house, ‘I’m coming, I-jeez I’m coming!” 

Phoebe’s gasp echoes Lip’s inner thoughts as the door swings open, revealing a young woman who is definitely fucking not Kev or V. The girl smiles brightly, keys to Kev’s truck dangling around her dainty, manicured finger. Long lashes flutter around pretty brown eyes that glance at him politely before focusing on his daughter.

“Daddy! A princess!” Phoebe grins, tugging at the collar of his shirt.

The girl just smiles wider, brow lifting as she places her hands on her hips. “Well I was just about to say the same thing. Pleasure to meet you, your highness.” she dips into a brief curtsy, causing his daughter to squeal and kick her little legs. Those same pretty brown eyes lift to meet Lip’s again and he realizes he’d just been staring at the exchange, mouth agape, like a fucking idiot. “I’m Charlotte.”

Lip knows scientifically he doesn't have ovaries, but if they did, the way his daughter was looking at this girl would’ve made his burst. 

“Lip.”

[fictionalcharactersaremypassion]

That Time Franny's Uncles Made Her Birthday Better

This does contain Debbie bashing. Anyway, carry on!

---

Lately, Ian was trying out new recipes he'd found online, most of which his husband grumbled about. Mickey had simple taste, none of which wanted anything to do with the healthier dishes Ian was wanting to incorporate into their diet. 

Unfortunately, time might have gotten away from him while trying out this one. He stared down at the pan full of charred chicken and vegetables in dismay. 

“Guess we're ordering pizza, Chef Boyardee?” Mickey drawled. 

Ian scowled, shoving the pan into the sink and turning on the cold water. 

“This wouldn't have happened if you didn't distract me.” 

As expected, Mickey wasn't remorseful at all. If anything, he seemed proud, smirking as he came around the countertop to stand in front of Ian. 

“Didn't see you trying to stop me,” Mickey hooked his thumbs in between Ian's jeans. 

Already sensing where this was going, Ian placed his hands over his husband's. “We can’t,” he mumbled, eyes closing automatically when his lips were captured in a soft kiss. They shouldn’t, not when they’ll be heading to Debbie’s apartment for Franny’s twelfth birthday party. But he could feel his resistance crumbling with the way his husband’s hands traveled up his back, the kiss deepening until he wasn’t sure which one of them had moaned out loud. 

“Tell me to stop, Red,” Mickey said, a wicked undertone that was too damn sexy for his own good. 

All of Ian’s common sense, pointing out that they were short on time, flew out the window. He shoved Mickey against the counter, the kiss rougher than before. His husband was steadily unzipping his jeans, and started to pull them down when the doorbell echoed, effectively interrupting the moment. 

“Fucking hell,” Mickey hissed. Ian reluctantly pulled away, making himself look presentable again. “If it’s that on site manager bitch again, I’m gonna fucking explode.” 

He threw open the door, and from Ian could see, all his anger evaporated right away the second he realized who was there. 

“Franny?” Ian said in surprise, coming around to stand with Mickey. 

Their niece smiled weakly at them, using the end of one of her sleeves on her oversized hoodie to wipe away her tears. “Is it okay if I crash with you guys for a bit?” 

They don’t hesitate to let her in. 

“What’s up, Kid?” Mickey asked after he shut the door. He wasn’t showing it, but Ian could see for himself how concerned he was. “Thought you’d be at home.” 

“I was,” Franny shrugged, taking in a shaky deep breath. 

The two men glanced at each other, wondering what could have possibly sent her over here at this time of day. The sun had already started to set and Debs’ apartment was a little further out than they’d want her to be walking to get over here. Just wasn’t as safe as it used to be for them-if it’d ever really been that way. 

“Why don’t you go wash your face?” Ian suggested. Her eyes were swollen, bright red, standing out against her normally pale skin. 

She nodded without a word, closing the door to the bathroom behind her. 

“The fuck is wrong with her?” Mickey had lowered his voice so Franny wouldn’t hear. 

“I don’t know. I just hope it’s not what I think it is,” Ian said, causing Mickey’s eyebrows to furrow in confusion. 

His sister and Franny were getting more argumentative lately. Some of it, he suspected, was normal mother-daughter spats. Franny was on the cusp of becoming a teenager, seeking out independence and being her own person. 

Not that it could all be blamed on that. Debbie was his sister and as much as he loved her, Ian knew very well that she wasn’t always the greatest mother. Not with her tendency to force her own interests on her daughter, completely disregarding what Franny wanted, or putting her happiness before that of her daughter. 

Ian put on a small smile when Franny came back out, quiet and avoiding meeting their eyes. 

“I didn’t know you guys were about to have dinner,” she was referencing the oven which was still counting down. Ian had forgotten to turn it off after taking out the ruined meal. 

“We’re not,” Ian shook his head. 

“Your least favorite uncle burnt the fuck out of it,” Mickey said, trying to lighten the mood. Franny didn’t react to it like he’d hoped. “Come on, little Red, what’s up with you?” 

It seemed like a switch had been flipped; Franny was hesitant, chewing on her lip. “It’s not a big deal.” 

“It’s big enough that you came here,” Ian pointed out. When Franny’s lip trembled, her eyes going glossy again, he guided her to the couch so she could sit down. He was next to her with Mickey plopped down on the arm. “You can tell us anything, Franny. You know that.” 

Their little niece buried her face in her hoodie sleeves that covered her hands, shoulders shaking when she let out a quiet sob. “Mom forgot my birthday.” 

A surge of anger shot through Ian, but he kept himself under control. He knew Mickey was just as furious, and placed a hand on his thigh to remind him not to explode right now. “She did?” 

Franny nodded, sniffling. 

“Who’s she fucking now?” Mickey demanded. 

Ian pursed his lips. That was another one of Debs’ problems. She went from woman to woman in search of a lifelong partner. Unfortunately, she had a habit of choosing the wrong kind of woman; the irresponsible kind who yearned for fun and recklessness and wanted no part in being part of Debbie’s life for more than a couple months. Or, she drove them away like she had with Sandy. 

She laughed humorlessly. “You’d think that was the problem, right? No, she’s just working a lot. Had some client she was meeting almost an hour away. She said there’s hot pockets in the freezer for me to eat if I got hungry.” 

Mickey was openly scowling by now.

“Does she know she forgot?” Ian asked. “I thought you were having a party later?” 

“I thought so too,” Franny muttered. “Guess not. I said something and then she remembered but she was already on her way out so...” 

“So you came here,” Ian finished. 

“After we...got into it,” Franny ducked her head like she expected them to scold her for it. 

“Eh, she deserved it,” Mickey shrugged. 

“Mickey,” Ian muttered, although he didn’t really disagree. 

“Don’t Mickey me, Gallagher. You know it’s true.” 

Franny laughed wetly. It was soft, brief but it was a good sign nonetheless. 

“You know what the worst part is? I kind of expected it. She’s been constantly working. I barely even see her anymore, not that it’s such a bad thing...” 

Her voice drifted off towards the end, sounding unusually bitter. 

