#i started this back in february before abandoning her oops
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red lotus grave
#my art#erha#2ha#äşĺĺäťçç˝çŤĺ¸ĺ°#mo ran#chu wanning#mo ran 0.5#taxian jun#ranwan#txj: wake up.... wake up darling.... if you don't wake up i'm going to waterboard you hahhaah darLING WAKE UP#cwn is blue cuz he's a corpse. btw#please zoom in on the lily pads because i wasted a lifetime on them#also not inspired by the vol 3 art they just happened to be similar#i started this back in february before abandoning her oops
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A Telling Proposal
The event is over, so I can officially post this here now. Just some good old LadyNoir/Adrinette fluff which if you were paying attention to this blog in February, I did talk about LadyNoir a lot so when I abandoned my original idea, this was the one that hit me next, and with everything going on with my grandma (who died 2 days before I published this originally) I just wanted something light, easy, and fun.Â
Read on AO3
âI have a proposal for you.â
Ladybugâs eyes narrowed on her partner as he leaned against his staff to be level with her face. There was a smugness in his expression that told her she wasnât going to like what came next, so it shouldnât have come as a surprise to him when she sighed and said, âNo, I will not marry you.â
âHa-ha, thatâsâŚnot what I was going to ask,â he said, averting his gaze briefly before flashing her one of those boyish grins. âThis time.â She rolled her eyes and waved an arm for him to continue. âWell, you and I canât know anything about each otherâŚâ
âCorrect,â she said with a nod, crossing her arms over her chest.
âSo, Iâve been thinkingâŚWe canât even do stuff like celebrate each otherâs birthdays, so what if we picked a day and designated it as our birthday-day?â He said, beaming when she didnât immediately shoot him down.
âYou want to pick a random day to celebrate both of our birthdays?â She asked for clarification, mask raising to one side.
âYes.â He nodded.
She drummed her fingers, considering it a moment before shrugging. âAlright. What day?â
âHow about this Saturday? We can get each other gifts, have cake, watch the lights, talk.â He shrugged. âAnything we want. Itâs our birthday.â
âOkay, sounds fun,â she said, lips curling into a smile.
âWait, really?â His ears stood up straight in surprise.
âYeah, I think itâs a good idea. Iâve thought about asking when your birthday is before, but I didnât want to learn anything that could give away your identity,â she said, turning to face him fully. âIâve wanted to get you a gift for a while, but weâve never had the time.â A smile tugged on his lips, and she averted her gaze, cheeks burning. âItâs not a big deal. Youâre my friend, so of course Iâd want to get you a birthday gift.â
âRight,â Chat said, though his expression was far too smug for her liking. âSo, Saturday then?â
She pursed her lips, contemplating it a moment, and nodded. âSaturday.â
***
Adrien stared out the window of his town car with a pensive frown. When heâd suggested their joint birthday, he hadnât actually expected her to be so receptive to it, and he had to admit, he was caught a little off guard. Sure, he was excited that sheâd approved the idea, but that left him with a bigger problem: he didnât know what to get her as a gift.
Normally, he could think of a thousand romantic ideas, but this time he was coming up empty. Should he buy her a gift? Or make her a gift like he did for Marinette? Should he write her a poem? Or maybe get her a gag gift? No, that would be lame. What did Ladybug even like?
His chest clenched.
What did Ladybug like? He didnât really know. Video games? What type of perfume did she wear normally? Did she like makeup? This was worse than he thought. All this time he thought he knew Ladybug, but the truth remained that she really kept a lot of things about herself hidden. The curse of secret identities.
Maybe he should just keep his gift general and pick something that any girl would like. After all, Ladybug made it clear that this was strictly a platonic endeavor. But what did girls like from boys that are just friends? Especially boys that you care about deeply who would risk their life for you but in a totally platonic way? He needed advice.
But from who? Chloe? No. Sheâd probably grill him about why he was getting a gift for someone other than her. Alya might just grill him in general. He needed someone he could trust. Someone likeâŚ
Marinette!
Black pigtails bounced up the stairs as the car rolled to a stop, and Adrien hopped out, racing to catch up to her. Marinette was the perfect person to ask. She was like a master gift-giver.
âHey, Marinette!â He placed a hand on her shoulder, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. âOops, my bad. Guess I should have warned you.â He rubbed the back of his neck. âI need a favor.â
âA favor? For why? I mean- why? Whatâs up?â She asked, blinking several times.
âWell, I have aâŚfriend, and I want to get her a gift for her birthday, but I donât really know what to get her. Youâre really good at giving gifts, so what do you think I should get her?â He asked, and she relaxed, a smile curling on her lips that helped ease some of Adrienâs own nerves. Marinette had a way of doing that.
âOh. Well, what does she like?â His shoulders tensed at that.
âUh, well, I donât really know,â he said with a wince. âI was hoping you could give me some advice on some stuff girls like in general?â
âHmm, who is she?â Marinette asked, but at his hesitance she added, âOr who is she to you?â
âSheâs justâŚa friend. A good friend. Someone that I kind of hope to be more than friends with some day,â he said, cheeks warming, and he cleared his throat. âI want to get her something that sheâll love, but I donât really know what that is.â
âIs it Kagami?â Marinette asked, and Adrien blinked, wondering how she could have come to that conclusion. Then again, he remembered not too long ago asking for Marinetteâs help taking Kagami on a date, so he conceded that it was a fair assumption for her to make.
âNo. Itâs not Kagami,â he said which seemed to perplex her more, and he knew he had to be careful with his words. âItâs for someone I work with. You donât know her.â
âOkay,â she said slowly, pursing her lips. âWell, whenever I give someone a gift, I make sure that itâs personal to that individual. Like for Alya I made her a new case for her phone and for Rose I knit some pink mittens.â
Well, there went his general idea.
âDo you think I should make her something?â His eyes widened, and Marinette held up reassuring hands when he blanched.
âIt doesnât have to be hand-made, but it should be something from your heart that you know she will like,â she said, but it didnât help. âTell you what. Why donât we go shopping after school? Iâll help you pick something out.â
âThanks, Marinette. Youâre a life saver,â he said, pressing his palms together in an expression of gratitude.
He had to admit that having Marinetteâs assistance did calm a lot of his nerves about the situation. With her helping, he was bound to find the perfect gift for Ladybug. Plus it meant he got to spend more time with Marinette which was always a win in his book.
âSo, where do you think we should start?â He asked as Gorilla strolled slowly up the street. âShould I buy her clothes?â
âDo you know her size?â Marinette asked, and he pursed his lips, conceding her point. She paused outside the jewelry store and pointed inside. âYou want this gift to tell your feelings for her, right? So, come pick out something that makes you think of her.â
âWellâŚâ He rubbed the back of his neck. âI guess, I mean, she only sees me as a friend, so do you really think I should buy her something like that?â
âYou want to be more than friends someday, right?â Marinette asked, and his cheeks warmed. âFollow your heart.â
It was solid advice considering his head was a frantic mess, but what did his heart want? To get her something sheâd love. Something that conveyed how much he cared about her. Something that would make her think about him whenever she saw it.
Marinette was browsing bracelets when he approached her, and she straightened, giving him an encouraging smile as he held up a golden heart-shaped locket. The front was encrusted with a ruby that reminded him of her suit, and Marinetteâs eyes lit up when she saw it.
âAdrien, itâs beautiful. Sheâll love it,â she said, clasping her hands over her chest.
âAre you sure? Itâs not too much?â He asked, but she placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
âItâs perfect, and if itâs what your heart picked out then thereâs no way she wonât like it,â she said with a confidence he tried to grasp for himself.
He took a deep breath, glancing down at the locket once more and nodding. âOkay. Youâre right. Itâll be perfect.â He smiled back up at her. âThanks again for your help. I was feeling really lost about all of this.â
âAny time. Weâre friends, arenât we?â She said, lowering her gaze to her shoes and clasping her hands behind her back. âWell, good luck with your gift. Let me know how it goes, okay?â
âI will,â he said as she moved for the door. âMarinette?â
âYeah?â She paused in the threshold, turning back to face him and tilting her head to the side.
âIâm really glad to have an amazing friend like you,â he said, and something flashed on her face that he couldnât quite read. She seemed sad almost, but just as quickly as it came, she covered it up with a smile.
âYeah, me too.â
***
Ladybug stared out across the rooftops, twirling the ribbon of her gift around one finger. She hadnât been able to focus ever since she helped Adrien pick out a gift for his mystery girl. Alya was joking about having her admitted for being such a space cadet, but she couldnât help it. Adrien was going to give that locket to some beautiful model then they were going to get married, have beautiful model babies and move to private island then Marinette would never see him again. Sheâd die all alone with her fifty cats and a hamster named-
âLadybug?â Chat waved his hand in front of her face, and she blinked.
âHow long have you been calling my name?â She asked with a wince.
âI dunno. 15-20 seconds?â He shrugged, and her stomach did a little flip. âYou okay?â
âYeah, sorry. I had aâŚlong week,â she said, rubbing the back of her neck. âLots of homework. Hawkmoth making akumas every day. Juggling a double life. You know how it is.â She gestured around to the streamers sheâd hung up between chimneys. âPlus, I set all this up for us.â
âYou really liked this birthday idea,â he said, sounding a bit too smug as he leaned down into her face, so she flicked his bell.
âEveryone likes birthdays. Anyone who doesnât like birthdays is a monster,â she said pointedly. âBut I will admit, it was kind of fun decorating our cake.â
âOh? Mâlady baked me a birthday cake? Iâm honored.â He waggled his eyebrows, and she shoved his shoulder with a laugh.
âJust a small one,â she said.
âAnd itâs not burnt?â He asked, mask lifting to one side, and her jaw dropped.
âIâm a very good baker, thank you very much!â She crossed her arms over her chest as his shoulders shook with laughter. âFine. Donât eat any of it then.â
âWait, no! I want it. Iâm really happy,â he said, holding up apologetic hands.
Ladybug rolled her eyes and paced over to retrieve the cake from the white unmarked box sitting on an orange crate. She had to go to two different stores to find a box that wouldnât give her away, and explaining to her dad why he couldnât see the cake she was baking was a whole other situation in and of itself. She just hoped that Chat Noir wouldnât be too suspicious of her. Maybe she should have added too much vanilla to the frosting. Curse her years of bakery experience!
âWhoa,â Chat gasped when she pulled the cake from the box. Sheâd drawn their faces in the frosting, and the lettering was perfect if she did say so herself. A little too perfect, actually. âYou made this yourself?â
âEveryone has hobbies, chaton,â she said as nonchalantly as possible, and fortunately, he seemed to accept it.
âOh, can I light the candles?â He asked, bouncing like a kid who really should not be trusted with matches.
âJust donât burn the building down. I donât think the business below will appreciate it,â she said, offering him the box and doing her best not to laugh when he stuck his tongue out as he passed the flame over each wick.
âReady?â He grinned, the flickering light casting shadows across his face as they started to sing.
When the song finished, they blew out the candles in unison, and Chat flashed her his signature boyish grin.
âJoyeux anniversaire, mâlady,â he said, lifting her hand to his lips.
âJoyeux anniversaire, Chat Noir,â Ladybug replied. âCake first or presents?â
âIâm dying to try your cooking,â he said, bouncing on his heels. âBut I think I want to give you my gift first.â
âOkay,â Ladybug said with a smile, retrieving her gift and holding it out to him.
âOh, I wonder what mâlady got me,â Chat said, shaking the neatly wrapped box before carefully ripping the bow. He removed a hand-knit black beanie with cat ears and turned it over in his hands with a grin. âWow, did you make this too?â
âI- watched a tutorial. Iâm not great at knitting, but I think itâs best if a gift comes from the heart,â she said, rubbing the back of her neck.
âThis looks so well made. I think youâve uncovered a hidden talent, mâlady,â he said, pulling the hat over his ears. âMaybe next time you can knit me a blanket, and we can snuggle.â
Ladybug let out a breathy laugh as he leaned into her face and waggled his brows, pushing his nose away. âDare I ask what you got me?â
Chat retrieved a small square box wrapped in red paper from his belt and held it out to her with a cheeky grin. She turned it over in her hands, the contents inside rattling, and shrugged, tearing away the paper. When she lifted the lid, her jaw dropped but snapped shut again as her stomach jumped up to her throat. Inside was a small golden locket embezzled with a ruby. The same locket sheâd helped Adrien pick out two days ago. Which meant that either this locket was popular, or-
âDo you like it?â He asked, looking up at her through his lashes.
She knew that look all too well. It was the same shy, wanting-to-be-accepted look sheâd seen Adrien give so many times. She had that look on posters on her wall. Sheâd always known Chatâs smile was a little too perfect to be normal. Now she knew why.
âItâs-â Your identity.
Granted, it wasnât his fault. After all, what were the odds? It wasnât like heâd done it on purpose. He just wanted to make sure she liked whatever he got her, so he asked a friend for advice. He didnât know that she was that very same friend he was buying said gift for! Oh, and Adrien had been so worried about getting the perfect giftâŚ
âItâs beautiful, chaton. Thank you,â she said finally, trailing her fingers over the jewel.
He breathed a sigh of relief, but Ladybug tensed more with each passing second. Adrien was Chat Noir. Adrien the-love-of-her-life Agreste was Chat Noir. Which meant she was in love with Chat Noir.
This wasnât happening. Should she tell him? No. WellâŚmaybe? What if he wasnât really Adrien, and it was all a coincidence? It could be a coincidence, right? Then if she told him how she knew, heâd know her identity. Her head was spinning.
âDo you want me to help you put it on?â He asked, his voice more subdued and timid than she was used to, and when she flicked her gaze back to him, he looked every bit Adrien with one hand cupping the back of his neck.
âI- yes. Sorry, I justâŚIâve never gotten something like this before,â she admitted, turning around as Chat draped the necklace over her head. âItâs really beautiful.â
âI gotta confess. I was really nervous about buying you a gift. It made me realize how little I know about you,â he said, fastening the clasp. âI asked a good friend of mine for help because I wanted everything to be perfect.â She turned to face him, his eyes warm and soft. âYou mean the world to me, Ladybug, and I wanted you to know that.â
âChat, I-â
âI know. You love someone else,â he said, lowering his gaze to his shoes. âI envy him every day, and I hope he realizes how lucky he is.â
Ladybug searched his expression as he smiled down at her, her heart hammering in her chest. Adrien was in love with her. Sheâd been rejecting him for months. Oh, how she just wanted to fall of that roof, but true to form, she panicked and hugged him to hide her face before it could betray her.
âYou mean the world to me too, you know,â she said, nuzzling into his shoulder. âYouâre my best friend.â
âI know,â he sighed, leaning into her embrace. âAnd you have no idea how happy that makes me.â He pulled away, his signature playful smirk returning. Â âBut if you loved me back, Iâd buy you pretty necklaces all the time. As many as you wanted.â
She flicked his bell with a laugh. If only he knew. And he could know. She could tell him. Should she? She didnât know. Adrien was Chat Noir.
âThank you for indulging me tonight. Iâll cherish your gift forever,â he said, lifting her hand to his lips, and she hated how hot her cheeks got when he pressed a soft kiss to her fingers.
âThis is fun. Weâll have to do it again next year,â she said, biting her lip.
âHappy Birthday, Ladybug.â
âYeah. Happy Birthday, chaton.â
***
âWhat am I gonna do, Tikki?â Marinette flopped onto her bed and buried her face into her pillow. âIâm not supposed to know Adrien is Chat Noir.â
âWell, there isnât much you can do to take it back now,â Tikki said pointedly, and Marinette let out a groan.
âDo you think I should take his Miraculous?â She lifted her head, eyebrows knit together in a worried frown.
âDo you think you should?â
âWellâŚâ She sat up and moved the pillow to her lap, picking at loose threads. âItâs the rule, butâŚI canât imagine being Ladybug without Chat Noir. Putting aside the fact that heâs the boy I love, Chat Noir is my friend, my partner. I trust him.â
âYou are the guardian now, Marinette, so knowing his identity isnât a bad thing,â Tikki said, floating over to sit on the pillow. âAnd you two work so well together.â
âYeah, but what if I get flustered around him now that I know heâs really Adrien? What if I get distracted, or try to kiss him, or-â She covered her face with her hands. âI donât want him to stop being Chat Noir, but now I canât stop thinking about his identity and how heâs the boy that IâŚyou know. I mean, should I tell him I know? I should tell him, right?â
âIf you think itâs a good ide-â
âBut what if I tell him and then he wants to know my identity? I mean, it would only be fair since I know his. And if I tell him my identity, what if he gets distracted. Well, more distracted than usual,â she said, clutching fistfuls of her hair. âWhat if he comes to visit my balcony as Chat Noir because heâs in love with me and then Hawkmoth sees him then Hawkmoth will know Iâm the guardian, and heâll get the Miracle Box, Paris will be doomed, and Iâll be the worst Ladybug in the history of Ladybug!â
âMarinette,â Tikki chided as her chosen fell back onto the mattress. âYou always think too much. Iâm sure everything will be fine no matter what you decide to do. You said it yourself that Chat Noir is your friend and you trust him, and you know that Adrien is a good guy too. Trust yourself to make the right decision.â
âYeah, but what if I mess up? What ifâŚI get it wrong again?â She flicked her gaze over to her hidden compartment that housed the Miracle Box.
âThen youâll definitely want Chat Noir to have your back, right?â Tikki said, and Marinette gave her a small smile.
âYeah. Definitely,â she said, taking a deep breath. âThanks, Tikki. Iâll sleep on it and make a decision in the morning.â
âThatâs a great idea,â Tikki said, flitting over to her spot as Marinette turned out the light and laid down. âGood night, Marinette. I know youâll make the right choice.â
âYeahâŚâ Marinette hummed, picking at the golden locket around her neck.
Itâs what she was hoping.
***
The following Monday, Marinette climbed the stairs of the school slower than usual. Sheâd made up her mind, but she couldnât help questioning whether or not it was the right choice. Adrien deserved to know that his identity was compromised, and telling him her own identity felt fair. But was she telling him because of her feelings for him or because she actually felt like it was the right decision? That fact was yet to be determined. She just hoped she could find the words.
A mop of blond hair was hunched over a locker, shuffling through a silver shoulder bag, and Marinette took a deep breath. She could do this. It was just Chat Noir. She talked to him all the time. He was her best friend. He was going to be ecstatic to finally learn her identity. This was for the good of their partnership. She hoped.
âAdrien?â She called, her voice timid and unsure, and she flinched as he turned over his shoulder.