“What does that mean?” Ian asked softly. 

“Nothing,” Franny clammed up, shaking her head. 

Mickey wordlessly got off the arm of the couch to sit next to her, his arm wrapping around her shoulders, and she instinctively leaned into his side. Ian’s heart warmed to see this. He loved the close relationship those two had ever since Franny was really young. 

“Not gonna work, kid,” Mickey told her. “You’re gonna have to spill eventually.” 

Franny wiped away the remaining tears on her face, she’d been calmer these past few minutes. She glanced up at him, suddenly looking much younger than she was. “It’s just...” She struggled to get the words out, “Mom doesn’t like my style.” 

Franny was a tomboy through and through. Ian had thought after the princess party went wrong, Debbie would have backed off. Sandy even mentioned sometime after that she’d admitted the whole thing had been for herself anyway. 

That was just the tip of the iceberg, he’d soon learned. 

Debbie continued to pick out clothes her daughter despised, clothes she would have worn at her age. She was desperately hoping Franny might change her mind and join in on the girly activities she tried to introduce to her. Ian didn’t think that was going to happen anytime soon. 

Franny much preferred her oversized t-shirts and ripped jeans. 

“She was nagging me about that pink sweater she bought me two weeks ago. She knows I don’t wear pink or sweaters!” Franny said, frustrated. 

With the arm that had been around her, Mickey ruffled her hair. “Give it to us, Little Red, We’ll take care of it.” 

“Really?” Franny looked up at him with hope. 

Ian was giving him a look as well. Really? 

“Really,” Mickey confirmed. “It’ll give us something to give to the brat two doors down.” 

Ian rolled his eyes. He’d agreed on their behalf to attend the woman’s daughter’s birthday party. “We need to start being sociable, Mickey.” 

“Fuck that.” 

Franny scooted closer to Mickey, seeking more comfort. “I just don’t get why Mom hates what I wear.” 

“Peppermint Patty has issues,” Mickey said with a shrug. “Don’t let it get you down, Franny.” 

“Kinda hard not to when she’s telling me how much prettier I could be if I tried.” And fuck, Franny looked defeated, like her mother's words were really sinking in. 

“There’s nothing wrong with how you look,” Ian told her firmly.  “And there’s nothing wrong with your clothes either.” 

“Yeah,” Mickey nudged her, nodding at her Black Sabbath hoodie. “You got some good taste. Surprisingly.” 

Franny rolled her eyes, a smile peeking out. “Uncle Mickey, have you ever even listened to them?” 

“Kid, I was listening to metal before you were born,” Mickey smirked. 

Ian observed them for a moment or two. He didn’t want to have to send her back to the apartment, knowing she would be there all alone and on her birthday no less. “Franny,” he addressed her, “why don't we have a party for you now? Just the three of us.” 

He looked past her, right at Mickey. His husband was on board immediately. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah,” Ian nodded. “You pick what you want for dinner and Uncle Mickey can go get you a cake. We already have your gifts. No reason why we can’t do this tonight.” 

The bright smile he got from Franny made him smile too. 

“Okay,” she said happily. “Cool. Uh...can we have pizza?” 

“You got it,” Ian said with a grin. “Chocolate cake okay with you?” 

Franny agreed. That was her ultimate favorite. 

“You guys are the best,” she said when Mickey grabbed his keys, preparing to leave. 

Twenty minutes later, their stomachs were full. Mickey, being the softie he was, had also grabbed two kinds of ice cream for her. God, he loved that man. 

Franny was beaming the whole time, dunking her pizza into the ranch, listening intently to one of Mickey’s less traumatic childhood stories. She thought I spy, you shoot was hilarious, and he’d looked back at Ian with visible smugness. 

Finally, it was time for her to open her gifts. 

It wasn’t hard to tell who had given her what- Ian’s wrapping was much neater than Mickey’s. 

Franny was ecstatic to find four books from that horror series she liked to read. Her excitement continued when she opened Mickey’s- a new black hoodie. 

“This one’s from both of us,” Ian pointed at the last one, a semi long box. 

“Oh my God!” 

Franny pulled out a skateboard. She’d been wanting one for a while now, eager to learn how to ride it. 

“Thank you! Thank you!” She shrieked, lunging at them, hugging them both tightly. “This is the best gift ever! I love you guys so much!” 

Ian laughed, kissing her on the head. “We love you too, Franny.” 

“Just remember this was your favorite uncle’s idea,” Mickey interjected, holding her for a few seconds longer. 

“It was our idea,” Ian snorted. 

Franny couldn’t stop smiling. It was stretched across her face. “Can I go ride it now?” 

“Sure,” Mickey agreed, already slipping on his jacket again. 

“Can you get a picture of me doing it, Uncle Ian?” Franny asked on their way out the door. “I wanna show my friends.” 

He’d deal with the fallout and Debbie tomorrow. He knew she’d probably bitch about Franny being but Ian couldn’t care less about that right now. 

“Sure, thing, Franny.”  ---

Might make one more chapter where Ian and Mickey deal with Debbie's wrath (and they lay into her for how she's treating her daughter)

[secretsocietyofgamejumpers]

Grace’s Post-RBTI Headcanons

One thing I didn’t like as much about the Sugar Rush Racers books from 2023 is that they were explicitly set after Ralph Breaks the Internet, but we really didn’t get to see much of how things changed back at the arcade ever since Vanellope made her decision to stay in Slaughter Race (Ex. How did her relationship to the Sugar Rush racers change? Who’s president now? Etc.) So, here are my headcanons about what happened after Vanellope left.

Sour Bill became president of Sugar Rush. Vanellope chose him 1) because he is the most knowledgeable about ruling the kingdom, having served under two leaders of the game, and 2) because she was afraid there would be a bloodbath if she offered the job to any of the other racers.

When Gene found out about Sour Bill’s new position of power, the two formed a bond. Gene invited Sour Bill to come to Niceland Apartments in the evenings to discuss political strategy (that’s why Gene was carrying him at the end)

Felix took Vanellope leaving perhaps harder than Ralph did—mostly because he felt guilty that he and Calhoun had grown apart from the kid, but also because he felt the responsibility to keep positive for Ralph’s sake. Ralph found Felix crying on his brick pile one night and invited him into his shack for a drink and a chat. The experience helped them grow closer than they’d ever been before.

Calhoun, meanwhile, didn’t seem to be taking the loss so hard. However, one night she opened up to Felix that she was afraid that, like Vanellope, he was bored of the routine of his life, and might even be bored of her. Felix reassured her that would never happen—and that coming home to Calhoun is the most exciting thing to happen to him every day.

Vanellope loved her new friends, the Slaughter Race Five, but no one could replace the friends she’d made at the arcade.

When she first arrived in Slaughter Race, she cried herself to sleep every night over whether she made the right decision. Butcher Boy was always there to lend a meaty shoulder to cry on. (Inspired by the Sugar Rush Racers books.)

Debbie is a tattoo artist when not racing. Vanellope often hangs around her studio, helping her come up with new designs. Also, Debbie created the candy apple design on her car.

Felony is the punk rocker in the Slaughter Race crew. She makes mixtapes for the other four and was stoked to make one for Vanellope. Also, she writes her own music in her spare time, and Vanellope loves to jam out with her.

Pyro is the prankster, and he and Debbie have a sort of friendly rivalry when it comes to pranks. They enjoy filming their pranks on each other and posting it to BuzzzTube, and Vanellope loves to join Pyro in getting back at Debbie. She also enjoys watching Yesss give play-by-plays of the vids.

The Sugar Rush steering wheel didn’t arrive for a few more days after Ralph returned, so Felix and Calhoun still had the racers in their apartment during gameplay hours. Calhoun came up with a foolproof solution: get someone less crucial to their game to babysit the Racers. It was a win-win situation…just not for Markowski!

[formosusiniquis]

facts and pearls (both sensitive)

also on AO3 for ease of reading

Personally, Steve thinks it's a little suspicious that the supposedly shut down local child experimentation lab was able to be sanitized and reopened in less than 48 hours. But then nobody has really asked for his opinion on anything other than, 'does he have a pulse' and 'can you carry him back through the gate.' 

But then by the time the conversation about taking Eddie to the suddenly reopened lab turned 'specialized treatment facility' the focus had shifted pretty hard to a comatose Max. Not that Steve has a problem with that, Max is the strongest of them all and he's also very concerned about her sight less eyes, her broken bones, and her sleeping brain, he just thinks some concern could be spared for the guy who got dragged into this mess kicking and screaming and almost died because of it.

Nobody asked his opinion though, and he threw all of his Harrington weight around just to get Eddie admitted. Now that all the adults in the know have miraculously appeared after all the shit has hit the fan everyone -- other than Nancy -- has been relegated back to the kids table where they can be seen and not heard. The adults in the know have focused their attention on Max, and he doesn't think anyone has even called Eddie's uncle to let him know he's alive -- Steve doesn't know much about father figures, so he doesn't know if it's a good or bad thing that Wayne Munson stays in the dark while Eddie is still so touch and go -- so when a man in a white coat tells the folks at Hawkins General that he's an animal attack specialist come to transfer Mr. Munson to a specialized facility no one cares.

No one but Steve, who has no parents to notice he's missing and no one to back him up because of it. No one but Steve, who isn't about to go to the Chief or Mrs. Byers, neither of whom like or even really trust him and he can't say there's a lot of love lost between him and Hopper either. No one but Steve, who doesn't really trust the staff at Hawkins General to not do something to Eddie anyway doesn't really trust them at all; how many times can a boy break his arm climbing a tree, how many times can his mother bump her head on an open kitchen cabinet before you start to ask a few questions? No one but Steve, who damn well isn't going to let him go alone just to get disappeared by a government trying to make the worst of their mistakes go away.

So he leaves a note for Robin and Dustin with the hospital staff, a nurse he remembers from school who he's sure remembers him better, letting her know where he is lest he get disappeared too; and he climbs into the back of an ambulance in a pair of borrowed scrubs with an unconscious but mostly stable Eddie Munson as an agent drives them both away.

That was a week ago, and Steve still isn't sure if he made the right call.

Steve has been going to a court 'recommended' therapist since he was thirteen and got caught pawning off his father's watch and cufflinks, got caught not by the police but by a lawyer friend of his father's who of course called his dad who of course got a judge involved. No one asked why he'd done it, no one asked much of anything before deciding that Steve was troubled but fixable -- and wasn't it so in vogue to go to therapy, the better you know yourself, the better you know others, the better you are at business. So once a month his father's assistant, Debbie then Mary then Barbie then Veronica, dropped him off at an office where he was expected to tell a stranger what was wrong with him. Except obviously not really. He couldn't tell them that he'd pawned the jewelry because the money he'd been left was gone and the cabinets were empty. He couldn't tell them that the last time he'd spoken to his father it'd been a shouting match that had ended in welts and bruising -- his arms stay whole now that sports are an option. And four years later he can't tell them that he needs a nightlight again because he needs to be able to make sure all of his walls stay solid and monsterless.

He shares enough to know that trauma does weird shit to you.

He figures that's why he feels so compelled to make sure Eddie 'the Freak' Munson doesn't wake up in this nightmare of a place alone. A little bit of trauma and a little bit of guilt for letting him end up batfood in the first place. No matter what little looks Robin sends him when she comes by, no matter what little flirtations happened while they were in the middle of an apocalypse event. It's the guilt keeping him here, and a lack of anywhere else to go.

Sure, the guy was attractive but he wasn't Nancy Wheeler he wasn't going to jump into a relationship with the first half attractive guy he went through a traumatic event with. Trauma bonds weren't exactly the stablest of foundations for a relationship, just ask the flaming wreckage of whatever was going on with her relationship with Jonathan. 

He may have trauma bonded with Dustin and Robin, but their relationship grew from it not because of it.

He's here because he has to be.

He still isn't sure if anyone has told Wayne Munson where his child is.

And anyway his house is ten yards from a fault line, the only person to try to get in contact with him was his parents insurance agent -- though he doesn't doubt that his mother tried. So why wouldn't he be here, taking the night shift in a place where he can sleep in a bed and rebandage his sides and his back without worrying about things being sterile.

It is so very clean in this place that wasn't supposed to exist anymore. He won't let the man who put himself between certain death and Steve's little brother wake up in some observation tank.

Sometimes he thinks he can feel Eddie's pulse in his sides and thinks it's better that they're both here anyway. The staff all know him here, let him in when he buzzes, but he knows if something happened if a slug burst through the wounds in his sides like a shitty Alien remake that they would be locked in here. The situation contained. It helps him sleep at night, curled in a hospital bed two feet away from Eddie's steady, comatose breathing.

He hopes Max sleeps as easy.

He hopes she's awake.

He wants to see her, but knows she has a vigil of people at her side. Knows that Joyce Byers and Chief Hopper are there when they can be with Lucas and El. Doesn't know if he can stand the conversation that will result, who let those children go into that fight alone. How could you let this happen.

So he gets his updates from Dustin who gets them from Mike who gets them from El, a long telephone chain that he hopes comes close to accuracy. He would post himself in the hallway between two rooms if he could, but they took Eddie away and nobody asked his opinion on whether it was even a good idea. Just has to trust and wonder if one of them will ever get better, if one of them will ever wake up.

"The doctors told Lucas that talking helps," Dustin tells him one day. It's been nine days since Vecna and everything is still in shambles. Steve and Robin help when and where they can, Robin because she cares and Steve because he has to. Has to put in an appearance. Has to be seen. Has to do something with all this goddamn useless energy because everything has gone to shit and swinging a blunt object won't fix it this time. Has to help someone since all he's done for his friends is let them get hurt.

He can only leave if someone is there. Robin or Dustin or sometimes Mike.

Night shift comes and Dustin is reading out loud from some fantasy tome because the doctors told Lucas that talking helps and they've all run out of their own words to say to an unconscious motormouth who is too fucking still.