âMarinette!â A smile broke over his lips. âThanks so much for your help the other day. My friend liked the gift.â
âOh, thatâs awesome!â She said, feigning enthusiasm. âActually, I was hoping to talk to you about that. Do you have a minute?â
âSure, whatâs up?â He asked, those green eyes calm and unassuming. He didnât have a care in the world unlike the quiet storm brewing inside Marinette.
âUm, itâs kind of private. Can we talk somewhere else?â She said, glancing around the other students filing in and out of the locker room. Adrien seemed confused but didnât question it as he followed Marinette to a secluded corner of the courtyard.
âWhatâs up?â He asked, and she took a deep breath.
âOkay, I know this is going to be a big shock, so please donât freak out, butâŚI know youâre Chat Noir,â she said, and Adrienâs eyebrows raised.
âWhat? You think Iâm Chat Noir?â He scoffed, shifting his weight. âI mean, Iâm flattered, but-â
His voice trailed off when Marinette pulled the locket from inside her shirt, and she curled her shoulders with a sigh.
âIâm so sorry. I had no idea who you were buying it for. If I had known it was going to give away your identity, I never would have agreed to help,â she said. âBut what were the odds?â
âWait,â Adrien said, blinking a couple times and tilting his head to the side. âLadybug?â
âHi, kitty.â She gave a small wave, biting her lip, and she expected him to break down. To panic. To do anything but lift her off her feet and spin her around. âAdrien!â
He twirled in circles, laughing and smiling before abruptly dipping her and touching his forehead to hers. âItâs you!â
âAdrien,â she hissed, giving a nervous glance at the other students in the courtyard, and he pulled her upright again, though his hands never strayed from her waist.
âItâs really been you all along,â he said, a dopey grin, crinkling his eyes. âYouâve been so close to me all this time.â
âAdrien.â
âYouâre my bugaboo.â
âDonât call me that out in the open!â She clamped a hand over his mouth, feeling her cheeks flush under that affectionate green gaze.
âBut this makes perfect sense. Youâre so smart, and you always look out for others. Of course, youâre Ladybug,â he said, smacking his forehead as if he should have realized sooner. One of his signature impish grins curled on his lips, and Marinette quickly learned just how much Chat Noir there really was in Adrien as he said, âSo, what are you doing tomorrow night? Wanna see a movie?â
âSeriously? Just like that youâre in love with Marinette?â She gave him a look.
âWell, yeah.â He shrugged, and she felt her annoyance flaring. 72 hours ago, she would have killed to hear Adrien say he loved her, but now she felt a little offended.
âWhy? Just because Iâm you-know-who now?â She crossed her arms over her chest, and Adrien seemed to realize her point.
âItâs not like that,â he assured her, green eyes softening and working a sort of voodoo magic over her that she couldnât quite resist no matter how hard she tried. âThe way I see itâŚLadybug is you. All of the crazy schemes, the brains, the heroism, the compassion, the kindness, everything about Ladybug that I fell in love with comes from you, Marinette. Because thatâs who you are. So, yeah, just like that.â
She had to admit, it was hard to stay mad at someone so cute. Especially when he was looking at her with such fondness and adoration. Sheâd been trying to ignore her feelings this whole time. To listen to her head instead of her heart, but in a lot of ways, it had been just like that for her too.
All of a sudden, the giant question mark that was Adrien had become so clear to her. He became familiar. Safe. Comfortable. Her partner. Her friend. Her kitty. The boy who had once seemed so out of reach had become so close in the blink of an eye, and now he stood before her less than a meter away, heart open and willing if she would only reach out and grab it.
âI guess Iâm free,â she said, pursing her lips, and Adrienâs face lit up.
âReally?â He asked, and she nodded. âWait, really, really?â
âYes,â she laughed, and his eyes did that thing again. âAm I going to have to put up with you hitting on me twice as much now?â
âOf course.â He grinned, and she let out a sigh, looking him up and down.
âAnd what are you going to do if I flirt back one of these days?â She quirked a brow.
âDie of happiness,â he said. âWait, is that a possibility?â
âWell,â she hummed, biting back a smile. âThe boy I was in love with all this timeâŚIt was you.â
âYes!â He exclaimed, and Marinette shushed him into lowering his voice. âThis just proves it. You and I are meant to be together. Weâre going to be unstoppable. Weâll defeat Hawkmoth, get married, live together in a beautiful cottage with kids and a hamster named-â
Marinette silenced him with a kiss, taking his hands and swinging them back and forth when she pulled away. Adrien let out a dreamy sigh, lips glued into a smile, and at her laugh, he straightened his shoulders.
âCan I ask you something?â
âIf itâs to marry you, I think we should at least wait until weâre out of school,â she said, flicking his nose playfully.
âNo, that question will come in time.â He waved it away then rubbed the back of his neck. âI was just thinkingâŚThis birthday thing made me realize how little I know about Ladybug, and I do know a bit more about Marinette, but not as much as Iâd like, soâŚI want to get to know you, Marinette. Iâve always wanted to.â
âOkay,â she said. âOn one condition: I want to get to know Adrien Agreste better too.â
âDeal.â He gave her hands a squeeze, and she bit her lip.
âSo, what do you want to know?â She asked, and a smile stretching across his cheeks.
âEverything.â
#miraculous ladybug#marinette dupain-cheng#adrien agreste#ladybug#chat noir#ladynoir#adrinette#reveal fic#my writing#whos who challenge
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( brittany oâgrady / demi woman ) WESLEY McCARRICK is 23 years old and is a SENIOR at thales university. SHE is majoring in FILM and is known for being THE MAVERICK as THEY can be HUMOROUS and OPEN-MINDED as well as DITZY and IMPULSIVE. every time i see HER/THEM, THEY remind me of PURPLE SKY IN THE DESERT, SKATING AS FAST AS YOU CAN TO FEEL THE WIND ON YOU, A JOKE TOLD WITH A TOOTHY GRIN.
heroâs back w character no. 2 and yet......
full name: wesley âwesâ elaine mccarrick
birthdate: february 2, 1997
age: 23
gender: demi woman
pronouns: she/her/they/them
zodiac: aquarius
nationality: american
ethnicity: black (louisiana creole) and white (irish)
hometown: santa fe, nm
languages: english, intermediate spanish
family:
theodore mccarrick, father
elaine barlow, mother
ruby mccarrick, older brother
delphine mccarrick, older sister
sherri barlow, maternal grandmother
many cousins
orientation: bisexual biromantic, pref. towards women/nb people but will date men
religion: agnostic
height: 5 ft 4 in
distinguishing features: eyebrows, hair, lips
character inspo: ilana wexler (broad city), harley quinn (dc comics), phoebe buffay (friends), prob more
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TRIGGERS: divorce, mentions of crime, drug and alcohol use
the youngest child of ted and elaine mccarrick, wes was a kid who is full of life. sheâs the kind of kid who did things to make you smile, and it usually worked. she was warm and inviting, a little naive, but she had a strong support system.
her parents divorce when sheâs six, she doesnât quite understand it but her dad moves out, and her grandma and multiple cousins move in. itâs a lively household, between her mom, who works as a nurse, and her siblings, and her cousins, it was never really quiet and there was never a lot of room.
despite the split, her parents maintain that their children have a relationship with both of them, and truthfully, wes is a daddyâs girl. she and her dad were cut from the same cloth, happy go lucky, fun loving, a bit silly, heâs the one who introduces her to movies. itâs their thing, watching and critiquing them together, and itâs not whatever is in theatres either. they went for all times of filmmaking, new wave, surrealist, and more.
it really stuck with wes, who herself had begun making movies, mostly horror/fantasy/scifi stuff with her friends-- she writes and directs and occasionally, sheâll don a costume and star in them. theyâre silly little things, but her family always sat down for her âpremieres.â
her formative years are marked with plenty of things, sports, deaths of distant family members, a cousin or two who gets caught in the wrong crowd and ends up in jail, and throughout this, wes remains a rock for her family.
sheâs in high school, and she gets into the eclectic crowd, the outcasts, the weirdos, the ones who smoked under the bridge, and partied out in an abandoned trailer near the desert. these freaks were her freaks. they accepted her with open arms, as she them. Â
she chooses thales because she always wants to see the east coast, and frankly, as much as she loves her family, she wants to be free of them. and they have a fantastic film program. so!
she meets steven in their first film class together, and theyâre fast friends, despite her usual weariness of YET another film bro, steven proves to be a good egg. so she thinks. she finds out through him talking that he might not be the most faithful to his girlfriend, and as much as she doesnât like meddling, she thinks itâs only right to let clarissa, who she doesnât really know well, know. however, before thereâs a chance, everything happens-- now sheâs stuck wondering if she should reveal the truth, or let sleeping dogs lie.
nana is different, nana and her dated her sophomore year, nanaâs freshman year. it wasnât serious. but they were fond of each other. they eventually break up, but they stay friendly, waving to each other in the halls, chatting at parties.
both the disappearance and the murder is weird for wes, who by all accounts, isnât great at dealing with bad shit. she prefers to laugh about things. laugh about everything. because if she doesnât laugh, sheâll cry.
đđđđđđđđđđđ
wes is a mess, a free-spirit, a walking contradiction. sheâs very independent minded, the kind of person who does things without thinking so much about the consequences, this leads her into trouble sometimes. like nicking something from a convenience store, or stealing a stop sign as a prank. sheâs definitely the kind to goof off and not exactly dedicate her full attention to something. and while sheâs in genuinely good spirits on most occasions, she has a staunch âno assholeâ policy. the type to defend the underdogs, and go after bullies. sheâll punch you with a smile on her face, and yet it ends up being more unnerving than you realize. sheâs a bit of a ditz, as well, never the best at school, but can talk your ear off about the going ons of the world. sheâs a lovable dumbass, for sure, and loyal to a tee once you get her as a friend.
đđđđđđđ
horror movie fan! her favorites are some of the oldies, like dracula and  the bride of frankenstein! and some new ones! big fan of jordan peeleâs work, as well as ari asterâs! but mostly really advocates for women directors and directors of color!
also does roller derby! she picked this up her first year at thales and fell in love with it, i canât think of a name for her yet, but sheâs a blocker, wonât hesitate to elbow some dick at the bar
kinda a tomboy? sheâs always been! sheâs rough and tumble and not afraid to get down and dirty with someone, i.e. will join those football games on the quad or crawl through the mud for a scene to shoot
doesnât know if she wants to be a director/writer or a cinematographer honestly.... she loves the technical aspects of film as much as the making the stories
definition of a bruh girl, says it a whole lot, but also just if you tell her you love her, sheâll just roll her eyes and be like youâre an idiot (which means she loves you too) sheâll be affectionate if sheâs close to you
kinda a wh*re oops....... texts multiple girls at a time and doesnât want to hurt any of their feelings she doesnât know how she keeps ending up in these situations... also a bisexual disaster
a stoner as well..... always has a massive jar of weed
unclear whether she lives on campus or off campus but if she does live off campus she has a pet turtle named elsa lanchester after the bride of frankenstein actress
a drummer! sheâs in a band (name tbd) she started drumming at a young age and found it was a good way to manage her aggression
doesnât really do well with emotions, so sheâll either be like there, there, or try to make jokes.... she really said kids can you lighten up
walking meme... such a walking meme... doesnât know so many things sheâs like a cute puppy with no thoughts head empty but sheâs so fun to be around
life of the party.... nana she came fr ur spot and she took it and sheâs not sorry but she does miss u a lot
doesnât rly feel like sheâs allowed to be upset anyways bc some people have it...... way worse.... can u say Imposter syndrome
kind of an enabler...... will be that person to push u to try things but not in a peer pressurey way, more like if u are unsure abt sending a text she says do it
wears fun earrings and socks! think lollipops or gummy bears or found objects like she collects that shit itâs her lifeline
boxes! sheâs been boxing since she was abt 12, courtesy of her older brother (who is now a doctor thx ruby) and itâs a good way to exercise and release stress
đđđđđđ đđđđđđđđđđđ
best friend -- two of a feather, cut from the same cloth, or complete opposites it doesnt matter to her (the abbi to her ilana)
roller derby friends -- sheâs p close to the team, margs on her
makeup artist pal -- i think it would be neat fr someone to try and teach her makeup whether its normal or sfx bc she wants to look like a monster or smthn
sheâs gullible, u take advantage of that -- u just tell her lies p much and sheâs like yeah ok that sounds right
party friends
classmates
fwbs (f/m/nb) -- tbh she might have one or two of these but they literally are the def of pals who bone sometimes... like v good abt being like you good? u dont want more? cool me too
exes (f/m/nb) -- mostly dated women or nb people but def cld have had a guy
she smokes you out -- p much the only reason u hang out w her is bc she has good weed
someone sheâs fought -- like fully decked in the face, prob said something that rubbed her the wrong way and it just devolved from there
people who dislike her -- she could definitely be seen as annoying bc shes loud and dorky and funny so ??
breaks someone out of their shell -- p self explanatory, pushes them to have fun, w everything happening shes rly like lifes too short to not take the opportunities around u
cousins! probably on her dadâs side! i figure she has some east coast famÂ
anything? truly?
#pyrrhic.intro#intro.#divorce tw#crime mention#drug use tw#alcohol use tw#i pulled this out of my ass
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Even in Hawkins - Stay Tonight
Part Seven of Even in HawkinsÂ
Billy Hargrove x Reader x Steve HarringtonÂ
Word Count: 1.7k
Warnings: SAD READER, smut!, underage drinking, unprotected sex (just donât do that), 18+ please
After school, Y/n went looking for Billy to return his denim jacket. She spotted him by his car, going outside to talk to him. Another omega ran up and slid under his arms, Y/n able to make her disappear if she were more willing to use her status to her advantage. But she thought it was mean to growl at someone for no reason. She stops in front of Billy, taking him in. He was clearly cold, goosebumps on his exposed chest. âYou want something sunshine?â
âI was gonna ask if you wanted to go to the movies with me and Steve on Friday, but I see you have other plans, so nevermind.â She walked off in a hurry, ignoring him calling after her, her still wearing his jacket. They finish presenting the project the next day, Y/n quiet and only talking to Billy when he spoke to her. Weird.Â
Billy showed up to a party alone on Friday, wanting to get off or get wasted before the end of the night (or stoned, he didnât really care). He grabbed a beer and an omega, pulling her to the dance floor with him, trying to ignore her giggles. She lets him grind on her, Billy not really caring about being neat and letting his beer spill on him when someone bumps into him. It was Y/n. She was wearing a yellow sundress. In February. She was drunk, her stumbling through the crowd like she was looking for someone. He abandoned the omega he was basically humping, her pouting and letting out a shrill whine that pierced his ear drums. âHey, sweetheart.â Billy cooed, grabbing Y/n by the waist. She turned, beaming up at him. âBilly! Youâre here!â
âYeah. You here alone?â
âNo! I came with my friend Samantha. I donât know where she went.â She gave a look around, a concerned expression on her face. She spotted her and waved, Billy chuckling as the equally drunk beta girl waved back. Billy leaned down and nipped her neck, not minding the giggle he got from Y/n. He sucked on her scent gland, her pushing his chest gently. âStop! Youâre gonna leave a mark.â She âscoldedâ, biting her lip. âThatâs the point, princess.â He pulled her closer, lips on her ear. She wrapped her arm around his neck and pulled him down to kiss her, smiling into it. Billy laughed when she jumped, him having squeezed her ass. âScare you, Y/n?â She shook her head, tipping her cup back into her mouth. She dropped the empty cup when someone bumped into them. âOops.â Billy redirected her attention, cupping her jaw and pulling her back into some heavy kisses, her moaning softly when his tongue went in her mouth. âOw! You bit my tongue.â She pouted, hands now on the collar of his leather jacket. He kissed her nose in an apology, hands groping her ass again. âYellowâs your color, baby.â He complimented, stealing a few pecks before forcing his tongue back in her mouth. She tugged a little on his hair, Billy rubbing her cheek bone. She pulled back and looked him over. âI donât think redâs yours. You should take it off.â She flirted innocently, hooking her finger in his open shirt.
 Billy slowly guided her towards the stairs, their fingers interlocked. He found an empty bedroom with a lock, pushing her against the door and crashing his mouth against hers, her hands on his arms. She reached behind her and locked the bedroom door, Billy dipping lower for a minute to pick her up, not breaking the kiss. She gripped his shoulders tightly, surprising him and licking a stripe up his neck. He walked to the bed, placing her down so he could take off his boots. She popped off her shoes, sitting on one side of the bed, waiting to get in his lap. Billy dropped his jacket on the floor, climbing on the bed, her leaning into kiss him again. Billy settled against the headboard, Y/n eagerly climbing on top of him. Billy pulled her flush against him, kissing her neck. âYou sure Stevieâs okay with this, Y/n?â She didnât say anything, Billy sucking on her neck under her ear. She whined lowly, Billy stopping and pulling away. She wouldnât look at him. âY/n?â She started crying, fat tears rolling down her cheeks. âBaby, whatâs wrong?â He swiped under her eyes, her shoulders shaking gently. âBaby, talk to me.â He pleaded, her wiping at her face. âS-Steve broke up with me.â She whimpered. Well, shit. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in tight. She tucked her head under his chin, hugging him back. âI donât know w-what I did. We were fine Wednesday.â Her skin was getting warmer, feeling him nudge her hair with his nose. She shifted, the alpha stiffening as she scented him. âWill you go home with me? My family went on a school trip for the weekend.â She asked softly, wiping more mascara off her face. He nodded, grabbing a tissue of the nightstand, wiping her face gently. He led her downstairs after she was cleaned up, his jacket around her shoulders. He steered her outside, avoiding Steve, who was standing with Nancy and Jonathan. âHowâd you get here, baby?â
âWalked.â
âHere, get in my car.â She sat in the passenger seat, snuggled into his coat. He looked over at her when they got to the end of the road, her completely curled up on the leather seat. Adorable. âWeâre here.â She sat up blinking sleepily. She unlocked the house, shivering as the snow chilled air started getting to her. He kicked his boots off, her shoes sitting next to his by the door. He picked her up and carried her up the stairs, making her giggle. She got dumped on her bed, pulling Billy down on top of her. She smiled up at him, Billy taking her in. This felt good, having her under him. Familiar, Billy thought. But definitely not the same. He liked it, used to screwing around with male omegas because they couldnât get pregnant as easily (which meant condoms were more optional if they remembered). âBilly?âÂ
âHm?â
âYou okay?â She asked, taking off his leather jacket and kissing his chin. He nodded. âAll yours baby.â She lifted her hips, shimmying off her panties, Billy tossing them off the bed. He helped her lift the sundress of her body, her popping off her bra and looking over the dressed alpha. âYou canât fuck me unless youâre naked.â He smiled, her biting her lip. âYou wanna be fucked.â
âYes, please.â He stripped, pumping over himself a few times. âWet already, huh?âÂ
âI want you to fuck me.â She whined softly, his tip rubbing over her slit. âYou want me to cum all over? Mark you?â She nodded, squirming. Billy kissed down her neck, humming softly when he got to her scent gland. âMark me. Please.â She whispered, wrapping her arms around him, hands flat on his back. She gasped, Billy pushing into her. Her fingers curled as he started pumping, the alpha desperate to comfort the previously crying omega. She was a sweet thing, Billy admittedly angry upset with Steve. This made his plan to become alpha to them both so much harder.âB-Billy? Billy please be a little more-ooh!-gentle.â She pleaded, his nails tearing at the skin on her hips. âSorry, pretty girl. Youâre easy to get lost in.â She gave him a small smile, the inebriated omega pleased with the compliment. He slowed his hips, her biting her lip. âCan you go, maybe a little faster? Oh fuck!â She squealed, bed creaking every other thrust as he drove her hips into the mattress. They exchanged desperate, sloppy kisses, her moaning into every one of them. He slowed, allowing himself to push deeper and finding what he wanted. Her knees drew up, his knot teasing her entrance. âYou feel that, baby?â She nodded rapidly, closing her eyes as a whimper escaped her. âFeels so good.â Thick fingers poked at her clit, a broad tongue lapping at her scent gland. She dug her nails into his shoulders, toes curling at the combination of his touches. âAlpha.â She moans, head tossed back to give Billy access to her scent glands. âClaim me.âÂ
He paused, pulling his mouth away from her skin. âNo, sweetheart. Not like this, alright? Letâs wait until later, okay?â
âOkay.â
âTurn over for me. Thatâs a good girl.â She grabbed one of her pillows, presenting for him. He purred softly, cock throbbing at the sight in front of him. He plowed into her harshly, the omega letting out whines as he tried to cum. He found her clit again, rubbing her slick over the little bud as he gave her more snappy thrusts. âAlpha.â She arched her back, rolling her hips to meet his thrusts. âYouâre being so good, omega.â He gave into her little pleads, littering her skin with hickeys instead of marking up her neck. Still a claim mark, just less permanent. Plus it was fun to watch her squirm in frustration every time he started to suck on skin that wasnât her scent glands. âI wanna cum.â She whined, pushing herself onto her hands. He placed his teeth over her scent gland, his knot getting excited. He sucked, her mewling softly. Then his knot popped inside her, the omega letting out a shriek as she came on it. He groaned, dropping his forehead on top of her hair, fucking his knot and cum into her slippery warmth. âGod baby. So fucking hot.â He praised, cock throbbing after coming so hard. They laid down, panting hard. Billy peppered kisses up her arm, back and neck, Y/n seemingly extremely happy with that choice. When they were finally able to pull apart, she got up on shaky legs and looked over the sweaty, naked alpha in her bed. âTake a shower with me?â
âOf course.â As the warm water ran over them, Y/n purred softly in contentment. âThanks for taking me home tonight. I needed to be with someone. I think I mightâve drank myself until I puked if you hadnât.â She mumbled, shivering as he gently rubbed her cheek with his thumb. Billy leaned to meet her, kissing her gently. They climbed into her bed and passed out almost instantly, both sleeping better than they had in many nights while in each otherâs presence.
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Rising from the Ashes (17/?)
When her husband died, Emma wasnât sure that she could ever move on. He left her with a broken heart and a baby who was only three-months old. Itâs enough to take most people down, to make them not want to keep going, but Emma Swan isnât most people. Sheâs stronger than she has any right to be. And after years of heartache, sheâs found ways to move onâŚone of those being in Nealâs best friend, Killian Jones.
As sheâs always known, however, things are more complicated than they ever seem to be.Â
Rating: Mature
A/N: Remember that thing I said about a happy ending? Theyâre (and you guys) are getting oneđ
Soon! Iâm sorry to those I mislead! I didnât realize that. Oops. Theyâre getting one when the story is over, I promise đ
Found on AO3: Beginning | CurrentÂ
Tumblr:Â 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17Â
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âHow does that make you feel?â
She cuts her head to look at Dr. Lawrence and the way sheâs tapping her pencil against her notebook, the one where she most likely writes down âEmma Swan is crazyâ over and over again. Itâs what she would write down if she were her own therapist because damn, sometimes she is crazy.
âIsnât that a little clichĂŠ to ask me how that makes me feel?â
She sighs, her shoulders heaving the slightest bit, and she rolls her eyes. She likes Dr. Lawrence. She really does, but sometimes all she wants to do is take that notebook and rip it into pieces. Sheâs been coming here for two months now, since late February, and April isnât bringing her any new revelations. Not that she thought therapy would. She just wanted to talk to someone else who wasnât so emotionally invested in her life, to talk to someone who wonât get hurt by the things she has to say. Theyâre not all great, and sheâs only a little ashamed by that. Thatâs what sheâs supposed to be working on though.
âIt is, yes, but I think itâs a legitimate question to ask when youâve been circling around saying that it bothers you that Killian hasnât proposed yet.â
Her lips press together in a firm line, a sour feeling settling in her stomach and making it twist into something that has to be unnatural. Feeling this way has to be unnatural. âI did not say that.â
âNot in those words, but you did.â
She sighs again, unable not to, before falling back on the couch and rubbing at her eyes, most likely making her mascara run and create some kind of weird, smoky eye raccoon look. This is a really uncomfortable couch, the cushions almost like rocks. Shouldnât the thing be more comfortable? Arenât people supposed to feel comfortable in here? Thatâs a thing, right?
âIâm not,â she starts, not really sure where the words are going as she uncovers her eyes and looks up at the paneled ceiling. They should do that in the living room. Itâd look nice. âIâm not upset that Killian hasnât proposed. Us getting married has never been a top priority for us, you know? We love each other, and a piece of paper and a diamond ring isnât going to make us love each other more.â
âBut it is more of a commitment.â
âTechnically, yeah. With the whole legal aspect and all. I donât â I donât know. I want  to marry Killian. I really, really do. And I know he wants to marry me. Heâs had a fucking ring for at least five months now, had to have had it for a few months before that, and heâs never asked me.â
âYouâve had a lot going on.â
She chuckles darkly, her stomach untwisting and sending that unpleasant feeling to her throat so that she feels like she could vomit all over the hardwood floor in here. That would probably be an extra fee that insurance doesnât cover. âWhat? You mean like my dead ex-husband coming back from the dead, having to explain to him âhey honey, I moved on from you and am in love with your friend and canât make you happy like that anymore. By the way, I realized most of our marriage was shit, but I canât harbor any resentment toward you because youâre a hero and the father of our kid and have been through more bad things than I thought possible. Plus, you know, I did love you at one point and youâre a nicer guy now.ââ
She finishes her words on a long breath, her shoulders releasing some of their tension, before she twists her head to the side and looks at Dr. Lawrence furiously scribbling notes down. Great, sheâs probably going to get put into a mental institution now. Can her therapist do that?
Probably not.
God, she has got to get a grip.
And stop on the way home and get something for dinner so her mom isnât forced to feed her when she picks Henry and Ada up from her house. Killianâs working late on some project with Robin that she cannot wait to be over. She swears that itâs aging him by ten years some days. Heâs always so tired and stressed. Sometimes she wonders if he needs a new job, one thatâs less stressful and reminds him less of his time in the Navy, but whenever she brings it up, he always says that heâs happy there and that the money is good. She believes him, but it doesnât keep her from worrying about him and wanting to work on the stress thatâs in his shoulders and between his brows.
Dr. Lawrence still doesnât say anything, and for some reason this bothers her enough to make her keep going, to keep rambling.
âAnd I guessâŚthings have calmed down now. It was like I was walking a tightrope for a long time, and I wasnât allowed to trip or fall, you know? Because if I did, things fell apart. I had to be strong for Henry and for Ada. I had to be strong for Neal too. And Killian, even when we were going through thatâŚeven when we were going through that rough patch. But I failed, you know? I felt so lost and helpless. Sometimes I felt worthless, which is not an uncommon feeling for me but recently, it wasnât a usual one. It took me a long time to get over Nealâs death, to get over being abandoned again, and Killian just made me feel so â he made me feel solid. Happy. Good. He was there for me when I felt like I had no one. He listened to me cry over my husbandâs death. He listened to me cry over raising a baby alone. He listened to me. And he let me be me, which was something I didnât have a lot.â
She smiles to herself thinking of it all, of all of the times Killian has been there with her and for her throughout the years, all the way back to them meeting in Oceania and him making her laugh. Heâs always making her laugh.
âHeâs my best friend on this planet. I can be myself when Iâm with him, and he has held my hand through the shitstorm that have been parts of my life, even when I didnât want to let him. I love him, you know? And Iâm badass, by the way. Just thought that needed to be said. Iâm badass and totally could have made it on my own, but KillianâŚwith him I get to be strong and independent while also having that hand holding mine for comfort and support. Heâs made my life so much better. Heâs given me Ada, and really, heâs given me Henry too. So, yeah, I guess I am bothered by the fact that he hasnât proposed yet. Iâm worried that maybe heâs changed his mind again. I shouldnât really. I know he loves me. He doesnât let me doubt that. I justâŚI want to be with him fully. Hell, I want me to not have a different last name than both of my children. I want to marry him, and yeah, a part of me is worried that he doesnât want to marry me, that everything with Neal has made our entire relationship be altered.â
Once the words are out, she knows that she canât take them back. She doesnât want to take them back. This isâŚthis is her life and her emotions and she needs to feel them. It feels really good to say all of that, and honestly, she wants to say more. She wants to talk more about Killian and more about Neal. She wants to go back to what they were talking about last week and how Nealâs moving has affected everyone, especially Henry. She wants to talk about how terrified she is being a parent and putting her kids in such stressful, life changing situations.
She wants to talk.
But the clock on the wall says she only has ten minutes left, and she figures that Dr. Lawrence has to have something to say or else sheâs been writing on that notepad for nothing.
She reaches up to wipe her eyes, to wipe away the tears that have been furiously falling without her permission before her hand lands on her pendant. Sheâs going to have to make herself look less puffy. She doesnât even remember when she started crying.
âI think Neal coming back has altered your relationship,â Dr. Lawrence begins, and Emma sits up on the couch, straightening out her shirt and her back as she sniffles. âHow could it not? Besides the emotional trauma and joy of having him be found alive, itâs completely changed your life. You and Killian are no longer parents to Henry alone. You share that responsibility even if the two of you carry the load. Your ex-husband is no longer a dead man. Heâs a real human being with thoughts and feelings that arenât always going to be perfect, so you have to adjust to that too. For as much change as youâve been going through, Killian has been going through something too. You have to give him the emotional time to adjust as well because while I donât know the man, I do know that he cares about you and is probably putting your feelings above his.â
âWhat do you mean?â
âMaybe Killian thinks that youâre not ready yet, that he thought you were still going through too much emotional upheaval until you two talked about it a bit â â she looks down at her notebook, eyes seemingly searching for something â â two weeks ago.â
Ah, so maybe she does actually pay attention.
âDoes that really count as talking, though? I literally just hinted around at it.â
She smiles. âBut itâs a start.â
-/-
âHenry, you have got to put your shin guards on so that we can go.â
âI canât find them,â he shouts back over the railing.
âOf course you canât,â she mutters to herself, rolling her eyes a bit as she looks down at Ada who is currently banging her hands against the wall and giggling to herself. Kids are so damn weird sometimes. She doesnât understand what the purpose of banging her hands against the wall is, but if sheâs about to have to go upstairs and help Henry find the rest of his soccer uniform, she canât leave her down here by herself despite how much baby proofing theyâve done.
Her entire house is metaphorically wrapped in bubble wrap, and Ada still manages to find ways to nearly kill herself just by exploring.
This is terrifying.
How is Killian not back from his run and the grocery store yet? Heâs already supposed to be here so they can go to the fields together like theyâve done every Saturday this spring. He already missed their usual breakfast, so he really needs to show up soon. Maybe heâs stuck in traffic or there was some kind of freak watermelon accident and there are watermelon all over the road. Or maybe he ran into someone he knows. She doesnât know, and even though she really shouldnât be angry at him right now, sheâs had a bad morning and needs him.
And she misses him. Heâs here, always right here, but heâs felt so distant lately, so far away. She felt so good after her therapy appointment on Tuesday, like she was ready to talk to him and finally fix things and have all of her emotions centered, but sheâs barely gotten a chance to talk to him in the three days since. Both of their jobs have been busy, the kids have been insane, and then she had to deal with Neal cancelling his trip into town this weekend. She understands, really, but Henry understanding is different. He misses his dad, and if the hour long phone call last night is any indication, Neal misses Henry too.
Her life is a constant ebb and flow of being all together and all falling apart.
No, her life is good. Sheâs just been stressed the past few days. Thatâs all.
âCome on, bug,â she sighs, stepping toward Ada and picking her up, wondering when in the world this kid got so heavy. Ada lets out what has to be an actual, blood curdling scream and starts thrashing around while Emma carries her up the stairs. âAda, shhh, itâs okay. Weâre just going upstairs. You donât have to have a meltdown.â
That somehow only makes things worse, the cries going up another decibel, and she resigns herself to this as she walks down the hallway into Henryâs room. There are clothes scattered everywhere, his notebooks spread across the floor. When in the world did his room get to be such a mess? He has to clean that tonight or tomorrow. It cannot stay like this.
âI canât find them,â he whines again, tossing a pair of shoes out of his closet, the pair of converses landing on one of his books.
âHave you checked in your bag?â
âThatâs the first place I looked.â
âAre you sure?â
âYes,â he shouts, coming out past the doorway and running his hands through his hair, yanking at the brown strands. âWhy is Ada so loud? Make her stop.â
âIâm trying, kid.â
âTry harder.â
âHey, no,â she says sternly, trying not to yell to escalate the situation, âyou do not get to tell me what to do, especially not being loud and harsh like that. I understand that you are upset and canât find your shin guards and that your sister is being really loud. I get that. I donât like it either, but yelling isnât going to solve any of our problems.â
âAda is yelling.â
âHenry,â she sighs while Ada lets out another loud cry. Shit, this is not a good day. Itâs not even ten in the morning yet. âAda is a baby. She canât really talk. You know this. Iâm going to text your dad and ask if he knows where your stuff is.â
âHow would my dad know if he doesnât live here anymore?â
Her stomach drops for a moment before she realizes that she used the wrong term for Killian. Itâs usually not confusing, but sometimes itâs so easy to slip up like that.
âYour daddy,â she corrects. âIâm going to text your daddy.â
âKillian is not my daddy. Heâs my step dad.â
Her stomach really does drop then, a heavy anchor weighing her down and making it nearly impossible for her legs to stay steady and her arms to stay strong against a still wailing Ada, even if her cries are beginning to calm down. What didâŚwhat did Henry just say?
Why did he just say that Killian isnât his daddy? She knew that sooner or later heâd feel too old to call Killian his daddy, that he wouldnât always call him by the name he started calling him when he was five, but heâs not supposed to be calling Killian his step dad. Yeah, thatâs pretty much what he is, technically, but thatâs also not what he is. Heâs his dad. Heâs the man who raised him, and Henry should never think otherwise when that used to be all he knew.
âWhere did you learn that?â
âI donât know.â
âHenry.â
He huffs, crossing his arms over his chest while his lips curl downward. Does she have the most dramatic kid in the world? Probably not. But he seems to be going for that title today. Sheâs just waiting for him to start crying or throwing things. Or hopefully not throwing things. That would be a disaster.
This day is kind of a disaster.
At least she hasnât gotten to the point where she has to take away Henryâs games yet.
âMy dad told me thatâs what Killian is.â
Motherfucking hell.
Sheâs going to start crying.
And throw something.
Maybe throw Neal. Definitely throw Neal. Heâs bigger than her and hundreds of miles away, but she could get it done. She could. Absolutely. All of those stories about mothers raging to protect their children â one of those is going to come true after she figures out what the hell is going on. Neal wouldnât have told Henry that. He wouldnât have. But then why would Henry have said that? He obviously knew he wasnât supposed to tell her before she pushed him into saying it, so he was probably trying to protect his dad.
But why would Neal have told Henry that in the first place when they explicitly told him over and over again that this is how their family situation works?
It must be some kind of misunderstanding. It has to be. Neal wouldnât do that, and if he did, it has to be a mistake, a slip of the tongue. Sheâll call him later and get it all straightened up. Itâll be fine. Right now she really just has to focus on Henry and this situation and getting him to his soccer game.
Swallowing the gulp caught in her throat, she puts Ada on the ground, figuring thatâs probably all that she wants to stop this crying, and squats down so that sheâs at eye level with Henry, reaching up to brush his hair off of his forehead while he stares at her with those watery chocolate brown eyes.
âKid,â she whispers quietly, curving her lips into a small, hopefully reassuring smile while she keeps pushing his hair back, âI need you to listen to me, okay?â
Henry nods his head up and down, his little shoulders heaving while Ada has managed to make her way to Henryâs bed and is holding herself up on it. At least sheâs not banging on the door.
âKillian is your daddy. You can call him Dad if you want to, if you feel too old to be calling him Daddy. Thatâs okay. You are a very special kid, and like Iâve told you before, you get to be lucky enough to have two dads who love you and care for you more than anything in the world. Not every kid gets that like you do.â
âBut Dad told me when we were on the phone that Kil â that my daddy is my step dad. Like how Ella has a step mom.â
She doesnât know how to explain this. It was easier when Neal was dead, which is a horrible thing to think. But Henry understood it much more easily then. He embraced it more. Now heâs older, though, and has an entirely different situation for his life.
She wishes Killian were here. Heâd help and know what to do and know what to say despite the fact that this would break his heart even more than itâs breaking hers.
âItâsâŚitâs grown up things. I,â she sighs, running her free hand through her hair and trying to think while her thighs begin to ache from this position. âYou know how when we told you about Ada being born, we told you it was because Mommy and Daddy loved each other and that helped to make her?â
âYeah.â
âWell, back when your dad and I were married, we loved each other and made you so that we could love you.â
âI know.â
She smiles at him again, making sure that her eyes donât leave his except to glance over to Ada as she plops down on the ground and starts messing with some of Henryâs books. Thank God sheâs stopped crying. That was miserable. Her entire life was about to implode in the span of five minutes.