Dustin leaves the book. Robin takes him home. Someone has to stay.

Talking helps apparently, and Steve has been blessed with the realization the only reason they haven't buzzed Eddie's head like El's and slapped all the wires they can to it is because someone is always there. The only reason Eddie isn't wearing a crown of wires recording his brain activity, looking for Vecna hidden in the spikes of awareness is because they are watching everything, ready to sound the alarm of government overstep. When Dustin's gone he'll braid it, save it, it's just hair but you don't grow your hair out to your shoulders if you don't care about it being there. When morning comes and Dustin returns, Steve will say the nurses did it and they'll all pretend to believe him.

Dustin leaves the book behind. "Talking helps," he reminds as Steve walks him to the door. He won't step out, won't go any farther from the bed, he doesn't trust the government doctors anymore than he trusts the ones from Hawkins; but he'll walk his little brother to the door, watch him climb into the Buckley's station wagon, make sure they drive away, pretend that they're both still talking about Eddie and not him.

Eddie is still there when he gets back. Still and ringless and pale in the powder blue hospital gown they keep him in so the doctor and nurses can get at whatever piece of bruised, torn, and battered skin they need to in a particular moment. Still and quiet, save for the sound of his heart monitor and his even breathing, a good sign that he's breathing on his own the same good sign they give them every time a day goes by and there are no other changes. Is Max breathing on her own, or is a machine doing it for her? He'll have to ask next time someone comes by.

Steve has never been one to talk just to hear himself. Years alone in his big empty house, he's used to silence. He doesn't talk to Eddie, knowing Eddie isn't going to talk back, they spend most of their time together sleeping when they're alone. But Dustin says talking will help.

"Apparently, I've been screwing you over letting you stew in silence, Munson." That feels wrong, if he's going to talk he should be nicer. "Guess I thought you might like a little peace and quiet whenever Robin and Henderson left, they talk enough for six."

Steve has no problem maneuvering Eddie where he needs him, careful of the stitches on his sides and his neck and his jaw, he has helped the nurses move him around that he doesn't think twice wrapping his arms around Eddie's upper body and shifting him upright so Steve has better access to those dark curls. "I feel like an idiot so I imagine this will be about the time you decide to grace us with your presence, I remember your flair for the dramatic from school." He bought a comb for Dustin, when he realized the stuff he has for his own hair isn't meant for the fluffy curls Dust has. It's in the gym bag that all of his worldly possessions have been fit inside. He doesn't think Eddie will mind sharing. Pulling a chair in as close as possible to the bed he brushes and braids one side, “Henderson left the fantasy shit he was reading you earlier, and honestly Eds,” that’s better, that’s nicer. Nice like Eddie’s hair, soft if a little tangled up and twisted, “honestly if he thinks I’m going to read that shit he’s crazy.”

He sounds mean again, can Eddie tell. Can Eddie even hear him? The abrasive sort of joking he and the kids favor doesn’t really work if you aren’t in on the joke. He’d tried to read those ring books before, they’re something Dustin cares about, if only this thing Dustin cares so much about weren’t printed in size 8 font, cramped onto the page like they were running out of paper when they started doing the printing. Even if he could see it, he can’t, he wouldn’t be able to keep the letters from flipping and flopping and dancing around the page.

He comes around the other side, pulls that chair up so it’s right against the bed. Knees rubbing against the rough cotton of the sheets they keep him on. It looks better even now, half braided and a little frizzy from being combed out but it will need to be washed before too long, grease gathering at the hairline. “You’ll just have to deal with my taste in literature until he comes back, since I don’t think either one of us wants to listen to me go on and on about the world at large.”

Eddie won’t be tossing or turning in bed to disturb either of the twin braids that Steve has made. He has to be rolled by Steve and the nurses to prevent bedsores, legs and arms worked each day to try to save the muscles from atrophy. Physical therapy will be a bitch if he wakes up soon and the longer he’s out the worse it will be. Still he manages to find some old ponytail holders in the bottom of his bag, tossed in there by Robin who can’t even use them anymore but likes to wear them on her wrist in case it gives her a chance to talk to a girl, and secures them both anyway.

He moves the Hobbit, sets it on a side table so it doesn’t get bent or lost. He’ll let that be a Henderson and Eddie thing, something for Dustin to look forward to when he comes here. It’s hard for all of them, losing people this time; but it’s been hardest for Dustin, two of his friends in sick beds, one of them briefly dying in his arms.

Steve’s personal tastes tend toward horror, ironically. Horror and romance, he enjoys a controlled build up of tension and then a satisfying release. Stephen King and bodice rippers, one doesn’t feel appropriate and the other he wouldn’t admit to under pain of death. So he settles for science fiction.

“You can’t make fun of me,” Steve says on instinct, “well, I guess that’s still true. I’m a slow reader so you’ll just have to live in each moment for a little while.” Nearly every book he has has an index card covered in Nancy Wheeler’s illegibly neat curling cursive tucked inside of it. The remnant of their relationship and of her still everywhere in his life, smudgy fingerprints on everything he has. He also just never has a bookmark, and those stupid flashcards still turn up in the dumbest places -- he didn’t even use them to study, just needed another body in the room so he could actually buckle down and focus; but try convincing Nance of anything once she had her mind set to it -- they do help a little now, blocking out the majority of the page so his brain can bring the few lines he lets be seen into focus.

“I’ll make my report as if I told a story, for I was taught as a child on my homeworld that Truth is a matter of the imagination.”

Steve stays because someone has to. Steve reads because talking is important. “The soundest fact may fail or prevail in the style of its telling,” He won’t let Eddie Munson be alone. It’s all he can do, no one’s asked his opinion.

[sam-loves-seb]

weely tag wednesday

thanks for the tags @energievie @metalheadmickey @deedala !

which character from any media would you like to have as a father? jed bartlet (the west wing)

if money, laws, time, and effort were no object, what animal would you want to have? probably just a cat tbh i'm not a big animal person (i think they're neat, i just don't really have the desire to own any of them)

what is your Chinese takeout order? pork fried rice and chicken fingers

what's your favourite emoji? this one: ✨

would you rather have a library, greenhouse, or home theater in your house? a home theater. a library would be sick but i read mostly ebooks so i think a theater would get more use out of me.

what childhood tv show do you think of the most fondly? Spongebob Squarepants. me and my sister used to watch this every single night with our dad when we were little, but if we wanted to stay up and watch it we had to be all ready for bed by the time it came on

what was your tumblr like when you first joined? it was a lot of reblogs of aesthetic photographs because it was 2012 and i was 14. not long after that tho it turned into a sebastian stan fan blog which is how i got my url, and over time that slowly morphed into the multi fandom madness you see today

what clothing style do you love but don't feel compelled to replicate yourself? god i don't know, my closet is a little bit of everything because i always wanna try a new style when i see it. i honestly don't think i have an answer for this one, i really do love fashion and my style is constantly changing

if you were plopped into a fictional world, which one would you know the layout of the best? i have no idea. acotar maybe? solely because i've read those books so many times? yeah i guess i'll go with that

what is your favourite piece of art? café terrace at night

do you have a water bottle? what does it look like? i have a light blue wide mouth nalgene water bottle that is covered in stickers and has two friendship bracelets dangling from the cap strap. it's giving major camp counselor vibes.