âBut then your dad disappeared, and I didnât have him to help me love you or me anymore. But your daddy came along and he fell in love with me and  with you. And he was around to help you learn how to walk and talk, just like he is with Ada. He took you to the pool to go swimming and to the playground. He went to all of your school plays and all of your birthday parties. He tucked you into your bed at night and read you stories, and heâs spent so much time loving you and me and your sister that I donât think we can even imagine how much he loves us.â
Henry nods his head, and she desperately hopes that he understands. She doesnât understand how to explain this without scarring Henry for life about sex when he is so not ready for that. She knows that some parents are fully open with their kids about things like that, but itâs not her parenting style.
âSo he and my dad are the same?â
âY-yeah,â she sputters, knowing that she needs to attack this conversation with a better plan later but thankful that things have seemed to calm down. âTheyâre the same. Theyâre both your dads, and they both love you so much that I bet your arms donât even stretch out that far.â
Henry sticks out his arms to test the theory out, and she canât help but chuckle at that. He has such childlike innocence and faith for someone who keeps having his life changed and uprooted, and even though she still feels like a frayed wire right now, she knows that she has a set of good kids in her life.
Leaning forward, she wraps Henry up in a hug and holds him as tightly as she can without smothering him. He hugs her right back, and she feels a little of the lead thatâs in her stomach dissipate.
âCome on,â she says as she pulls back, âweâve got some shin guards to find and a soccer game to go to.â
They find the shin guards in the kitchen of all places, and even though they have to practically sprint across the fields to get to his match, they make it in time. She knows a lot of the other parents there, a lot of them have kids in Henryâs class, but she prefers to sit under this tree in the shade with Ada. Itâs at the corner of the field, so she still has a clear shot of Henry and he does of them.
Emma: Where are you?
Emma: Weâre already at the fields. Hope you get here soon!
Emma: Weâve had quite the morning. Canât wait to tell you about it later.
She puts her phone down on the blanket and pulls Ada back to her so that she can adjust her hat on her head, making sure sheâs totally shaded while she slathers more lotion on her.
âMama,â Ada babbles, grabbing at her necklace with enough force that she could snap it. Emma has to immediately grab Adaâs hand and move it away before twisting the necklace around so that Ada canât see the diamonds. âMama. Mama. Mama.â
âWhat?â she laughs, scrunching her nose up when Ada tries to grab at it too. âBaby, youâre driving me crazy today. Nothing makes you happy, and youâre going to either rip my nose off or break the necklace your daddy gave me.â
Ada giggles at that, like itâs the funniest thing in the world, and Emma can do nothing more than shake her head as she continues to get Adaâs arms with lotion. Sheâs wearing a United jersey with Jones written across it that Killian got her. Heâs so extra sometimes, and this is a prime example of it.
She kind of loves that.
Plopping Ada down on the blanket in front of her, she snaps a picture of her back with the soccer field in front of her, and sends it off to Killian, hoping that heâll answer this one since he hasnât answered any of her other texts and calls. Sheâs trying to ignore that and convince herself that itâs fine, but thereâs this weird, sinking feeling thatâs stayed with her all day. Maybe itâs the stress, or maybe itâs something else entirely.
Emma: Henryâs number one fan!
The rest of Henryâs game (or is it match? Sheâs really not sure.) goes by pretty quickly. Heâs at the age where the kids are actually pretty competitive, so itâs not so much all of them running around and kicking balls in the wrong goal as it is them legitimately trying to win the game. Not quite as cute as it used to be, but Henry likes it. Thatâs all that really matters.
âDid you see me kick that goal?â Henry gasps when he runs over to her after the game, his hair covered in sweat and grass stains covering his knees. âIt was awesome.â
âIt was awesome,â she agrees, holding her hand up for him to high five him before holding Adaâs hand up so that she can do the same, even if itâs not with quite the same impact.
âWhereâs Daddy?â
âHe got called into work,â she lies, not too sure how to handle this situation. That seems to be happening a lot lately. âHeâll be home later, though.â
The smile that was on Henryâs face instantly fades, the upward curl twisting down. âHe didnât see my game?â
âNo, kid. He didnât. But he wanted to.â
âHe promised that heâd come to all of my games.â
âI know,â she laments, bringing him into her side. Poor kid. Both of his dads have bailed on him this weekend, and she knows that if itâs just today, it wonât mess with him too badly. But if itâsâŚif it keeps happening, well, it canât keep happening. She wonât let it keep happening. âBut sometimes things happen that make us break our promises. Iâm sure your daddy is so sad about not getting to see you score that goal.â
âYeah,â Henry sighs, his shoulders sagging forward as she starts to pick up all of their stuff so they can walk to the car.
It doesnât take long even navigating through all of the kids and parents, and soon enough sheâs driving out of the soccer complex and on her way home with the kids so that Henry can get showered and Ada can take her early afternoon nap. The music cuts off in the car as a phone call comes in, and she hits the button on her steering wheel to accept Nealâs call, leaving it on speaker since heâs probably calling for Henry anyways. Good. If he canât fly home this weekend because of work then at least Henry will have this.
âHey, Neal,â she greets, pulling up to a stop light and inching closer to the car in front of her.
âHey, Ems. How are you?â
âGood, good. Weâre on our way home from Henryâs soccer game. Kid, why donât you tell your dad what you did today?â
âI scored a goal,â Henry shouts from the backseat, his voice far too loud. âIt was really cool. Avery kicked the ball to me, and I kicked it right past the Dragonsâ goalie. She couldnât stop me.â
âThatâs awesome,â Neal laughs. She can practically imagine the smile on his face, and it makes something in her heart settle thinking of how much Neal is here for Henry even when heâs physically away.
-/-
-/-
âCome on, Emma, push.â
âI canât,â she cries, holding onto the handrails over the bed while a contraction roars through her body, making all of her limbs shake as she feels herself shutting down, feels her will to keep going fading. âI canât do this by myself.â
âI am right here, Hon,â one of her nurses soothes, holding onto her hand even though Emma doesnât know her name. She should know her name. Sheâs the woman who is by her side while she delivers her son. If sheâs the only one going to be here, Emma should know her name. Itâs too painful to ask. âYouâre doing just great. So is your baby. His heartbeat is so strong, yeah. He gets that from you.â
âHeâs okay? Heâs still doing okay? This isnât â this isnât hurting him, ah, too much?â
Her nurse squeezes her hand, holding on tightly as she watches people move between her legs. Sheâs officially had her vagina stared at by more people than she ever thought would stare at it, and even though she doesnât want to think about that and whatâs happening right now, itâs all that she can focus on.
If she doesnât, sheâll think about Neal.
He should be here.
He should be here holding her hand and helping her through this.
He should be here to hold his son when heâs born.
He should be here.
But heâs not. He canât help it. Heâs training. This is what he has to do. This is his job. Heâs helping so many other people, and thatâs what she has to remind herself. Thatâs what she has to keep repeating over and over again as she suffers through labor. Why did no one tell her how much this hurts? They did, but it was in broad terms. It wasnât like this. It was never described like this. Everyone always glossed over it and told her that it would be all over and sheâd have her baby in her arms and that everything would be okay.
How is this okay?
How is any of this fucking okay?
Sheâs by herself.
Sheâs alone and has no one here but this nurse who she still doesnât know the name of to help her. Neal isnât here. Ruth isnât here. Neither is David. Or Mary Margaret. Mary Margaret would be good at helping here. Sheâs been through this. Sheâs so soothing even when sheâs annoying and pushing all of her opinions on Emma.
She doesnât even have any friends here. All of her friends are mostly Nealâs friends, and she doesnât know any of them well enough to ask them to be here.
Why didnât she make more friends? Why didnât she keep some of hers from freshman year? She had friends, didnât she? She had people she talked to and got lunch with. She knows that she did. She had to.
Sheâs been alone for so much of her life, but right here, right now, is the last place she ever thought she would be alone.
She canât do this. She canât. Itâs too much.
Maybe sheâs not meant to be a mother.
She canât be one.
How could she when she didnât have one for most of her life?
âI canât be a mother,â she cries, tears stinging hotly behind her eyes while her contraction begins to wane. She knows itâs only a brief moment of reprieve. Her son is almost here. She knows that he is, that has to be. Sheâs been suffering in here for too long for him not to be here soon. She needs him to be here. âI canât. I canât. I canât.â
âYes, you can, Sweetie,â the nurse promises her, rubbing her thumb over her knuckles. Neal always does that, and itâs so damn soothing. She misses him. He should be here. She canât stop thinking that. He should be here. âYou can be a mother. Itâs just scary right now, but youâre doing great trying so hard to help this boy come into the world.â
âBut Iâm alone,â she whispers, the words barely escaping her lips before they get captured by a sob, one that moves her shoulders and makes her vision completely blur.
Sheâs alone.
She thought she finally wouldnât be, but she is. Sheâs alone and terrified.
But sheâs been alone for most of her life, and the sad truth is that she knows how to deal with it. She knows how to deal with handling things by herself, how to deal with pain and happiness, with loss and with celebration.
She knows.
So she can do it. She can get through it. She has to.
She can be a mother.
She can be a mother for this kid. Maybe even for herself too.
Her eyes havenât seen this kid outside of a black and white picture. Her hands havenât felt him move except for the hard kicks to her ribs that have taken her breath away. Her arms havenât held him except when sheâs cradled her bump at night.
She doesnât know anything about this kid, but she knows that she loves him. She knows that she wants to be his mom and to be there for him for every day of his life.
She knows.
This is her son, and she can do this.
And she does.
Even with the epidural, itâs possibly one of the most painful things sheâs ever experienced, and she knows that doesnât go away anytime soon. All of the books told her that about the recovery. But there was no way they could tell her the pure joy that she feels holding this red, squirmy baby in her arms. Heâs beautiful. Heâs the most beautiful thing sheâs ever seen in her life, and she made him with her body.
She and Neal made him.
Theyâre parents. Theyâre freaking parents.
She canât wait to tell him, to let him know that his son is here, but right now all she wants is to spend time with her boy, to get to hold him and never let go.
Sheâs never letting go.
âHey, Henry,â she sighs, rubbing her finger across his cheek while he looks up at her. He has Nealâs nose. She always thought people who could tell who a baby looked like when theyâre born are crazy, but her kid has Nealâs nose. âIâm your momma. I am. You are so precious, and I love you so damn much. Iâm pretty sure you donât understand what Iâm saying, so that curse is just between you and me, okay? Yeah? Just between you and me. Your daddy never has to know.â
âYou did a great job,â her nurse sighs as she stands at the door. âThatâs a good baby with a healthy mom.â
âThank you,â she whispers, leaning her head back against the pillow. It feels so comfortable, but sheâs not ready to go to sleep quite yet. âIt really means so much to me to have had someone to hold my hand throughout all of that.â
âItâs certainly not a problem.â
âHey, whatâs your name? Iâm sorry I didnât ask before. I was kind of busy.â
âIngrid.â
âThank you, Ingrid.â
Ingrid walks out of the room, and she turns all of her attention back to Henry and the roundness of his eyes, the dark lashes. Heâs so bald, but heâs got this one little patch of dark hair. Heâs beautiful. Just beautiful. And not crying, which she thinks she likes most of all.
âI think you and I are going to be good friends, kid,â she tells him, letting him grasp onto her finger. âLike, you eat food from my boob, so itâs pretty much a given that weâre going to be close. Just saying. My body has gone through a lot for your existence, and I expect some good motherâs day gifts someday. Your daddy knows what I like. Oh, I canât wait for you to meet your dad. Youâre going to love him. Heâs so funny. I bet heâll make you laugh all of the time, yeah? But not as much as me. Donât tell your dad, but Iâm so much funnier than him. He has no idea.â
Throughout the rest of the day, nurses and doctors come in and out to check on both she and Henry. She knows that she takes a lot of naps, but itâs all a bit of a blur for her as some of the pain starts to kick in and she struggles getting Henry to eat. Once he does, though, she feels like infinitely less of a failure. Itâs a weird feeling, being so devastated by something thatâs really not in her control, but she has to keep reminding herself that sheâs not going to be perfect at this and that things are going to go wrong. Hell, so many have already.
But Henry is here and healthy, and thatâs all that matters. Thatâs always been what matters.
âThanks for making me not be alone anymore, kid.â
-/-
-/-
Neal and Henry talk for the rest of the ride home, but really, itâs mostly Henry going on and on about his game and saying the same things several times while Neal pretends itâs brand new information to him. When she pulls into the garage, the door shutting behind them, she switches the call to her phone so that she can talk to Neal for a little bit while she sends Henry inside to take his shower, hoping that heâs actually going to wash himself instead of simply standing under the water.
âThanks for calling him today,â she tells him as she rocks Ada back and forth in her glider, hoping that sheâll fall asleep soon and not have another meltdown. âIt was kind of a big day for him, and you have no idea how much that means to him.â
âOf course. Heâs my kid. Just because Iâm not at home anymore doesnât mean Iâm not going to be there for him.â
Her heart lurches, practically dropping to the pit of her stomach, and she has to hold back the tears that are threatening to push through. Thatâs literally all sheâs ever wanted since the day Henry was born.
âThatâs good,â she sniffles, adjusting Ada in her arms. âYouâre a good dad. Youâve done such a good job adjusting to being a parent to an eight-year-old who likes to talk back and who you canât just cuddle with to make them stop crying.â
Neal hums on the other end of the line. âYou okay?â
âYeah, yeah. Why wouldnât I be?â
âYou sound a little upset.â
âI â â she begins, almost ready to spill all of her thoughts to Neal, but she bites her tongue to hold herself back. Sheâs not about to share how upset she is with Killian with Neal. Thatâs pretty much asking for disaster. She knows that they have a good relationship, a good friendship, but theyâre not the kind of exes who talk about their love lives with each other. Not in graphic detail. They talk about Henry and the movies and old times. She doesnât tell him her intimate thoughts, not anymore. âItâs been a long day. The kids had me about ready to pull my hair out.â
âKillian didnât help?â
âHe got called into work,â she lies, telling Neal the same one she told Henry earlier. Killian will call soon. He has to.
Neal clicks his tongue.
âWhat?â she asks, watching Adaâs eyes flutter closed.
âNothing.â
âItâs obviously something, Neal. I know you. You click your tongue when you have something to say.â
âItâs just that, well, shouldnât Killian be around for Henryâs soccer game?â
âSometimes things come up.â
âThatâs still a shitty thing to do.â
She huffs, all of that anger from this morning returning as the memories flood back to her brain. How in the world did she forget that she needed to talk to Neal? Itâs like she got lulled into some kind of false sense of security and didnât even realize it.
âYou missed his game today too, Neal. For the exact same reason.â She doesnât know if Killian is at work right now, but thatâs what sheâs going with. Something must have happened for him not to be here. âAnd we are far too old to be playing petty games over who is being a better parent to Henry. By the way, where the hell do you get off telling Henry that Killian is his step dad?â
She can feel her voice begin to raise, so she gets up from the chair and puts Ada in her crib, hoping that sheâll fall asleep quickly. When she exits the nursery, she can still hear the shower going, so she walks down the hall and into her bedroom, moving to the bathroom so Henry will be less likely to hear her talk. She canât begin to count the number of arguments she and Killian have had in the bathroom. They donât yell too often, but she doesnât want Henry to hear any of it when they do argue.
Neal still hasnât said anything, so she asks again. âWhy did you say that?â
âI didnât,â he finally says, his voice completely even.
âHenry told me that you did.â
âHeâs a kid. He says crazy shit.â
âHeâs a smart kid who only says things when heâs learned them somewhere else. Just admit to it so we can talk about it. Itâs already a tricky situation, so we donât need it to get worse.â
âWhatâs tricky about it? Heâs my kid, and Killian is pretty much his step dad. I mean, you two arenât married, so not really. But I figured that made it less complicated.â
Less complicated her ass. Why is he being such an ass about this? This is not him, not anymore.
âFirst of all, he is Killianâs kid too. I have never let Henry think that youâre not his dad. You are. Thatâs something Iâve made a priority for him to understand ever since he was old enough. But you cannot take away Killianâs right to him as well. Killian helped me raise him, Neal. For most of Henryâs life, Killian has been Henryâs dad too. That doesnât just change.â
âWell, itâs not my fault that I wasnât fucking around to raise him.â
âI didnât say it was.â
âYou might as well have, going on and on about Killian this, Killian that. Fuck, Ems. Heâs not the greatest man in existence. You donât have to put him on a pedestal.â
âI donât.â
âPlease,â he scoffs, and she feels acid swish in her stomach, twisting around as she settles down on the countertop next to the sink, her legs like jello beneath her. âYou so do. Ever since Iâve come back itâs been all about Killian and the life you share and the daughter you have, like our marriage was absolutely nothing to you. I bet you didnât even consider taking me back.â
âWhat the hell is your problem today? Iâm trying to talk to you about our son to make sure that he doesnât get confused, and you decide to be nasty to me? No, Neal, I didnât really consider taking you back. Life moved on. It changed. But donât you dare for a second think that I didnât go through hell trying to figure out how to deal with things when you came home. I nearly lost my mind trying to handle everything. I care about you. Youâre my friend, and I tried my best. But thereâs no way you could have expected me to drop everything to be with you when I spent years grieving you.â
âI would have done it for you.â
âBullshit. I loved you, but you never loved me in the same way. I didnât realize it at the time, but now I know.â
âI think youâre making a mistake being with Killian.â
âI think youâre making a mistake trying to talk to me about this when itâs really none of your business.â
âIf it affects my son, it is my business.â
She scoffs, bewilderment inching its way over all of her skin, gooseflesh rising. How fucking dare he try to turn this on her, try to gaslight her. This is what heâs always done. Heâs always tried to steamroll her like this. She thought heâd changed, that heâs tried to be better, so why is he being like this? He shouldnât be like this anymore.
âYou know what affects your son, Neal?â she asks, her voice cold even to her own ears. âHis dad fucking with how he thinks of one of his other parents. No part of that is okay, nor will it ever be okay. Donât do it again.â
She hears him say her name on the other end of the phone, but she hangs up before he can say anything else. Heâll call back. She knows that he will, but sheâs done with that conversation. It was ridiculous, in every single way. She knew it wouldnât be comfortable bringing up the whole step parent thing, but she didnât think it would ever turn intoâŚthat.
What the hell was that?
Neal hasnât talked to her like that since he found out that she and Killian were together. It was harsh, but she understood in a way. Now though, she doesnât understand. She doesnât understand why he would be rude to her life that, why he would try to make her think that sheâs doing something wrong by being with Killian, to make her think that sheâs a bad mother. Itâs how he used to talk to her, but itâs not how the man sheâs known as talked to her ever since he came back.
Itâs not supposed to happen like that anymore.
All she wants to do is cry, but sheâs too tired to cry. If she starts, she may not be able to stop. Itâs all too much. Today has been too much for her, and she still doesnât know where Killian is, whatâs going on with him. In the back of her mind she thinks that maybe she should be calling hospitals to make sure that heâs not in one, but something in her gut keeps her from doing that. She does text Mary Margaret and David, however, hoping that maybe one of them will have the answer.
She needs to know, and worry is slowly covering each inch of her skin.
âMom,â Henry calls, stepping into her bathroom.
âYeah, kid?â
âCan you make me a hot dog?â
âSure,â she sighs, giving him a watery smile and wiping away at her eyes. âLetâs go do that.â
The rest of her day is spent with her kids, trying to entertain the both of them with games and movies, even going outside to play on the play set for awhile. She never hears from Killian, and only Mary Margaret texts her back to say that she hasnât heard from him and that Davidâs got a busy day at work and probably wonât get back to her until his shift is over. It bothers her, makes her practically sick to her stomach, but she canât focus on it as she focuses on making sure Ada and Henry have a good day.
Itâs what she has to do if sheâs doing this alone today.
That night, after sheâs got Ada in her crib, she walks to the next room over and into Henryâs. They both cleaned up in here a bit today, so she doesnât step over any legos or sharp objects as she crawls into his bed behind him, wrapping her arm around his waist and holding onto her son like her life depends on it.
Maybe sometimes it does.
âWhat are you doing?â he mumbles, still flipping through one of his books.
âCuddling with you because I love you so much.â
He squirms, but he still settles into her. âI love you too.â
âWhat are you reading?â
âMatilda.â
âThatâs a good one.â
âI know. I like it. She has magic.â
She nods her head and settles it down onto Henryâs shoulder, reading behind him while he mumbles some of the words out loud. She doesnât know how she got a kid who loves to read when she remembers hating it at his age, but sheâs really thankful for that.
Sheâs thankful for Henry and how he changed her entire life for the better on the day he was born, how he brought magic into her life in a time that was so dark that even the stars seemed to disappear, blinking out one by one until there was no light left.
Except for Henry. He has always been the light.
âDid you know I love you?â she whispers to him.
âYeah, you already said that.â
âI know.â She kisses his cheek and holds him a little closer. âItâs just that I love you and Ada so much that sometimes my heart canât contain it, and I have to keep telling you so that you know how much I love you, how much Iâll always love you forever.â
âI love you and Ada too,â he says simply. She knows that he means the words, but they donât have the same emotional depth that her words do. Good. He doesnât need to feel how sheâs feeling, like her heart is threatening to break into pieces over how much she loves him.
âAnd your dad and your daddy love you too. So much more than you even know.â
âI know. Mom, youâre making it hard to read my book.â
Emma chuckles, kissing his cheek again before she shifts out of the bed, figuring that sheâs smothered him enough for tonight. Just because she needs to time with him doesnât mean that he wants it. âIn thirty minutes your light needs to be off and you need to be asleep, okay?â
âWhatever.â
âHenry.â
âOkay.â
âGood. Night, kid. Thanks for making me feel like I have real magic in my life.â
âGoodnight, Mom.â
She closes his door behind her and makes her way downstairs, quickly checking on Ada on her way. The house is quiet, only the sounds of the air conditioner running and the refrigerator making ice filling the space. Usually sheâd crave something like this. Sheâd crave having peace and quiet and not having to worry about anything for a little while. She can fix herself a cup of hot chocolate and settle down in front of the television to watch whatever she wants. Those are the nights she craves sometimes, but now that she has one of those, she wants none of it.
All she wants is for this day to be over, possibly for this day not to exist. Frankly, it sucked, and she knows that not everything will be fixed when she wakes up in the morning. Sheâs still pissed at Neal. Like, if he were home she would probably have the urge to punch him pissed. Sheâs worried about Henry and how everything is impacting him. Sheâs already emailed Dr. Hopper today, but sometimes sheâs worried that him going to therapy and them trying so much to give him a good life is not enough.
Sometimes she worries that she is not enough.
That sheâs not enough for her children.
That sheâs not enough for Killian.
He has only made her feel that way once in all of their time together, and she doesnât hold it against him, not anymore. She understands everything that he was going through. But right now, today, she needs him, and heâs not here.
She falls asleep on the couch, and when she wakes, itâs to a twist in her neck and a twist of the front door handle, Killian coming inside as quietly as possible. At first, sheâs relieved that heâs okay, that heâs home, but then she remembers the absolute hell that sheâs been through all day without him by her side, without him answering any of her calls.
âWhere have you been?â she whispers. She thought the words would be louder, harsher, but she finds that she can barely get them past her lips.
Right now sheâs just relieved that heâs okay, that his heart is still beating within his chest.
âWhy arenât you asleep, love?â Killian asks her, stepping into the bright light of the living room so that she can see the red rim around his eyes. âYou should go to bed.â
âIâd really rather know why you ignored all of my calls all day long.â
âIâll tell you in the morning.â
âDamn it, no,â she yells, this time the words coming out as she sits up further on the couch, âtell me now. Iâm done being pushed around today. You have been gone. I have been worried. Henry has been worried, and you walk in here at two in the morning telling me that weâll talk later. No, thatâs not how this works.â
Killian nods his head while his lips press together in a firm line. He looks exhausted and like heâs been crying, and beneath all of her anger, she feels the worry for him that sheâs felt all day. âYouâre right,â he sighs, his lashes landing against his cheeks as he looks at the ceiling before his gaze finally finds hers. âIâve got some things to talk to you about.â
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Untold Tales of Spider-Man 06: The Doctorâs Dilemma â by Danny Fingeroth
An unexpected gem!
Dr. Bromwell grabs Peter by the arm and tells him he must talk to him about "his double life." But Bromwell hasn't stumbled on Pete's secret identity. He's talking about the dangers Pete gets into as a Daily Bugle photographer. He asks Peter, for May's sake, to give up the job. Although Peter has worried about the dangers himself, he stiffs Bromwell, saying "I'd appreciate it if you'd mind your own business, Doctor." Regretting every word, Peter goes into an unfair critique of Bromwell and a defense of his photography work. Taken aback, Bromwell gives Pete a new prescription for May and heads toward the door. Peter calls him back and apologizes. He tells him he has considered the dangers but still thinks the reward is worth the risk. Once Bromwell leaves, Peter changes to Spider-Man, eventually web-swinging to the pharmacy to fill May's prescription.
Back at his office, Bromwell can't stop thinking about Peter. Suddenly, he gets a brainstorm. He wants to give Peter a job in the sciences instead. First he goes to Metro Hospital and talks to Dr. Gordon, who saved May's life after Spider-Man brought in the needed ISO-36 (in Amazing Spider-Man #33, February 1966). Gordon reveals that, shortly after Spidey left, a beaten and bruised Peter appeared. Bromwell doesn't know what kind of deal Peter has with Spider-Man but he suspects the web-slinger is taking advantage of him.
Out web-slinging, Spidey comes upon "an eight-foot tall, four-foot wide gent in the green spandex suit" who is trashing an armored car. He is also "amazingly fast and as strong as the Hulk." When Spidey asks for a name, the giant comes up with "Impact," revealing that he volunteered for an experiment involving radioactive steroids (a combination just asking for trouble) for which he never got paid. Now paying himself in his own way, Impact slams Spidey against a wall and escapes.
The next day, Bromwell makes a house call and finds Peter all battered and bruised. He offers Pete a job in his own office helping with his research and lab work. Peter accepts. Aunt May overhears this conversation and is wracked with guilt for letting Peter risk his life taking pictures simply because they desperately needed the money.
So, Peter goes to work for Bromwell. There he researches steroids and finds out that Impact is Walter Cobb, a family man whose mind was warped by the experiment. As the days go by, Peter works at Bromwell's office, just missing catching up to Impact at his various crime scenes. Finally, Bromwell is called to the ER to help treat some victims of Impact's latest assault. As he leaves, Bromwell asks Peter to not go out for news photos. But Peter has to go out to stop Impact. Arriving at the scene,he finds Impact holding two hostages. The police bring out Impact's wife and kids to plead with him. It appears to work, with Impact releasing his hostages. Peter starts imagining a day when his work with Bromwell will lead to greater things than his web-swinging. Then a shot rings out and Impact goes on the rampage again. Spidey tries to calm him but he is too far gone. After pounding on the wall-crawler for a bit, Impact collapses. Bromwell is on the scene and pronounces the giant dead. As Spidey swings home, he reflects on it all. "Bromwell tells me that I should think about my aunt â like I don't do that enough. Impact shows me that there's a right way and a wrong way to try to help those you love. All these lessons! But...what am I supposed to learn from them? Where's the curriculum? Where's the syllabus?"
A great ending, right? But, oops, there's more! On his way home, Peter realizes that he could be as dead as Impact and decides to give up the webs. But at dinner, Aunt May tells him to keep doing what he's doing if it's what he wants to do. The next day, Bromwell waves the Daily Bugle at Peter, indicating the front page photo Pete took, and tells him he let him down, abandoning his lab work for the very work he begged him to avoid. He tells Peter that he has done all he can and that he's letting him go from his job. Pete can tell that Bromwell is hoping he will ask for another chance but Peter doesn't. He has come to completely understand that he does not become Spidey for thrills but to help people and that Uncle Ben and Aunt May would approve if they knew. Or, as he puts it, "Love the power. Guess I'll just have to live with the responsibility."
Had you told me that a Spidey story (and a prose story at that) about Doc Bromwell witten by Danny Fingeroth was going to be cracking Iâd have never believed you.
Fingerothâs body of Spidey work is a mixed bag to put it kindly. This is the man who wrote arguably the single best page of Mary Jane ever in Web of Spider-Man #6, eloquently summing up her emotional conflict regarding her romantic feelings for Spidey. But this is also the man who editorially mandated the creation of Maximum Carnage.
And yet here he doesnât make a single misstep.
Okay that isnât exactly true. His opening narration makes Peter sounds like a goddam psychopath. âLove the power. Hate the responsibility.â ErâŚ.thatâs not exactly true, Peter has moments of enjoyment of his power and frustrations over the burdens it places upon him. But he doesnât truly revel in his power and typically treats his responsibilities as simply something that HAS to be done moreso than something he resents doing. But thatâs nothing compared to ââŚto take what I need. And to make anybody who gets in my way real sorry they got there.â
WTF dude! I was half expecting that the twist here was going to be that this wasnât Peter speaking but it was. Fingeroth nicely bookends these sentiments by the end of the story but that doesnât change the fact those sentiments shouldnât be there in the first place.
You can maybe just handwave this as Peter being in a really bad mood and not believing what he is thinking. But I dunno, I suspect the real intent here was to clumsily set up something to BE bookended by the end of the story and more poignantly to smack the readers in the face with the central theme of the story. This lack of subtly rears its head again towards the end of the story when Fingeroth seriously spells out for us that Impact is a dark reflection of Spider-Man and the exact ways how. Everything the dialogue says is correct and Impact is actually a very good reflection of Spidey. But couldnât Fingeroth have been a tad more subtle about it?
But other than that this story unto itself is pretty much flawless. I say unto itself because through no fault of Fingeroth the storyâs placement withint he anthology is kind of weird. It clearly takes place after ASM #33 as there are very direct references and fallout from the Master Planner Trilogy. However the nature of the story also makes it highly unlikely to take place after ASM #39 because in that issue Peter is shaken by Bromwell informing him of just how frail Aunt May is. He pretty much tells Peter that if May learns his secret she will keel over dead. So this happens between ASM #33 and #39 but the Looter story clearly happens after ASM #36. Whilst far from inconceivable that this story could happen afterwards, because the last story with the Goblin was obviously tipping the hat to ASM #39-40 this story wouldâve been better placed just before the Looter story. As is itâs oddly the THIRD story in this book to take place in this extremely small and specific gap of time after ASM #36 but before ASM #39.
Enough of the nitpicks though. I said this story was a gem and I stand by that.
What pleasantly surprised me most about this story was that Fingeroth seemed to be able to handle the prose format better than every other writer thus far sans perhaps DeFalco.
He wisely knows to emphasis the inner conflicts within the charactersâ heads and play up the soap opera rather than leaning in on the action setpieces.
And yet there are two significant action set pieces in this story. Indeed the crux of the whole story REVOLVES around the physical danger Peter puts himself in by going into action. Fingeroth handled these deftly. The action wasnât over explained and painted a clear picture in your head but didnât linger too much. Sure you might feel things would be more interesting if you could actually see things but you arenât drifting off as the writer belabors the combination of punches and kicks Spidey lands. Itâs all very streamlined and designed to support the emotional arc of the story as opposed to the action being the point unto itself or simply the means to REACH a conclusion.
In this regard Fingeroth actually edges out DeFalco. Reading/listening through DeFalcoâs story the action scenes can just be boiled down to Spidey fights some thugs, drags out the fight for pictures and then one them accidentally dies the specifics donât matter even though we do get them.
Here Fingeroth forgoes the specifics to simply give you the broad beats to the fight (Impact throws a car, Spidey webs people to safety, etc) whilst ensuring he returns to Spideyâs inner thoughts and peppering in dialogue that is moving the plot and exploring the themes, even if it is simply lightly.
In a way this is a rare example of an action set piece that works BETTER in prose than it would visually. Sure Mark Bagley or Ron Frenz could embellish the fight scene to make it look cool, but the visions of a possible future Peter imagines are more potent and organic when we simply read his train of thought like this. Were it a comic such dialogue would come off as excessive or (if communicated through art) needlessly existential. Additionally as a villain goes Impact is fairly generic, but having him not have any visual presence mitigates that because his importance is more about what he is doing and why than having a dynamic appearance.
To go back to Bromwell, heâs developed more here than heâs been in over 55 years of Spider-History. Were he written like this in his appearances he mightâve become a more beloved character. Whatâs great is how organic his personality feels. We learn new stuff about him but it feels like a totally logical extrapolation of what little we saw of him in the 1960s. He is a quintessential doctor and Fingeroth lends him a surprising amount of nuance. He isnât endlessly caring, he has his limits but even so the fact that he wanted Peter to ask him for a second chance at the end was a brilliant touch. Itâs a small moment but it helps make Bromwell feel more multidimensional.
And because of this characterization the story earns the pathos of Peter letting him down. You feel sad for Bromwell and for Peter that things didnât work out for both of them.
Aunt May is also done very well here. She is in typical Aunt May mode but Fingeroth chooses to make that the central conflict of the story rather than a background element. Refreshingly though the issue isnât that May is on her deathbed, but rather the impact (if you pardon the pun) upon her if anything happens to Peter. Â The story is almost a spiritual cousin to JMSâ opus âthe Conversationâ in that it comes to a reasonable and positive resolution.
What in particular what holds this all together is the brilliant (yet rarely used) idea of treating Peterâs cover story as Spideyâs photographer as a metaphor for him being Spider-Man. Itâs something thatâs pretty clever when you think about it because the cover story means his loved ones go into relationships with him knowing he takes risks and potentially endangers them, just as if they knew he was Spidey.
Through treating the cover story as a metaphor Fingeroth is able to have Peter get a lot of feelings about being Spidey off of his chest. This chiefly comes in the form of his bookeneded confrontations with Bromwell, his angry (and highly unjustified) outburst at the start and his quiet resigned acceptance at the end.
Perhaps the best bi of narration in relation to Peterâs character was when Fingeroth spelled out that Peter might enjoy being Spidey but even if he didnât heâd do it anyway because he was hooked on helping people. It eloquently emphasis the innate heroism and core of the character. And it does so in a nuanced way too as too often writers have Peter outright hate being Spider-Man or else cynically lean on the idea heâs a thrill junkie of some kind. Fingeroth gets that peter DOES like his work but that isnât the reason he does it.
Nuance is actually the key word here. There is a lovely sequence where the story acknowledges that Peter might subconsciously be avoiding Impact out of a loss of confidence. It plays very realistically. How often in life has one bad moment shaken us up and made us hesitant to do things we previously did without even thinking about it.
Really I donât know what else to say about this story that isnât self-evident by just experiencing it for yourself.
Tiny issues aside itâs really quite excellent and highly recommended.
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Klance Au Month - Day 1 - Coffee Shops
This was not supposed to be so long. And I can in no way guarantee I will do prompts everyday, but I definitely want to do some! (rip my other fics)
Lance from Astro:
Keith gets soaked when he goes out for a run in the rain so hits up a coffee shop for shelter. Here he finds a boy claiming to know him and a barista who wants nothing more than for him, and his dripping wet self, to leave. When Keith realises he has no money, the stranger steps in...
Also available on ao3:Â https://archiveofourown.org/works/17626292
Keith had always been impulsive. As a kid that meant punching the little shit who decided to steal his crayon. As a teenager, it was skipping classes when there was something far more interesting happening across town. And as a student, it was going out as soon as he even glimpsed the sunâs rays peeking out between the sheets of grey cloud. Yeah, Keith had calmed down a lot in his old age. Or maybe heâd just learnt to deal with the frequently irritating occurrences of daily life better. Thatâs what Shiro would say, patting Keith on the back whilst wearing that well-practiced big brother smile that said âIâm proud of you,â that Keith read as âplease punch meâ.
Shiro had introduced Keith to running. At the time, Keith hadnât been to class in three weeks. Just moped about the house all day like a lonely vampire. But the sun had been shining and Shiro along with it. Heâd dragged Keith off the couch and shoved him into some running shoes. Five years later, here Keith was, shorts on, headphones in, hair up. And the sun was shining gloriously for a cool February morning.
That was, when he left.
Now it was pouring like theyâd suffered a monthlong a draught. They hadnât. It had been raining on and off for two weeks now, and every day had been more miserable than the first. So, when Keith spotted the golden rays in the morning, youâd think heâd realise that it would be brief. That objects in motion, stay in motion. Nope. Keith ran out all guns blazing. And now, he was currently dripping wet as if heâd dived into the deep end of the pool, clothes and all.