what fanfic trope is a quiet fave? look, if i go on a quiet hunt for fics tagged aftercare every now and then, that is between me and god so shut the fuck up about it

do you carry a daily bag? what does it look like? what's the weirdest thing in it? nope. i don't have an office bag bc i wfh and on the weekends i absolutely despise carrying a purse. i have one of those phone cases with card slots on the back and it holds everything i could possibly need.

if you had to ship Mickey with another Gallagher, who would it be? sexually i think it'd have to be lip, but if i could platonically ship him with someone i think i'd pick fiona. idk i just think they'd get along better than anyone would think.

what is a fanfic trope you didn't expect to like and then very much did? friends to lovers kinda snuck up on me in my adulthood. i used to be very against it as a teen, but now that i'm grown and have actually seen the trope done well in fics and in media, it's one of my favorite tropes of all time.

Do you think s11 Mickey can still carry s11 Ian? yes 100% absolutely and anyone who says otherwise is lying. (did we all see noel's s11 body? we saw the abs right? mans was ripped in the last season even tho the writers like, never showed it, and it is my personal mission to avenge this wrongdoing) i'm kidding about the lying part but yeah, he absolutely can still carry s11 ian, being able to lift his husband is the only reason he still goes to the gym

who got custody of the killing bat when they sold the house? debbie. i think carl wanted it, but he already has a gun so he gave it to debbie instead.

tagging: @suchagallabitch @gallawitchxx @callivich @michellemisfit @iansw0rld and anyone else who wants to play !

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

Thinking about Rory's parents on this wonderful Wednesday morning. Deborah Lang (fc: Carla Gugino) and Michael Sinclair (fc: hugh grant), two people from very different worlds who never should have met, much less hit it off as a couple and then have a kid.

Rory's mom is very much my own version of Miss Honey from 'Matilda'. Deborah Lang is a school teacher from Vancouver, BC with a heart of gold, who cares deeply for her students, their futures and her own daughter. She is kind and gentle and forgiving and very much the reason why Rory has the convictions she does around her moral code, but is also the reason why Rory so easily slips into the role of the lamb. Her mother was her whole world, molding herself in her mother's image, seeing her as a fighter as Debbie fought against cancer until the bitter end.

Her mother's death is really the catalyst for all things that have happened in Rory's life. If she hadn't died, Rory never would have moved to England, wouldn't have been grieving and angry about her life being upheaved, her grades wouldn't have faltered so badly that she would have needed to join the military in the first place for some sort of a future. Rory wouldn't be carrying 3/4 of the trauma that she does.

She also wouldn't have met Price.

Michael Sinclair on the other hand is the upper crust London barrister from a well-to-do family. He's more conservative in his affection, has high expectations, and also with the divorce from Debbie when Rory was 8 is thrust back into fatherhood when he becomes her legal guardian once more when she's 14. He's tossed into the deep end with a daughter he barely knows, not only is she now a moody teenager that he has no experience dealing or coping with, she's grieving and acting out, rebelling against him. Making both of their lives a living hell for 4 years until she decides to join the military because she's left herself with no other future.

And he hates it. He hates that his daughter who is clearly smart, driven, and strong is "lowering" herself to become a soldier. She could be anything, A doctor, a lawyer, and instead she's a grunt being shot at. He tries so hard to convince her not to become a soldier, that it only pushes her further towards a military career. It breaks his heart. Having to live every day worrying while she's fighting in Afghanistan that she might never come back home. He watches the news, and every report makes his heart squeeze with fear. Even as she receives medals for bravery, and furthers her rank that fear never leaves him, but it swells along with his pride for her.

[mandy4ever69420]

what do you think about gallavich having kids

well they both seem to really like kids so i ignore my automatic flinch reaction to the corniness of "tv couple has kids" because its not out of character. you know, it's a stated goal of a nice man. i think it'd be nice for them. certainly not til they're in their 30s at least though Sorry Ian one apartment does not a family ready man make

like obviously the whole yevgeny thing would have to be reckoned with like mickey as a man who likes kids + did not want that child but grew fond of him anyway + was forcibly separated for years by incarceration* and not a single aspect of that is conductive to a good emotional response to just having another one. i don't know necessarily that reconnecting is necessary (as opposed to just, noticing and dealing with how it feels) though i think it'd be nice, maybe to have mickey a sort of more distant family figure for yevgeny - i don't think svetlana would allow yevgeny to live in a way that his needs weren't being met AND i think jumping back into being fully involved would probably freak mickey out

as much as i enjoyed their new apartment i think it's a little sad that they don't live with a couple family members anymore (for now) because i think being able to be close with siblings' kids would be really good for ^^ all that - also it's just safer for kids to have a larger support system than just their parents

there are unfortunately also not a lot of ethical ways for a gay couple to GET a kid... i don't have all the sources, i'd have to ask to get a better explanation, but adoption and surrogacy are both highly flawed systems that often mislead and exploit birth parents. annoyingly enough the most ethical idea presented was probably the "you want me banging your sister??" (IVF exists btw mickey. no you do not have to bang his sister in this scenario) exchange because they know debbie and she'd be able and definitely determined to be involved in the life of any hypothetical child. BUT STILL - even beyond that they'd need to be sure she wanted to be involved, id say it'd be important to know she already wanted another kid. like BEFORE saying anything. pregnancy is a potentially dangerous and traumatic process that it's really not fair to ask of someone!

shameless itself within the show briefly referenced the problems with adoption and surrogacy both - in how objectively horrifying some of the people karen talked to were, in how horribly unfair it would've been to separate v's mom from her child with kevin, in those men who wanted to adopt liam and carl with no concern for their existing family who loved them.

thinking about ian and mickey having kids inevitably leads me also into the philosophy of the "nuclear family" which is just in general not a great setup anyway... having more support and more regular contact with trustworthy loving adults is always healthier for a child. having only 2 people be in control of your whole life + whom you rely on for everything carries more potential for abuse or just flat-out overwhelming the parents. so being in a wider family network is probably not what ian is picturing but if i could email him i'd recommend it wholeheartedly

*and probably not knowing where svetlana is. i assume she gave up hope that mickey would care because they're both such "show by doing" ass bitches which is IMPOSSIBLE to do from inside prison. so he can't express his care for a child he's grown attached to and she can't see him care for her son -> she feels heartbroken and doesn't want her son to grow up around a man who "doesn't care" -> she cuts off contact, leaves the area, refuses to discuss mickey. all speculative

[reginaregen]

outrageous-chapter 5

Tina sat on the old couch in their living room, resting her elbows on her knees and cradling her head in her hands. Her throat was dry. She asked again, “Did Frank sell me out?”

Lip placed his hands on his hips. “At least you didn’t go for cheap. He sold you for a million dollars.”