His feet squelched in his trainers, and every foot fall blasted muddy water up his calves. His skin was covered in a thin membrane of sweat, rain and dirt and his clothes chafed with every slight movement. He huffed down the path, river on his right, houses on his left. He was exactly halfway around his usual route and this seemed to only encourage the storm, wind picking up and sweeping cold tendrils between the now permanent creases off his shirt.
Panting along the path, he finally got out onto the concrete of the quay. Usually it was bustling with tourists and locals alike. Boats lined the canal, rusted tractors lay abandoned above them, kids rolled around the grass and parents yelled at them to keep away from the edge. One day, Keith hoped to see one fall in. Trying not to laugh at the thought, he powered into the main hub. Outdoor seating lay around untouched, shop doors were pulled shut against yellow light and not a soul was in sight on the roads. Keith was weaving around bollards, slowing his pace to avoid slipping on the cobbles, when something caught his eye.
A door swung shut, light bouncing off the shining window. Just beyond, a figure hugged a trench coat tight to their body and slipped away into the silver stripes. Keith looked at the building. It was a modest one, coloured a pale blue with flaking paint and flower boxes full of drooping flowers. White plastic chairs were propped forward against similar tables, water collecting in pools across the surface. The window was steamed up, and the streaks warping the glass were painted with licks of orange from the indoor lights. It looked warm, and the rush of air from the door had the smell of coffee winding up Keithâs nose like smoke. Maybe he could afford to wait out the rain inside?
Keith swung into the cafĂŠ and was immediately assaulted with heat. He shivered on instinct, dragging his feet against the welcome mat as he looked around the room. It was small. White tables and colourful chairs cluttered the space. The counter was painted bright turquoise and held large glass domes filled with pretty pastryâs and delicate cakes. Beyond it was a loud machine, standing sturdy like a bodyguard and squirting out drinks with high-pitched screeches and hisses. Lining the window was a honey coloured table, with tall metal stools standing bright red against it. Keith made a beeline for them, swiping a hand across his face and shaking out his hair. Removing his head phones, he dropped them down on the bench and dug his phone out of his soaked shorts. That canât have been good for it.
âSir, youâre dripping.â
Keith jumped at being addressed. Behind him, a thin man glared at him with piercing eyes. Blond hair was sleeked back against his head so tightly that Keith could see every undulation of his scalp. Undulation being a bit of an overstatement to say it was more like his head was perfectly round and there were precisely zero dips in which to undulate with. Everything about him was startling perfect now Keith thought about it. Well-kept nails, creaseless uniform, apron free of any kind of stain.
âOh, I, uhâŚâ Keith looked down to find a puddle forming. Oops?
The man made a noise. All nose and disregard. Keith watched him raise a single, well-plucked eyebrow before leaving. Keith shuddered. Maybe this was the wrong place to dry off?
He placed his phone on the table and grabbed a few napkins from a pot nearby. Drying off as best he could he sat down.
âKeith?â
He turned to the voice. Behind him, on one of the small square tables, was a boy. He had curly brown hair stuffed under a wooly hat, tanned skin stretched over pointy features and curious blue eyes that narrowed their way towards Keith. Leaning forward, he tilted his head at Keith and pursed his lips. Then they were suddenly splitting into a wide curve and Keith realised it was his turn to speak. He instinctively opened his mouth, waiting to say a name, but it never arrived. He realised too late he had no idea who this person was. He clapped his mouth shut again, dread filling his stomach. The boy seemed about Keithâs age, and did know his name. All evidence pointed to them being at least passing acquaintances. But Keith couldnât place him anywhere. So, he did the normal thing and just stared.
âItâs me, Lance.â The boy said, raising his eyebrows. Keith continued to stare.
âFrom astro?â
Astro? Astronomy? Keith took the astronomy module. It was his favourite in fact. He loved stars and the mysterious objects space tried to hide from Earth. He never missed a class. And this person? He took it too? Keith brought the lecture theatre up to the forefront of his mind. Keith liked to sit at the front, near the edge - no-one to block his view and easy to make a quick exit. People rarely sat near him, and to be fair, people rarely turned up to lectures these days. How was Keith supposed to recall him?
âIâm in your tutorial class.â
Ah. The vision changed to a small classroom, whiteboard at the front with a permanent dent in the middle that gathered various conspiracy theories. The course leader, a shrewd rat-like woman with thin rimmed glasses, stood at the front writing equations. There was the guy who only showed up the first day and never again. The girl who always did her make-up before the start â oddly, without a mirror. The two guys who always arrived late. That first day when one of them turned and introduced himself to Keith. Oh. The blob cleared into what resembled a human before it blurred together with reality. Lance. From astro.
âThere.â The guy sighed, ânice of you to remember me.â
Keith shrugged. He was beyond politeness these days. Itâs not like theyâd spoken more than that one time on the first day. Why would Keith remember him? Just as he settled himself back in his seat, Lance was talking again.
âHow come you were out running in this?â
Keith let out a growl, âwell it wasnât like this when I left.â
The boy snickered behind him and Keith found himself turning toward the noise despite himself. Lanceâs nose was wrinkled with the effort, eyes crinkling at the sides as he hid it in the table.
âFair.â He said, âguess some of us would check the forecast first though.â
Keith rolled his eyes, âlike you canât just look out the window.â
The words were more for himself than anyone else, he wasnât planning on starting a conversation, hadnât planned to see anyone he knew. So, he was already looking back at the rain dripping down the glass when Lance snorted.
âSorry, sorry,â he mused when Keith regarded him again. He shook his head, trying to hide his smile behind a hand, âyouâre just- not what I expected.â
âExcuse me?â
Expected? What was Lance doing getting expectations of him? They just met.
âNo, no! I didnât mean, like not in a bad way. I justâŚâ
He bit his lip, face the faintest tint of red. Keith found it irritating. People always made some kind of assumption when they met him. He used to play to it â if people thought he was a bad kid then he was going to be a bad kid. He remembered Shiroâs sigh, the lines in his brow that were verging on permanent, the sadness in his voice when he said âwhy is this the one thing you wonât rebel against?â It stuck with Keith. It was such a strange thing to say. Keith always misbehaved. He refused to be told how to be - where to sit in the dinner hall, how to dress properly to impress foster parents, when to smile even when you didnât mean it. He rebelled against everything.
And thatâs when he realised what Shiro meant. People were always telling him he was no good. They didnât even know him, and yet he was labelled a âdifficultâ child. Not a kid for âfirst timersâ. He would struggle through school, make trouble in the workplace and never amount to anything. But that wasnât true. Keith was smart. He believed in rules â when they were fair. And he knew that smiling didnât make you okay, just fooled other people into thinking you were. Shiro made a damn good point. Keith was just toeing the line. So, he quit lying. And
did what he wanted. Like a true rebel, he went to class, studied hard, smiled at Shiroâs lame jokes and let the words of others run off his back like water.
But above all, he refused to acknowledge anyone who paid him, or anyone else, that treatment. Which now meant Lance. He turned to the window.
âI meant I thought you were smart!â
And now he thought Keith was dumb?
âNo wait! That didnât come out right! I meantâŚâ
Lance sounded kind of desperate. Shame. Keith wasnât going to turn around. He sighed, flicking a menu over on the table.
âSorry.â
It was the tiniest noise. More like a whimper. It didnât really match the rest of their conversation. Keith dared a glance back. Lance was frowning down at his notebook, eyebrows in a furrow like he was cursing the thing. That was different. No-one ever used to apologise. Well, they never meant it. They never looked that upset about it, like it hurt them to hurt someone else. Keith opened his mouth to speak.
âYou gonna order anything?â
Keith glanced up to find smooth head looming. He looked as if Keith was a grave inconvenience, a stain on his perfect coffee-shop world.
âIf you donât order anything, Iâm going to have to ask you to leave.â
Keith breathed through the irritation, squeezing his hands into fists. The waiter had a fair point, but he didnât have to make it with such disdain. Keith was still a customer, he just hadnât bought anything yet.
âAlright,â Keith mumbled, stepping up to reach into his back pocket. His hand slid against his ass, and then straight down to his thigh. Crap. These were his running shorts. He had no money.
Keith looked at the waiter. The waiter looked at Keith. Keith looked at the window. The rain threw itself against the glass like it was going to attack him. He shuddered.
âIâll buy.â
Keith spun around. Lance was leaning against the back of his chair, fixing the waiter with a face dripping with raw, smug energy. His card sat between two slender fingers and he twirled it in the air.
The waiter sighed, clearly uncaring for the whole ordeal. Keith on the other hand, was still in shock.
âNo, no, itâs alright.â He said firmly, gathering up his few belongings, âIâll just go.â
âNo.â Lance interrupted, âIâll buy.â
His eyes were resolute, daring Keith to argue. Keith took the bait.
âNo. I donât want to owe you.â
âAnd you wonât.â Lance said lightly, following the waiter to the counter. âItâs an apology, for speaking with my foot in my mouth.â
He stopped to look up at the chalk board. Drinks were written in curly white lettering, with pastel coloured sketches drawn next to them.
âIâll have a hot chocolate, please.â
Fingers clicked across the till.
âWith marshmallows and cream?â The clerk asked in a bored voice.
Lance turned to face Keith then, elbows leaning back on the counter. He poured his gaze over Keith, right from his head down to his toes. Keith felt exposed, stomach swooping at the glint in Lanceâs eye. Too busy fighting the heat spreading through his body, he didnât get the chance to interrupt when Lance was speaking again.
âOh yeah. Add extra sprinkles too, I want it extra festive.â
Keith let his mouth fall slack. Where the hell did he get that idea from? For one, Keith drank coffee. Black. And he didnât do all the fancy stuff. He wanted a plain and simple drink and he did not want to draw attention. Lance on the other hand, drew all of Keithâs. He had a huge grin plastered across his face as he threw his head back laughing. Round-head rolled his eyes, dialling up the order and sparing Lance one of his disdainful glares.
âIâll bring it to your table.â
âThanks, Lotor!â
Then Lance was flouncing back to his seat and Keith was still standing next to his own chair. What had just happened?
âYou didnât need to apologise.â Keith rushed. Lance looked up at him, blankly. Then a smirk pulled against his lip.
âSo, you already forgave me?â
âNo?â
Had Keith forgiven him? He couldnât really remember what he was apologising for now. The whole⌠event, had him a little bit lost.
âSo, then youâll need a drink.â Lance said solemnly.
âNo, wait.â
Lance grinned. Keith struggled. With this conversation, with this person, this whole situation.
âTake a seat, Keith.â
The chair opposite Lance moved out on his own, like a ghost. Keith approached with caution. He did not sit, but Lance shifted when he arrived, that same grin plastered on his thin lips.
âCome on, sit with me.â He crowed, swaying side to side.
Keith eyed the seat cautiously.
âLook, I really didnât mean to offend you.â
He was looking down at his book again, pen drawing absent circles in the margin of his work.
âI was hoping we could be friends.â
Keith sighed. He shouldnât sit down, shouldnât be indulging in this. But despite that fact, Keith flopped down. Lance perked up then, shoulders bouncing. But before he could speak, Keith interrupted him âI get it. You didnât mean to offend me. But I still canât accept your drink.â
Lance considered this for a second. âOkay. How about, in exchange for the drink, you help me with my astro coursework?â
He tapped his pen against his notebook and Keith saw that there was also a textbook lying open above it. There were several papers strewn across the table and pens hiding between layers. Lance himself had pen marks all over his fingers and grey loops below his eyes.
âFine.â
That was enough for another one of those blinding grins. Lance seemed abundant with them.
âSo, how come you recognised me?â Keith asked, wanting a distraction from the radiance.
Lance gave a little wiggle and Keith could tell heâd stepped on a landmine. With eyebrows bouncing he sent Keith a mischievous grin, âoh, I never forget a good-looking face.â
Keith nearly choked. Was he being flirted with right now? By a strange boy who shone too brightly for a coffee shop? A strange boy he in fact knew and had somehow missed in the however many weeks theyâd been studying that course?
âClearly I do.â
Lanceâs brows froze in their strange hooks and Keith realised with striking alarm that heâd said that out loud. Oh god. Keith really was too well adjusted to life alone. Maybe he should listen to Shiro more and make some friends? Lanceâs face was still frozen on his and Keith pulled at his shirt. Curse the heating in this place. He really shouldnât have sat down. He glanced back to the window. Was rain really that bad?
âHot chocolate.â
Keith jolted as a cup and saucer landed on the table with a loud clink. Â Liquid swished out the side as the tidal wave settled, swirl of cream sloshing above. A light dusting of cocoa covered the top, pink marshmallows cut into the shape of hearts thrown haphazardly across the drink. The waiter levelled them with a look.
âWith extra festive.â
âThank you so very much.â Lance said through a giggle. The waiter rolled his eyes, sweeping back to his post at the counter. Keith stared at the drink. Then he stared back up at Lance. The boy was just sparkling eyes above two hands that covered his entire face all the way up to his spiky nose. Keith shook his head fighting off a smirk. He picked up the drink, lifted it to his lips and stared right into Lanceâs glistening eyes as he took a sip.
Lance snorted.
âPerfectly matches your aesthetic.â
Keith shrugged, now losing the fight against his lips. âI dunno, I think itâs a bit understated.â
âYouâre right.â Lance said, poking his pen into Keithâs face, âitâs just not enough. Shall I call Lotor back and get him to bring us some glitter.â
Keith shook his head. âIâm thinking sparklers.â
Lance burst out laughing. He was all teeth and no eyes and Keith found the noise buzzing in his chest too. He quickly swigged his drink before it could be set free. The taste wasnât bad either, if he was being honest. Sweet and creamy, tickling his lip as he drank. He was quite content until, one of the marshmallows rolled off and hit him in the eye. Keith frowned, glanced up and saw Lance pretending to read his textbook whilst barely containing more giggles. Keith shook his head but couldnât shake the warmth in his cheeks.
âSo, Iâm confused on Quasars.â
Keith frowned, putting down his drink.
âWho isnât?â He said, shuffling around to get a look at what Lance was reading. After a moment of no more words, Keith looked up and found Lance staring.
âWhat?â
âOh!â Lance whipped back around to his book, âItâs just, uh, itâs nice.â
âWhat?â
âHearing you say that.â
âWhat, âwho isnâtâ?â
Lance nodded, still not meeting Keithâs eye.
âYeah. Guess I thought I was the only one.â
Keith didnât tend to speak to the people in his class. Thatâs how he didnât know Lance. He just kept to himself. But that meant he was privy to his course mateâs conversations. Namely, that nearly every topic theyâd covered since the start of term had at least somebody complaining. To Keith, it was a given that absolutely no-one truly knew what they were doing on their degree.
Lance wasnât Keith though. Lance didnât just talk to strangers, he went out of his way to make friends with them. Those kinds of people always eluded Keith. Shiro was the same â he took in Keith, and from their first meeting, Keith had been convinced he was some kind of next level angel. But whilst Shiro was adept at caring for others, Keith discovered over time he struggled letting other people look after him. It was something Keith hadnât had much of an issue with â once someone was actually willing to do it, he liked being looked after. But not everyone was Keith. And just because they werenât Keith, that didnât make them perfect. Or evil. And with the words Lance just spoke, it occurred to Keith, that he might have misjudged him. The thought made his stomach twist in a guilt he immediately wanted to fix it. Â
âTrust me youâre not.â He said firmly. âEveryone struggles, youâre doing fine.â
Lance looked up at him then, lips parted as his pen fell to the paper in a dull thud. Keith immediately wanted to claw the words back. He should have thought more before speaking. They were far more intense out loud. Almost threateningly so. Keith scraped the barrel for some sort of distraction. Steer them away from his creepy intenseness. âWhy-uh, whyâd you think that?â
Lanceâs stare held a second longer â a second that burned itself straight through Keith. Then he was reclaiming his pen and speaking again with a sigh, âmy housemates. They just- they get it all, yâknow? One lecture and theyâre good to go.â
âI feel dead after half an hour.â Keith said honestly.
There were those who seemed to absorb everything, regurgitating hours later and sweeping through their exams. But Keith was not one of them. And even then, he had a suspicion he only saw what they wanted him to see â not the hours they studied the night before. Maybe even yearsâ some people were that dedicated after all.
Lance let out a short laugh. âMe too. Alfor opens his mouth and Iâm just dead.â
Keith snickered and soon they were discussing the ins and outs of all their lecturers. It was fun. Keith found talking to Shiro about his disdain for academics was like bouncing water balloons off a concrete wall. He was never impressed. Lance, on the other hand, became invested. His enthusiasm grew with his pitch, hands thrown around in fury as he recalled a particularly awful lecture that wouldnât have been out of place playing in the back of a hearse. Keith had said as much and Lance had laughed so hard, he spat coffee everywhere. The waiter, Lotor, as Lance called him, was far from enthusiastic about their patronage. He wiped up the spill with a huff, eyes sharp enough to cut glass. As soon as he was gone, Lance fell apart laughing telling Keith about the time he put glue in Lotorâs hair at primary school and the other was yet to forgive him. Lance had zero regrets and Keith would probably commit the same crime now.
The more they talked the more Keith found himself watching Lanceâs mouth. He noticed now, how animated it was. It could go from a small âoâ to a wide-open grin in a blink of an eye. His teeth were bright white, lined up like crooked little houses along his gums. Then there were his lips. They were pink and looked soft and every so often Lance ran his tongue along them. Keith wanted to do that too. The thought surprised him, and he quickly found somewhere else to look. He could blame the warm cafĂŠ for his reddening cheeks.
Keith hadnât kept track of time, he hadnât felt the need when he was happily filling the moment. That was until he heard the door chime and noticed they were the last guests in the cafĂŠ. Must have been a long moment.
Lotor appeared at Lanceâs back, a looming vampire.
âFive minute âtil closing.â He said curtly. Lance jumped at the proximity.
âJesus,â he breathed, holding a hand to his heart, âdoes he even have footsteps?â
Keith shook his head, looking out the window. âWheels for feet.â
Lance laughed beside him. It was a nice sound, loud without even trying. It was like it burst out from nowhere to set the room alight. The more Keith heard it, the more he wanted to hear it. He was stuck in a vicious cycle that he didnât particularly want to leave.
âWhich way you heading?â Lance asked, shuffling his belongings together. The rain was still trailing down the windows and the wind rattled the windows, demanding its next victim. Keith sighed, as he got to his feet.
âPenny Road.â
âOh! Iâm just by the roundabout!â
Maybe he didnât have to leave quite yet?