Tina looked at him with disbelief just as Debbie came downstairs with Peter, who was carrying a small handbag. “We’ve packed your things.”

“This is ridiculous,” Tina protested. “If they come here and can’t find me, they’ll tear this place apart.”

Ian laughed. “When they come here and find Lip and me, they’ll just leave.”

“What if they don’t?”

Rebecca cleared her throat. “Are you kidding? Do you really think Bucky and Steve would let anything happen to the kids? You’ll only stay until they find Frank and hand him over. Don’t exaggerate.”

“Liam can’t sleep without me!”

Steve chuckled. “No offense, but he’s sleeping peacefully with Emma now. You’re not irreplaceable, Tina. The kids are growing up.”

This time, Tina turned to Peter, but the boy didn’t let her speak. “Tina, my dad might not be the easiest guy in the world, but I’m sure he’ll protect you. Besides, where else can you go outside this neighborhood?”

The girl shrugged. The kid was right. It was only until they caught Frank and handed him over, right? How long could that take? She shuddered at the memory of the time her father had vanished for eight months. But arguing further wouldn’t help. She hugged Rebecca and Steve, thanking them for looking after Liam. She warned Lip and Ian a hundred times. Grabbing the small bag, she walked out to the garden with Peter and Debbie following her. They would be getting into the car driven by Happy, sent by Tony. As the man got out to help her with her bag, her eyes caught sight of Bucky's house right next door, to her left. When she locked eyes with the man sitting in his rocking chair on the porch, watching her with narrowed eyes, she quickly turned her gaze down. A chill crawled up her spine.

Not long ago, she had thought Bucky's arms were the safest place in the world. Now, even making eye contact with the man felt like surrendering her soul.

Finally, as she was leaving the neighborhood, she saw Luna, Pietro's daughter, walking toward Bucky's garden fence with a casserole dish in her hands.

“Little Miss Sunshine, I'm not in the mood, just so you know. Take your rainbows and unicorns and get off my lawn.”

Luna was used to the man's grumpiness. With her arms trembling under the weight of the casserole dish she held tightly with both hands, she entered through the open garden gate and climbed the short steps. She stood beside Bucky. “Could you open the door, Sergeant Barnes?”

Bucky crossed his arms over his chest. “If I hear you say ‘James’ from those lovely shiny lips, why not?”

Luna blushed to her ears as she looked at the man grinning at her with a self-satisfied expression. God! Honestly, she hated that Bucky Barnes could make her blush like this with just a raise of his eyebrow. But what she hated more was that she kind of liked it.

She loved it when James called her “Lovely Shiny Lips.” But could she admit that? Never! For a moment, she thought about how her father would go crazy if he found out, even if everything was going well and Bucky liked her back.

“My arms are hurting.”

Bucky got up and placed his hand on the doorknob. “My arms are hurting, who?”

The girl conceded. “James.”

Bucky opened the door. “Not so hard, is it, Shiny Lips?”

As Luna reminded herself to touch up her lip gloss, she placed the casserole she had made with Wanda’s recipe in the kitchen of the man who had followed her. When she turned back, the man was leaning against the door, watching her with his arms crossed over his chest. “You don’t have to bring me food.”

“I know, but it was a new recipe I was trying, and I thought—”

“You wanted to poison me, not the others in the house. I get it.”

“No! It’s not like that!”

The man laughed. “No problem.”

The unfortunate event that led Luna to enter James Buchanan Barnes's house had happened just ten days ago.

A boy she liked from school had asked her out and then left his marijuana in her pocket, running away to avoid paying the bill. Left in the middle of the café, not knowing what to do, she was shocked when the police came and searched her. While thinking she would end up in jail because of the weed found in her pocket, she had heard James's voice, who happened to be there: “Just look at that face, do you think she might be using it?” He had come over, gently tilting her chin to show the police. “About to pass out.”

The officers who recognized him immediately greeted him. James was always around when Luna was growing up because he was close friends with her father and aunt Wanda for a long time. She also knew that James was completely unaware of the girl. She had a crush on the Winter Soldier all her childhood. The man wouldn't even see Luna when he came to their house, that was how uninterested he was in the girl's presence.

“I know her father. I’ll handle this,” Bucky had said. “You mentioned there’s been no prior record, right?”

And so, with Bucky's help, Luna had managed to get out of that situation. When Bucky offered to drive her home, she thought he was being polite, but the route turned out to be heading not home but to hell.

“Have you lost your mind? How could you get yourself into trouble with the cops? Your father’s the Escobar of this damn Chicago! Are you carrying weed?”

When Luna started to cry, Bucky finally fell silent, but then the girl told him how she had been fooled by the boy she liked...

Bucky’s expression softened, but he kept his eyes on the road. “Luna,” he said in a gentle voice, “boys your age don’t like good girls. You’re a good girl. And even if they did like you, your father would chop their heads off.”

Luna laughed through her tears, “I thought he liked me,” she said, sniffling.

“You misunderstood,” Bucky cut her off. “When a guy likes a girl, he doesn’t slip drugs into her pocket and leave her for the police.”

“But…”

When Bucky shot her one of his famous, chilling looks, Luna shrank back in her seat. The topic was closed.

Since that day, Luna had been trying to repay her debt to Bucky for not telling her father, while also easing her own conscience. The day after he saved her, she found herself at his door with a cherry pie in hand. As she saw Bucky open the door in nothing but sweatpants, she felt like she had been hit by a spear and regretted her decision, but it was too late now. When she finally forced herself to look up from his well-defined abs to his face, her ears burned. She made a sound of protest when Bucky plunged his finger right into the middle of the pie, but she couldn’t help but be mesmerized as he tried to figure out the flavor by putting his finger in his mouth.

“How did you know I liked cherry?”

Because it's sour and sweet at the same time, just like you. She bit her tongue to keep from speaking.

“Luna?”

“Um... I just wanted to thank you.” She handed him the pie, now with a hole in the middle.

Bucky waved two fingers of his free hand in front of his forehead to salute her, “Alright then.”

As he was about to close the door, Luna stopped him. “And um…”

“What?” Bucky bit the inside of his cheek to hide his amusement. He was trying not to laugh. Who would have thought that a notorious criminal like Pietro and a queen of con artists like Wanda would have such a sweet and innocent relative?

“If I had gotten caught, I would have faced at least forty days of community service.”

“True.”

“But thanks to you, I didn’t get caught.”

“That’s also true.”

“So I thought, if you don’t mind, I could do something for you for forty days? After all, you’re a retired soldier. It would technically be a public service, right? Plus, I’d be showing my gratitude for your help, and I could sleep easy at night knowing my conscience is clear?”

Besides, I can see you every day. The girl kept this thought to herself and tried hard to hide her excitement.

If someone else had asked this, Bucky would have shouted them away from his house until the last breath of air in his lungs was gone, but Luna… Her delicate nature combined with her honesty made him wonder how someone like her could survive in this century. What twenty-two-year-old girl would return to someone as terrifying as Bucky to pay off her debts? She wondered if Pietro knew about how delicate his daughter? The man lived in a world where the weak were prey. How was he supposed to protect Luna?

"Sergeant Barnes?"

Bucky snapped out of his thoughts. "Alright. You’re hired, little one. You’re my slave for the next forty days. And if you call me Sergeant Barnes again, I’ll make you regret being born."

The girl jumped as the door slammed in her face. A slave for forty days? Hey, she had plans to bake some cookies and help Bucky with his shopping list! What had she gotten herself into?

Well, for the past ten days, all she had done was cook and endure the grumpy Bucky. If she could last another month, she’d have repaid her debt to him.

She opened the door and followed the Bucky to his kitchen. "It’s my birthday tonight." Luna placed the tiny invitation card she had drawn herself next to the casserole.

"A little socializing might be nice, James."

Bucky chuckled and, as if he didn’t already know, asked her age. "How old are you now, munchkin?"

Luna grinned and, as she left the kitchen, said, "I don’t know about you, but I'm feeling twenty-two." Then she walked out of the house.

[magnolia-miraculous]

M. Dupain-Cheng (aka Ladybug) Headcanons <3

Honestly she’s just a lil clumsy dummy and I love her lol. Nothing more to say, just that.

She used to do ballet when she was little. She was in the same class as Chloé (and Adrien). She used to make fun of her for being clumsy however, and this transferred over into academic school.

She really likes tea. Jasmine’s her favorite.

She also really likes gardening; she hangs out at a garden top building she knows a lot.

I retcon that a lot of the plants she has growing on her roof are actually herbs and stuff.

Lots and lots of basil.

She knows flower language and has a few books on it.

She rlly loves candles but barely ever lights them so she’s got this huge assortment of brand new candles sitting around in her room.

Tbh she does this a lot.

She has a huge collection of stationary that she never uses. She just has to get them when she sees them.

She has gel pens and post-it’s and stickers galore. It can’t be constituted but she does.

Also doesn’t really color traditionally often; she just does a lot of sketching and drawing in pen and pencil for the most part.

On the other hand, she’s an expert at digital color.

Did y’all see the Jagged Stone album??

Her parents didn’t let her have a sewing machine until she was like 12 bc yikes automated sharp thing.

Thus, she’s rlly good at sewing by hand.

There was a long period however where nearly all of her fingers were constantly covered in bandaids bc she kept sticking herself; she could have just used thimbles but honestly they just made it rlly hard.

At one point she figured out that preliminarily putting on bandaids prevented any sort of actual hurt and she began to do so, replacing the ones that had fallen off each time she went to sew again.

She’ll stick her tongue out when she’s concentrated on drawing or will make the facial expression she’s trying to portray.

Really good at pretty much anything creative that she tries her hand at. Drawing? Great. Fashion? The best. Jewelry making? Like a pro.

She uses mascara and gets into using different colors like pink n stuff.

Eyeliner that could kill a man.

She still has all of her old stuffed animals bc she was too attached to them to give them away.

She doesn’t really listen to rap music too much but she can rap rlly rlly fast which is a surprise given how much she stutters n stuff.

She can wrap the entirety of fergalicious on request.

Both of her parents unironically listen to bring me to life by evanescence and it’s subtlely driving her insane.

She’s French, Italian, and Chinese, but is like 4% aware of her own cultures.

Like, she’s not entirely French but she has no idea what’s going on in the Italian and Chinese scenes rn?? The cultural identity crisis is real lmao.

Also she calls it “patsa”. She couldn’t pronounce it as a kid for some reason and never bothered to stop. Her parents think it’s funny.

Also also Marinette is the daughter of the best baker in Paris but she’d give an arm and a leg for Little Debbie’s cakes and Hostess snacks (like zebra cakes and cosmic brownies and cherry pies and marshmallow/cream filled crap).

She eats a lot of them as of becoming ladybug bc she can afford to tbh.

Her parents chalk it up to puberty + the runs she’s been going on lately.

Hint: the runs are to cover up how she’s actually getting as fit as she is.

Sometimes Forgets to Hide her Strength and will Pick Up people or Heavy Things.

Adrien would be embarrassed to admit that he actually liked it when Marinette Carried him once.

The class secretly shares photos of her Forgetting and Picking Up.

Also, after becoming Ladybug, for some reason, flowers and plants seem to be a lot easier to care for now.

She could forget to water her basil for a week and it’s still as big and bright as ever??

This bouquet should have wilted two weeks ago?? Cut flowers literally never last this long??

Those weren’t supposed to bloom for another two weeks?? Those weren’t supposed to bloom at all??

She’s basically her own little cell tower too. Need a better connection? Go stand by Marinette.

Flexibility is insane. Also reflexes.

If you catch her by surprise, you will be thrown.

Marinette will literally talk shit abt Chat Noir and then someone will simply agree with a lil mhm or a yeah and she’ll turn around and give dozens of counterpoints to what she was just saying two seconds ago and absolutely go for the throat and slaughter them for ever even thinking about saying anything bad about Chat Noir like that like the audacity.

She keeps all the flowers he gives her as Ladybug and presses them and puts them in this giant, heavy ahh archaic lookin book she has lying around.

Tbh even she doesn’t know where it came from but yk, flowers :)

No but actually she doesn’t question it nearly as much as she should.

Or at all. Marinette what is that thing.

We all know that she thinks of her role as Ladybug and her powers as a responsibility more so than an escape like Adrien does, but I like to think that at some point (maybe after the Santa Claws incident?), she loosens up about it and begins to understand Chat’s pov on the miraculous. Obviously, she still thinks of it as something not for personal use, but she’s more open to wandering.

Sometimes when she can’t sleep (particularly because of superhero-related stress), she’ll sneak out to find a nice place to sit and look out on the city, letting the drowned-out ambience lull her to sleep.

Sometimes on cold nights, she’ll bring a blanket or a jacket or something. She also likes bringing her sketchbook.

She’s more than once awoken to the sun on her face, on the roof of a building after accidentally dozing off and had to rush home.

We love her 💞💞 ok that’s it, bye.

[bobbyfiend]

An indie band trying to make it big in their medium-sized city. They have a quirky indie band name like That Weird Dark Hairy Thing We Saw Under The Freeway That One time. It's just a fun thing. People comment on how silly but memorable it is.

Then they start to get kind of big. They play shows. The lead singer finds themself saying things like, "Hello, Altoona! We are That Weird Dark Hairy Thing We Saw Under The Freeway That One time!"

And then the lead singer--all of them, actually--thinks for two seconds, Am I that thing? The thing we saw? Because they did see it. All of them. In third grade, out exploring parts of their town their parents had said were off-limits. In the twilight they saw it, and it terrified and discomfited them in ways they couldn't explain and couldn't forget. They had biked home as fast as their big-kid legs could carry them.

That was over a decade ago. They never spoke of it, but they all knew, and they were reminded every time they played for a new audience. Every time, they individually wondered, Is that what it was? It was me? I am the thing?