âI, uhâŚâ Lance continued, talking to the ground. He was rubbing his neck, now fully dressed in his navy blue rain coat and backpack swung over one shoulder. âIâve got an umbrella.â
He looked up with a smile. A bashful one this time, with pink cheeks. Keith didnât know what to make of it. The expression was so different to his previous ones. It made him want to lean forward and squish it. But that would be inappropriate, so Keith focused firmly on the words
âGood for you?â
Lance blinked at him, before a more familiar expression tucked himself against his cheeks, âI meant we could share it.â
âOh.â Keithâs cheeks burned hotter than coals. He ducked his head before it could be seen and stepped towards the door. âSure. Iâd uh, Iâd like that.â
Lanceâs feet tapped along the wood until he was at his side again, grabbing a brightly coloured umbrella from the bucket by the door before swooshing it open. Keith grimaced as he was hit with cold air and icy blades.
âMight be a bit windy for that.â
Lance laughed, ânah, itâll be fine when weâre away from the river.â
Lance was right. It was fine once they were walking along the streets lined with painted town houses. Keith couldnât help noticing how snugly the two of them fitted beneath the bright fabric dome. He also couldnât help noticing his urge to link his arm with Lanceâs. He told himself it was to just to keep the heavy umbrella steady but that was a lie.
Not too much later they arrived at Keithâs door, startling red against the black and whites of the rest of the street. Keith felt a little smug about bagging this one. It was the best house, even with the cracks in its cobble stone path and the overgrown bushes lining the street and most of the garden. The rain had died down a little, pattering rhythmically against the umbrella like a tent and Keith lingered beside Lance. The peaks of the clouds above were dyed a deep orange where the sun was finally cutting through the grey as if giving its last cry of the day before it sunk down for bed.
âWell, this was a nice way to end a date.â
Keith felt his stomach jump, throwing the breath from his lungs. âDate?â
âUhh, I meanâŚâ Lanceâs face was so bright it was matching Keithâs door. He blinked widely before looking at the ground and mouthing many words but saying very few. âIt doesnât have to be, I just uhh, I thought it would be nice, but I mean-â
âWell, in that case...â
Keith leant in close, right up to Lanceâs freckles. He pressed a kiss to a flaming cheek, smiling at how it was warm like a mug of hot chocolate.
âSee you in class.â He whispered, before peeking up at Lanceâs face. It was red with fluster, blue eyes wide and gleaming as his mouth wobbled into something that resembled a smile. Keith returned the favour, before pulling the umbrella down and letting the rain ping off it. âLance.â
#klance au month#klance#klance fluff#klance fic#coffee shop au#vld fanfic#my writing#my post#can you believe i'd never written a coffee shop au#who am i?
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Valentineâs Chocolate
So... Iâm sorry this is so late ><
I had meant to have this done by Valentineâs Day, but it ended up being a lot longer than I anticipated... (6,595 words)
Anyway!! This is a gift for @x0h-worm
The prompt was trans boys and Valentineâs Day fluff
Rated T I guess? For cursing and sexual imagery/innuendos
I hope you like it!!!!!!
  Saihara and Ouma sat on the formerâs bed with a laptop resting on their thighs.  The two boys were tired from the long day at school, and deciding to spend the evening together, as most of the other students were going out.  Saihara had changed into a black shirt and jeans, while Ouma wore an oversized sweater and dark leggings.  The two were huddled together for warmth as even with the abundance of blankets, the cold from the faulty heating system could still be felt. For the two boys, being able to be alone together in private was like a sanctuary.  They could take off their binders and complain about their families, or just play games and make jokesâjokes that they could only make with each other.
      The two boys had begun hanging out together when they accidentally discovered that they were both trans.  Ouma had broken into Saiharaâs room, still for reasons he refuses to admit, while Saihara was changing shirts.  Saihara began to panic, but Ouma quickly left and shut the door, waiting for him to exit on his own.  Afterwards, when Saihara finally exited his room, Ouma consoled him both by explaining that he wouldnât tell anyone, as he assumed that was what Saihara wanted, and that he was also trans.  They started off by bonding over both being trans boys: talking about their situations growing up, where they got their binders, which haircuts would make them feel masculine but still cute at the same time, and so forth.
  Over time, Saihara and Ouma were no longer just two trans boys connecting over their shared gender identity, but rather they became friends.  Saihara had started to notice little tickles Ouma performed when lying, although barely visible to an untrained eye, but the detective saw them, and Ouma slowly became more willing to open up about himself to Saihara, even if only a little.  It was a strange change to the others, they didnât comprehend where their sudden friendship came from.  Ouma had always appeared fascinated by Saihara, but the taller always seemed annoyed and exasperated by the shorter boyâs presence.  Granted, that was true in the past, but because he had never given Ouma the time of day to really stop and consider him as his own person.  With someone with such a grand air about them, it can be hard to remember theyâre people tooâlike celebrities.
  But the two had become close and cared deeply for the other.  And thatâs whatâs led to this current moment: Saihara and Ouma sharing the small twin bed and way too many blankets, with a faint light from the computer screen illuminating their faces.  The reason for this impromptu hang out was, in fact, because it was Valentineâs Day.  Saihara usually spent time after classes studying with Momota and Harukawa or with Akamatsu, but the couple had date plans and Akamatsu had blushed and awkwardly stated that there was something that she needed to do.  Ouma had, being just around the corner, overheard that Saihara was alone and didnât want to leave his âbeloved Saihara-chanâ alone on such a night as this one.  Saihara had chuckled softly at the other boyâs dramatic gestures, but accepted the invitation.  It was, of course, totally platonic.  And if Ouma had a bar of chocolate that, if asked, was totally from the school store in his bag, well, it was just obligation chocolate because he didnât want his friend to feel lonely.
  That was a lie of course.
  Kokichi Ouma, the Super High School Level Supreme Leader, was gay.
  And totally and irrevocably head-over-heels in love with Shuichi Saihara. He had always considered the other to be extremely pretty, and he enjoyed that he could never quite pin Saihara down.  As in, he couldnât always figure out his next choice of action.  Thatâs what he meant by that.  But as he spent time with Saihara, Oumaâs feelings grew and grew; they blossomed into what one could only call a crush.  But Ouma preferred Panta.  Donât judge him, he deals with emotions by joking and lying.
  âAre you warm enough?â  Ouma looked over at the owner of the gentle voice and hummed in response.
  âNo way, Saihara-chan,â he sang, âitâs colder than Santaâs house in here! You need that pig whore Iruma-chan to make you a heater that calculates your body temperature and changes the roomâs temperature appropriately,â he pouts.  âIf you donât get a working heater soon I might never come back.â
  Saihara rolled his eyes, but a faint smiled graced his lips and made Oumaâs heart melt, almost slipping into a smile himself.  âIf thatâs the case then we could always go to your room,â he offered, knowing that Ouma was lying.
  âWe couldâve just done that from the start, you know,â he replied with a nonchalant air and monotone voice.  Truthfully, he preferred being in Saiharaâs room, despite the cold.  It was cleaner than his and much easier to navigate, it reminded him of Saihara everywhere he looked, and, most importantly, the cold meant they had to cuddle super close.  And Ouma sure as hell wasnât lying when he says he enjoys the closeness of their bodies.  Cuddling. For warmth.  Because itâs February and February is fucking cold.  âGeez, Saihara-chan is so mean, making me freeze to death in this cold!â
  âIf youâre so cold, why arenât you using the blankets?â Saihara chuckled and nodded towards the abandoned pile.
  âOops,â Ouma cheered, âya got me!  Yeah, that was a lie.â  He rested his hands behind his head and smiled.  Saiharaâs room might not have been as cold as the North Pole, but it was still cold. His mind was reeling with the fact that today was Valentineâs Day, the day one romance, love, and confessions. Pair that with his big gay crush, and he was somewhat distracted.  He climbed under the blankets anyway, mumbling, âOr maybe that was a lie.  Who knows?â  Saihara just shook his head with a quiet laugh.
  âYou seem a bit distracted,â Saihara mentioned when Ouma was situation under the Super High School Level blanket pile.  Of course his beloved Saihara-chan would notice that, but it wasnât anything the supreme leader couldnât lie or joke his way out of.
  âNo way,â tears started to form in his eyes as Ouma hiccupped and stuttered. âCould it⌠Could it be that Saihara-chan never realized my feelings?â he started to sob loudly. Overdramatic.  The bigger he cried than the more it looked like a lie.  Because Ouma couldnât risk Saihara knowing the truth. He hated telling the truth, but for Saihara he tried.  Sometimes. But not this.  He didnât want to lose the one person at the Ultimate Academy that took the time to look past his lies, to look past his façade, and befriend him.
  âOuma!â Saihara lunged his hands forward to grab the otherâs shoulders. Ouma, in turn, just laughed.
  âNeeheehee, Saihara-chan did you actually fall for that?  Geez, I thought you were finally able to see through all my lies.â  He started tearing up again, âdoes our friendship mean nothing to you?â
  âOuma,â Saihara sighed and retracted his hands back to his sides, âI just didnât want you falling off the bed again.â  He blushed and Ouma giggled.  He had been fake crying just like now, but became too overzealous and slipped off of the too-small bed.
  âAw,â the supreme leader cooed, âwas my beloved Saihara-chan worried about me?â His voice was airy and melodious, caring the tune of his usual lie, but at the same time it was thick with the hidden truths.
  Saihara sighed.  âLetâs just watch the movie,â he clicked on the mouse pad a few times before looking at Ouma.  âWell? Are you going to join me?â
  Ouma nodded and scooted closer to his friend.  Saihara wiggled into the pillows to get comfortable and rested his head on Oumaâs shoulder, then pressed play.  Saiharaâs warmth seeped through Oumaâs clothes and it made him feel at home. He felt comfortable, having someone there with him, having Shuichi Saihara there with him.  He took a deep breath and guided his eyes to the movie.
  Usually, the two boys watched detective and action movies.  Saihara liked the mystery of the cases and Ouma liked the thrill of watching the good guys fight to win.  But today it seemed that Saihara had chosen to continue the theme of the day.  Thatâs right: Ouma was about to watch a romcom with Saihara.  Now, thatâs nothing to freak out about.  In fact, Ouma could easily complain about how boring the movie would be.  But Saihara looked so content with the change of pace and Ouma was enchanted by the look on his face.  God, this stupid crush was going to kill him.  He might as well just ask Harukawa to save him the trouble.
  A long-haired woman was running through an airport.  Ouma watched as her blonde hair bounced behind her.  He supposed thatâs what he should find attractive: the gorgeous Hollywood actress, with her full-face of makeup and, you know, being a girl.  He tried glancing over at Saihara without turning his head to alert the other.  His long eyelashes obscured most of his golden-grey eyes, but from what little view he had, Ouma could see the woman on the screen reflected in Saiharaâs eyes.  He didnât look too interested in the movie just yet, as it had only started, but he didnât look bored either.  Saiharaâs mouth was slightly ajar, resting neutrally.  His lips were chapped from the cold winterâs air, and Ouma really needed to stop staring at Saiharaâs totally kissable lips.  Well, theyâd probably be more kissable if he used chap stick, maybe grape flavored, but Saihara had once told Ouma that it felt too much like lipstick to him and it made him uncomfortable, and Ouma respected that.  That didnât mean he didnât have at least three grape-flavored chap sticks on his person at all times in case something actually were to happen.
  âHave you seen this movie before?â Saihara asked, turning his head up slightly to look at Ouma.  Ouma felt somewhat awkward having their eyes meet immediately, feeling like he was caught in the act of staring.
  âYep!  Itâs super good,â he lied.  âYou wonât believe what happens when Maribelleââ
  âStop lying and actually pay attention to the movie,â Saihara interrupted and turned back to the screen.  âThe protagonistâs name is Jane.  Iâm not sure whatâs so interesting about my face but,â he paused momentarily, an awkward blush on his cheeks, âif youâre that bored we can change the movie.â
  âNeeheehee,â Ouma slit his eyes at Saihara, making a face that put others on edge, but then quickly changed into an overeager smile, âwhat?  No way!  Werenât you listening?  I said I love this movie!â  He shifted his body more into Saiharaâs space to be extra dramatic, almost pushing the other over the edge of the bed.  Saihara screeched and reached his arms around Oumaâs neck to steady himself, holding on tight until he was sure that he wasnât going to fall.
  âMy, my, Saihara-chan!â Ouma gasped dramatically, âhow forward of you!â Saihara looked up into deep purple eyes and awkwardly released his grip, stumbling over mummers of apologies as his face heated up.  They had been so close.  Honestly if Saihara had fallen and taken Ouma down with him, thereâs no guarantee that Ouma wouldnât use that opportunity to âaccidentallyâ kiss Saihara.  Thatâs a lie.  Thereâs a one hundred percent guarantee that he would absolutely do that.
  The two leaned back into each other and continued watching the movie. Saihara rewound it a little because they had missed a few scenes while their faces had been mere centimeters apart. The memory made Ouma want to blush. God, he was so gay.  He tried to focus on the movie, but watching some attractive girl get with a mediocre guy wasnât really his thing.  Heâd rather see himself get with the most gorgeous guy on the planet.  Ouma had thought about what it would be like if they were dating.  Obviously they would hold hands, and Ouma would flaunt their relationship to everyone.  No, thatâs a lie.  Honestly, Ouma would probably be too hesitant to tell anyone, mostly because he wasnât sure if Saihara would be comfortable telling others.  But, if they were dating, Ouma would be able to kiss Saihara often.  He would stand on his tip toes and firmly press his lips against Saiharaâs chapped ones, maybe sticking his tongue inside the otherâs mouth.  Maybe even eliciting a moan from Saihara, his voice heavy with want andâ
  âWhat are you thinking about?â the same sweet voice that Ouma had just been fantasizing about had interrupted his thoughts.  Ouma jolted slightly, averting his gaze for a moment before meeting Saiharaâs eyes and smirking.
  âOh?  Does Saihara-chan really wanna know?â he leaned into Saiharaâs face with a mischievous glint in his eyes, masking the embarrassed blush that threatened to spill across his cheeks.  âMaybe I was thinking about how much I find Jane attractive, and what Iâd do with her if she were here next to me instead of you.  But thatâs a lie.  I was actually thinking about how itâs just you and me, locked in your room, sharing a bed on Valentineâs Day, and about how much I want to flip over on top of you and roam my hands down your body.  Lower and lower until I reach the hem of your pants andâ.â Saiharaâs scream interrupted him. Ouma retreated back into his own space and watched as Saihara flung his hands around to try to cover his face. His entire face had gone red, including the tips of his ears, and he was spluttering incoherently as he gawked at Ouma. Ouma watched Saihara fidget as he slowly regained some composure, although his face was still incredibly red.
  âOuma!â Saihara screeched, balling his fists into his pants after giving up trying to hide his face without his hat.  âYou canât just⌠You canât just say things like that!  Even if it is a lie.â
  Ouma tilted his head at the otherâs remark.  âOh?  Who said I was lying?â Ouma laughed.  âBut you know,â he sang, once again approaching Saihara, âyou had quite the interesting reaction, Saihara-chan!  Itâs almost as if it was you thinking about doing that to me, neeheehee.â  Saihara swatted Oumaâs face away and turned back to the movie, face never dimming in color.
  âI donât,â Saihara started, âI didnât.â  He groaned.  âI wasnât⌠thinking about that.  I swear! You just⌠You just started talking about⌠stuff, and it was embarrassing.  You canât just⌠talk about⌠stuff like that.  Itâs not good for my heart.â
  âWhy?â Ouma asked.  And before he could stop himself, he tacked on: âare you gay?â
  Saihara looked up at him, and Ouma really hoped his face wasnât as pale as he expected it to be.  Saihara looked away and stared blankly at the computer screen, and Ouma felt choked by the silence, despite it only lasting about two seconds.  âNo,â Saihara spoke up, âIâm bi.â  Ouma blinked down at his friend.  Bi.  Shuichi Saihara was bisexual.  Or at least biromantic.  Bi-something. Bi as in Ouma could actually have a chance with him.  If Saihara saw him that way.  Did Saihara see him that way?  He hoped he did but there was no way.  He was hard enough to be friends with, there was no way someone could have a crush on him. But Saihara never met his expectations; he always went so far beyond and did the unexpected.  So it wasnât impossible.
  âOh, cool,â he replied automatically, sliding back into his movie-watching position, âIâm gay.â
  âCool.â
  âYeah.â
  They continued watching the movie in silence.  It wasnât necessarily an uncomfortable silence, but Oumaâs head was reeling.  Would Saihara think of him differently now that he knew?  Of course not, he was bi, they were similar.  They were both not straight.  They were both trans too.  Why was he so scared of telling Saihara in the first place?  Was it because of his crush?  He didnât want Saihara asking him if he had a crush on him.  But he also did.  Well, even if Saihara did ask him, Ouma would lie.  It was hard enough to finally be able to open up to Saihara about parts of his past, Ouma doesnât think he has the energy to tell the truth about this too.  Maybe one day heâll look back and and tell Saihara about his silly crush with a laugh. Provided they were still friends. He hoped they would be.  Saihara was so important to him; he was the only person outside of DICE that cared about him.  Of course, thatâs not why he loved Saihara, it just happened to be that Saihara was the most important person in the world to Ouma right now.
  âHey,â Saiharaâs tired voice sounded hoarse after not speaking for so long. âIâm not sure what youâre thinking about.  Youâre always thinking.  And I mean, I know Iâm always thinking a lot too, what with all my anxieties and all. But, if youâre worrying over coming out you donât have to.  You always overthink everything.  I mean, I already knew you were trans, and Iâm bi, so⌠Iâm just trying to say that⌠Thank you for trusting me?  I guess? Iâm not actually sure, Iâm sorry. But uh,â he drew out the syllable, trying to think of the right words, âyouâre still Kokichi Ouma.  Thatâs how straight allies usually comfort gay people in TV shows I donât actually know if that was helpful.â  Ouma snorted.  âHah, yeah. I mean like, obviously it doesnât change anything?  Itâs not like Yumeno appeared out of nowhere and put a curse on you that changed your physical appearance.â
  Ouma doubled over, cackling.  âThatâs assuming she can actually use magic!  Sheâs⌠Sheâs always going on about how tiring it would be to use her mana, or how unimportant it is or something.  If⌠If she wanted to,â he took a few deep breaths to calm his laughter.  He chuckled abruptly again for a quick moment before continuing with a more even voice, âIf she wanted to change someoneâs physical appearance all sheâd have to do is tell Chabashira-chan to punch their face in.â
  âOuma, you shouldnât endorse her,â he looked at the other with a twinge of disappointment on his face.