And then the drummer would count off One, Two, Three, Four, and they would sing a song like "Debbie and Jimmy Kissed in Cleveland."

[ailendolin]

Thanktival 2022 - Day 9 - Yonderland

Title: Decorations [AO3]

Characters: Alvin, Voltari & Dissectus

Prompt: Hurt/Comfort (and Decorations from Day 8)

Summary: Voltari and Dissectus have never celebrated Thanktival before. Alvin convinces them to give it a try.

A/N: Set in an AU where Voltari and Dissectus changed sides and helped Debbie and the Elders defeat Cuddly Dick.

————

Decorations

“Oh – there you are!” Alvin said, stopping mid-step in the hallway outside of the kitchen as he caught sight of Dissectus and Voltari out of the corner of his eye. The boxes of tinsel and Chompus decorations he was carrying wobbled precariously in his arms but luckily didn’t fall. “What are you two doing here?”

Voltari and Dissectus exchanged an amused glance before Dissectus held up the mug in his hand. “Drinking tea.”

Alvin resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Yeah, I can see that. What I meant was: why aren’t you decorating the Chamber with mum and dad and the others?”

The look Voltari and Dissectus exchanged this time held no more amusement. Neither of them would quite meet Alvin’s eyes when Voltari said quietly, “We didn’t want to be in the way.”

“In the way?” Alvin asked with a frown. He marched into the room and carefully placed the boxes on the table before he turned to Voltari. “Why would you be in the way? The more, the merrier – that’s what mum always says. She loves this kind of stuff, you know? Decorating, having everyone she loves around her …”

He trailed off uncertainly when he saw Voltari’s fingers tighten around his mug. A little helplessly, he turned towards Dissectus. “I … I don’t understand. Don’t you like Thanktival?”

The thought seemed preposterous. Everyone loved Thanktival! It was as good as written.

“Overlords don’t celebrate Thanktival, kid,” Dissectus said after a heavy pause. “For us it’s just another day of the year.”

Alvin’s heart fell. “So you’ve never–?”

“No,” Dissectus said with a shake of his head. He glanced at Voltari. “It wasn’t allowed.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Voltari confirmed softly. His eye was glued to the mug in the same way his hands seemed to be. “I once asked my father if we could decorate the fortress for Thanktival. I was … four years old at the time, perhaps; five at most. He had taken me into town earlier that day and all the other houses had looked so pretty with the lights and decorations that I thought it would be nice if our home looked like that too – warm and cosy, you know? My father laughed straight in my face and threatened to feed me to the wolves if I ever so much as mentioned Thanktival again. So that was the end of that.”

He heaved a heavy sigh and readjusted his hold on his mug but did not move to take a sip. Alvin glanced at Dissectus, unsure of what to do, but he had the same forlorn and faraway look in his eyes that Voltari had so Alvin decided to follow his mum’s advice for situations like this – “Always trust your heart, my son.” He closed the distance between Voltari and him and wrapped his arms around him in a hug. After all, hugs always made him feel better when he was sad.

“I am sorry,” he whispered into Voltari’s shoulder, meaning every word.

It took a moment but eventually hands tentatively settled on his shoulders, hugging him back. “Thank you, Alvin. It’s not your fault but – thank you.”

Alvin smiled to himself and let the hug last a moment longer before he leaned back a little so he could look Voltari in the eye. “I obviously can’t change the past but … I could show you how to celebrate Thanktival? If you’d like? My dad learned so you could too!”

He glanced between Voltari and Dissectus, unsure if his offer would be welcome. Some wounds simply ran too deep to be healed properly – another wisdom his mum had once shared with him. Alvin hoped this particular wound wouldn’t be one of them.

“We really wouldn’t want to intrude, Alvin,” Voltari said quietly. “Your mother said this is a time for family and–”

“Exactly!” Alvin interrupted him. “You’re both family now so you should be there!”

Voltari blinked at him, looking at a loss. He was usually a quiet man but Alvin didn’t think he’d ever seen him speechless before. He wasn’t quite sure if this was a good sign or a bad one until Dissectus asked in a surprisingly gentle voice, “What do you say, Tari? Want to give this whole Thanktival business another try?”

His eyes were soft and there was a small, quiet smile tugging at his lips as he gazed at Voltari from across the table. Alvin had the feeling a whole conversation was happening between them without a single word being said, and he couldn’t deny that a part of him was really curious about what they weren’t saying. Both Dissectus and Voltari were incredibly private people and rarely talked so openly about their past as Voltari had done a moment ago. Most of the things Alvin knew about them he’d either heard from his mum or inferred from glances or involuntary reactions and he was desperate to get to know them better. Thanktival seemed the perfect place to start so he gave Voltari the best puppy dog eyes he could manage and said, “Please, Voltari. Say yes.”

Voltari huffed out a laugh that was just a little bit shaky. “No wonder your parents always let you have your way. You’re a menace, little one.”

Alvin did his best not to grin in triumph. “Does that mean you’ll help us decorate?”

“Yes,” Voltari said, sounding a little exasperated though Alvin was sure that was more for show than genuine irritation. He pushed himself up from his chair and reached for one of the boxes. “Someone has to keep you from breaking your neck trying to carry all these boxes, after all. I can’t believe your mum sent you off on your own to get all of this.”

“Oh, that was Uncle Choop, actually. He sent Uncle Trevor with me but–“

“No arms,” Dissectus said wryly as he picked up two of the boxes and placed them under one arm. “Why am I not surprised?”

Alvin shrugged and happily claimed the last box full of tinsel. “You’ll get used to it. Come on, let’s go!”

He skipped a little ahead, having a feeling they might like a moment alone and sure enough, once he’d rounded a corner and they believed him to be out of earshot Dissectus stopped in the middle of the hallway and said very softly, “You know you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, Tari.”

There was a pause and Alvin glanced cautiously around the corner. The last thing he wanted was for Voltari to feel forced to celebrate Thanktival with them – that hadn’t been his intention at all.

What he saw immediately put his worries at ease. Voltari was smiling up at Dissectus – just like Alvin’s mum always smiled at his dad when she thought no one was looking. There was nothing forced about the gentle happiness in his eyes when he said, “You heard the kid – we’re family.”

Dissectus’s eyes softened. For a brief moment that made Alvin hold his breath, he reached up to touch Voltari’s face. “I guess we are.”

When Voltari closed his eye and leaned into the touch, Alvin began to wonder if this might be the moment they would finally–

“Alvin?” he heard his Uncle Choop suddenly call from down the corridor. “Is that you I can hear dawdling in the hallway?”

Alvin did his best to muffle his groan when the moment was broken and Dissectus’s hand fell from Voltari’s face. They had been so close! Maybe he should ask Debbie about that mistletoe thing that made people kiss the next time she visited. Surely a little nudge in the right direction couldn’t hurt – and Alvin was pretty sure that was all they needed: a nudge. With that thought in mind, he grinned up at Voltari and Dissectus when they caught up to him before he took a deep breath and called down the hallway, “I’m not dawdling, Uncle Choop! I’m bringing reinforcements!”