  âAm I wrong though?â
  Saihara was silent.  Ouma held eye contact with his eyes open wide and inquisitive, almost daring Saihara to tell him that yes, he actually was wrong.  âNo,â Saihara breathed out after a moment, succumbing to the fact that Chabashira would in fact punch somebody in the face if Yumeno told her to.
  âExactly!â Ouma declared and slung his arm around Saiharaâs shoulders.  âAnd itâs because of this that I must perform the sacred duty of protecting my beloved Saihara-chanâs beautiful face with my life.â
  Saihara laughed that beautiful, song-like laugh of his and looked at Ouma with such a loving smile on his face.  âYou donât seem to be acting hesitant anymore.  Does that mean you no longer feel awkward?  Thatâs good.â
  Ouma inhaled a large, overdramatic gasp.  âSaihara-chan!  I canât believe you actually thought I was upset!  That was obviously a lie.  Iâm disappointed.â  But Ouma smiled back at him.  It may have been an awkward attempt, but Saihara did make him feel better.
  Ouma removed his arm from Saihara and slithered down to rest his head on the taller boyâs shoulder, reversing their earlier position.  Saihara rewound the video again, and it picked up at some place where Ouma had no idea what was happening because he hadnât been paying attention at all.  Saihara wrapped his arm around Oumaâs side, loosely embracing him.  Ouma was happy.  And that was the truth.  He felt so warm and loved in that moment that the content-ness slowly sung his eyes to close, guiding him into a welcoming sleep.
  When Ouma woke up, he was welcomed to a tight embrace and a face full of Saiharaâs shirt.  Ouma may have enjoyed cuddling, especially with Saihara, but he also enjoyed breathingâsomething that was sort of hard to do in this position.  He squirmed a little bit to duck out of the taller boyâs grasp, something that should have been a lot easier than it wasâand a lot less embarrassing.  Heâs really glad no one saw his desperate attempt to break free from his crush cuddling him.
  When he could finally breathe properly again, Oumaâs hair was in disarray, much more wild than he usually kept it, and his face was red from the struggle and nothing else.  That was another lie.  His face was mostly red because of where his head had been: AKA way too close for his gay little heart to beat slower than 10,000 beats per second, even though Saiharaâs heartbeat was calm, and actually quite soothing to listen too.  Maybe one day Ouma would be able to cuddle him that closely, head against the otherâs chest, listening to his heartbeat; preferably listening to his boyfriendâs heartbeat.  Ouma didnât fight off the blush that consumed his face, unconcerned about being seen, as the only other person here with him was sleeping.
  Ouma watched as Saihara slept, which was not as creepy as it sounded.  He just wanted to make sure he hadnât woken him up in the struggle.  Saiharaâs stomach moved slightly as he breathed, expanding and retracting with each breath, moving his chest as well.  His shirt had risen slightly during the night, exposing just the tiniest sliver of skin.  Saihara looked peaceful.  Ouma quietly got off the bed and retrieved his belongings and put on his shoes.  It may have still been early, but he didnât want to intrude any more.  Besides, they still had class tomorrow.  Or was it today?  Ouma had forgotten to check the time.  He took the chocolate bar out of his bag and placed it on Saiharaâs bedside table. Attached to the sweet was a small tag that read âI loooooooooove you Saihara-chan! ⥠And thatâs not a lie!!!â with a quick drawing of himself winking and blowing an overdramatic kiss.
  He left Saiharaâs room and tiptoed back to his own, being careful no one saw him creeping out of someone elseâs room late at night.  God only knows what kinds of rumors Iruma would start if she caught him.  Once inside his room, Ouma threw his stuff onto the ground and leapt onto the bed, screaming into his pillow.  Well, this was it: he did it.  There were four ways this could go, maybe five if Ouma was being creative.  One: Saihara returns his feelings and everything is great (unlikely, as stated previously).  Two: Saihara doesnât return his feelings and begins to hate him (also unlikely, his beloved Saihara-chan isnât the type of person to hate others).  Three: Saihara doesnât return his feelings but heâs accepting and they still remain friends (this would be incredibly awkward and Ouma would scream if this happens).  Four: Saihara thinks the chocolate and love note are a lie (likely, considering Oumaâs overly-high tendency to lie).  And five: Ouma goes back to Saiharaâs room, picks the lock, and takes the chocolate bar back, pretending nothing ever happened (which he was very tempted to do).
  Ouma sighed and turned over to face the ceiling.  The paint had dried clumpy, so if he focused hard enough he could make out random shapes and give them a story.  The dried specks reminded him of starsâgranted, he had no idea how the constellations were actually shaped, but they were random dots all the sameâand he wished he could watch the stars with Saihara one night, maybe cuddling and talking about how much they love each other.  Ouma placed his right arm over his eyes and groaned; hopefully tomorrow would go well.
  Waking up for the second time that morning was torture.  Ouma slid off of his bed and landed with a quiet thud on the ground.  He laid there for a few moments before slowly getting up and grabbing clothes from the closet.  He stared at his reflection in the mirror for a little bit, too tired to process anything yet, and then sat back down on his bed.  He could feel his eyes struggle to remain open, and just as he was about to let them close, his alarm saying that he would be late if he didnât leave right now began blaring.  He groaned and turned off his phone before sluggishly making his way to his classroom.
  He could hear the loud boisterousness of his classmates from the end of the hallway, and drudged onwards towards it.  When he opened the door, the voices seemed to die down significantly.  Ouma scanned the room briefly with his tired eyes and gave a small smirk.  âOh? Are you all finally realizing Iâm your supreme leader?â he challenged, âIâm glad to see that my loyal subjects bow down quietly before me. Neeheehee!â
  âYo, dude,â Momota chirped out, âwhatâs up with this note?â  He gestured to the small object in Saiharaâs hands and Saihara looked away bashfully.
  âI,â Saihara stammered, eventually making eye contact, âI only showed Momota, but he was really loud and now the whole class knows.â  He ended his statement as if it were a question, and Ouma stared blankly at the chocolate in his hands.
  Ouma threw his hands up behind his head and, mustering up as much as his tired body could asked, âoh, that? Canât you guys read?â  He pouted, âIt says how much I love Saihara-chan!  Thatâs my confession chocolate you meanies,â he willed up some crocodile tears to pour out and loudly started sobbing.
  âGod, just shut up!â Iruma shouted, âNobody cares about your twink-ass crush!â
  At that point the bell rung, and everyone who was still standing took their seats.  Ouma caught Saihara glancing over at him a few times, but, like always, Saihara was the one person Ouma could almost never read.  Unfortunately, that included now.  What was he thinking?  He didnât look put off by the confession, but did he even believe him in the first place?  No, of course not, he made sure to act as though he was lying.
  The day went on as usual: classes passed, Kiibo yelled at Ouma for making a robophobic remark, Harukawa only threatened to kill him four times today, and nobody paid attention to the teacher in the last ten minutes of class before lunch.  Ouma had, gradually, become more awake throughout the day, only falling asleep in class once for about five minutes.  That said, in his tired state this morning he had completely forgotten to eat breakfast, and was now walking slightly faster than he usually did to the dining hall.  Once he had his food, Ouma made his way to one of the outside tables, securely hidden by a tree.  Sometimes he liked to join others just to mess with them, but most of his classmates were still in a Valentineâs Day mood, with the couples flirting more than usual and the single people either complaining about not having a date or about how the holiday is a scam and shouldnât be celebrated.
  Ouma began to eat his meal in peace.  He didnât want to confront anyone right now, completely unrelated to the fact that he doesnât want to be faced with questions about his crush.  Ouma sighed.  That was a lie.  He really should have taken the chocolate back last night.  He heard footsteps approach him, and resigned himself to the fact that of course Gokuhara would want to sit with him anyway, because he was just too nice.  Ouma looked up at the trespasser and nearly dropped his drink.  It was Saihara.
  âWow,â Ouma sang, âis my beloved Saihara-chan joining me for lunch today?  Did Momota-chan and Harukawa-chan kick you out?  That is just so mean.â
  Saihara rolled his eyes and sat down across from Ouma.  âOuma, weâre friends.  Am I not allowed to sit with you?â
  âOf course you are, my beloved Saihara-chan!â  His face grew a tad darker as he leaned in slightly, âbut thatâs not why youâre here, is it?  I can tell. Youâre hiding something.â  He took a few more bites of his food and then looked at the other boy with tears in his eyes.  âI thought,â Ouma hiccupped, âI thought you said we were friends.  Why would you lie to me?â
  Saihara was startled by the outburst, clearly on edge.  He fidgeted around slightly, looking anywhere but at Ouma, which made him more suspicious. âGeez,â Ouma spat out, âyou donât have to be so worried, you know.  Itâs not like I wonât bite.â
  Saihara chuckled softly, âdonât you mean itâs not like you will bite?â
  Ouma hummed.  âOh yeah,â he smiled, âor maybe that was a lie. Who knows?â
  Saihara sighed and finally looked Ouma in the eyes.  He blushed slightly and went to pull his hat lower, over his eyes, forgetting he no longer wore it to school.  He looked downcast and put the chocolate from last night onto the table.  âWhy did you give me this?â he asked.
  âBecause I love you,â Ouma declared nonchalantly, taking another bite.
  âNo you donât,â Saihara countered, ânot like that.  This is Valentineâs Day chocolate, thatâs supposed to be for couples, or for people with romantic interest in each other.  I didnât,â he paused, hesitant and unsure of himself, âI donât need your obligation chocolate, Ouma.  Itâs not funny.â
  âWhat makes you say itâs obligation chocolate?  Didnât you read the note?  It says I love you.  I know how Valentineâs Day works, Saihara-chan.â
  âAnd I know how you work, Ouma.â  Ouma looked at Saihara in shock.  The other boy was trembling slightly, and he looked like he was about to cry.
  âSaihara-chââ Ouma started but was interrupted.
  âNo.  Listen, I know you like making fun of people, and you mean it all in good fun, but this is too far.  You canât just,â Saiharaâs breath hitched, âyou donât just make fun of peopleâs feelings like that.  You always ask us why we hate lies, and this is why: lies like this!â  He gestured angrily to the chocolate.  âYou donât have to feel the same way, but please donât give me something like this if you donât mean it.  It really hurts.â  Saihara got up and walked away with tears finally starting to break free, leaving a stunned Ouma in his wake.
  Option number six: Saihara returns his feelings but doesnât believe theyâre real.  Ouma is speechless.  The irony of the situation is so funny that if it were happening to anybody else he would double over laughing.  But this is happening to him.  Saihara liked him.  Thatâs what he meant by all of that, right?  Thereâs no other way to interpret that.  But if thatâs so, then why was he so determined to believe Ouma was lying? Shouldnât he have been happy? Ouma really canât read Saihara at all. But he needed to tell him the truth for once.
  The rest of the day passed too slowly for Ouma.  He was fidgeting all throughout the remainder of his classes, bouncing his leg and chewing at the eraser on his pencil.  All he wanted to do was go back to the dorms so he could confess to Saihara properly.  He had nothing to be afraid of.  Saihara liked him back.
  When the last bell finally rang, Ouma booked it out of class and made his way to his room as fast as he could without actually sprinting.  He threw his bag onto the floor and paced around his room for a good ten plus minutes trying to think of how to confront Saihara.  Clearly, there was something about Oumaâs behavior that made it impossible for Saihara to like him.  It could also very well be that Saiharaâs anxieties had some play in the matter.  Either way, Ouma would have to be as serious as he could with Saihara, which would be hard, but he was willing to do it for him. Ouma took in a deep breath and marched out of his room and headed straight towards Saiharaâs.  He rose up his fist determinedly to knock, but stopped right before his knuckled pounded against the wood.  He was doubting himself.  He was always so sure of everything, but he always wanted to make double- and triple-sure with Saihara.  There was a fragileness about him, where he was afraid he would break if Saihara pried too far into who Ouma really was.  But at the same time, only Saihara made Ouma feel so comfortable, so real and valid, that Ouma wanted to show him who he really was.
  âOuma?â a hushed voice spoke up behind him, and Ouma whipped around to be faced with a puffy-eyed Saihara. He brought down his fist and his face fell.  He made Saihara cry.  He really needed to work out this situation immediately.
��  âCan we talk?â he asked as seriously as he could.  His face was neutral, no hint of lying or joking, and he held strong eye contact with the taller boy.  Saihara nodded awkwardly and then opened his door, letting Ouma inside, and then closed it quietly after he followed.
  Ouma plopped down onto Saiharaâs bed, used to the other soon joining him, but instead Saihara sat at his desk chair, not making eye contact or even looking Oumaâs way.  It made Ouma so frustrated he wanted to scream.  But instead of screaming, he got up and quickly walked over to Saihara.  Saihara, confused by the unexpected action, looked up at Ouma, only to have his face grabbed by two small hands, and a pair of fruity-tasting lips mash against his own. Saihara jolted back, a deep red flush flooding his face as he stammered out incoherent syllables.
  Ouma smirked, âsee? Saihara-chan had no right to think I was lying.  I really doâhey wait why are you crying?â  Ouma leaned down to wipe at Saiharaâs tears but he was forcefully pushed away.
  âWhy are you doing this to me?â Saihara screeched.  âYou know I like you!â
  âGoddammit!â  This time Ouma did scream.  âListen, Saihara-chan.  I had no idea that you liked me, okay?  I honestly didnât think it was possible for anyone to be romantically into me because Iâm such an asshole.  And yes, I know Iâm a jerk I just,â he groaned loudly.  âLook, I donâtâŚbond with people well.  So I end up annoying them and being a jerk.  But even if I am a jerk, I wouldnât make fun of someoneâs crush. Probably.  Actually wait, no, thatâs a lie.  I would totally make fun of Iruma-chan.  But not,â he sighs, pausing.  âI wouldnât make fun of you.  Especially not if you actually had a crush on me.  Which, apparently, you do, which I still donât really understand.â
  âYouâŚhonestly had no idea that I liked you?â Saihara asked, genuinely confused.  Ouma shook his head.  âI thought you could easily understand what everyone was thinking and feeling, though.â
  âYeah, well, I could never really understand you.  Thatâs part of what made me so interested in you.  You intrigued me,â Ouma confessed.
  âOnly part?â Saihara inquired.
  âThe other part was because Iâm gay and youâre attractive.â  Both of them were blushing at this point, although Ouma still had a decent amount of control over his expression.
  âSo then, if you didnât know I liked you, why did you give me the chocolate?  And why did you, uh, why did you,â Saihara squeaked, âwhy did you kiss me?â
  Ouma just looked at him, dumbfounded.  He ran his hands through his hair, throwing all of his composure out the window, finally letting his massive blush take over his face.  âBecause I like you too, okay?â he declared, much louder than he had meant to.  He locked eyes with Saihara, who had let his mouth drop slightly.  It was kind of cute.
  That was another lie.
  It was extremely cute.
  And Ouma wanted to kiss him again.  But he waited for Saihara to reply.
  âYou,â Saihara gaped, âyou like me?â  And Ouma laughed.  He laughed at both of them for being so stupid.  But he nodded.  He nodded as a few tears spilt from his eyes.
  âYes.  I like you so fucking much.  Thatâs why I gave you chocolate.  And invited you to hang out with me on Valentineâs Day.  God, Saihara-chan, those are like, super big hints.  At the very least you couldâve figured it out when I kissed you,â Ouma pouted.
  Saihara laughed embarrassedly, looking away.  âWell, itâs not like you figured out that I liked you either.â
  âDuh,â Ouma huffed out.  âThatâs because you donât flirt with me.  Geez, Saihara-chan.â
  âI do flirt with you though,â Saihara looked back into Oumaâs purple eyes, gaining some confidence. âI accepted your invitation to spend time with me on Valentineâs Day, I chose to watch a romantic movie with you on Valentineâs Day, we shared a bed on Valentineâs Day, you slept over on Valentineâs Dayââ
  âCan you please stop saying Valentineâs Day like that?â Oumaâs blush grew redder.
  âWe cuddled on Valentineâs Day.â
  âI thought that was just, like, a trans thing?  There are some trans guys in DICE and we cuddle all the time,â Ouma supplied.
  Saihara sighed at looked away from Ouma.  He balled his hands into his pants and chewed on his lips slightly.  Ouma was about to ask him why he wasnât saying anything when a pair of rough, chapped lips crashed messily into his own.  This time Saihara was kissing him.  It was awkward and short, and Saihara hid his face behind his hands to hide his embarrassment, but it happened.  And Ouma couldnât stop the smile that spread upon his face.
  âSaihara-chan!â  He leapt onto the other boy as he drew out his name.  The chair leaned back from the force of Ouma literally throwing himself onto it, and it fell over from the combined weight of the two boys.  Ouma laid sprawled out on top of Saihara and sat up to straddle him, giggling.  âHey, hey! Saihara-chan!  I love you!â
  Saihara had covered his face by draping his left arm over it, doing almost null to cover his spreading blush. He still managed to mumble out an embarrassed âI love you too.â
  âAw, Saihara-chan,â Ouma whined, wiggling, âwhy are you so embarrassed huh?  Huh?â  He laughed and moved around some more and Saihara grabbed whatever was nearest to him and threw it at Ouma, which happened to be a crumpled up homework assignment that had fallen to the floor during the crash.  He then tried to kick Ouma (gently), but found that rather hard to do in their current position, which just made Ouma laugh more.
  Ouma looked down at the flustered boy with a fond and loving smile.  He leaned down and placed a quick peck on Saiharaâs lips before asking, âSo, do you wanna date me?â  Saihara nodded, peeking out from underneath his arm.  He smiled softly and it made Oumaâs heart melt.  Speaking of things that meltâŚ
  âHey, Saihara-chan?â His boyfriend looked up at him.  Boyfriend!
âYes Kokichi?â Â Any and all resolve Ouma had had dispersed at the use of his given name and he squeaked.
Quickly trying to recover himself, although still blushing harder than Saihara, Ouma asked, âdo you want to share that chocolate bar?â
#new danganronpa v3#new dangan ronpa v3#danganronpa v3#dangan ronpa v3#ndrv3#drv3#saiouma#oumasai#shuichi saihara#saihara shuichi#Ouma kokichi#kokichi ouma#oma kokichi#kokichi oma#sparkleskarkles#fanfic#fanfiction#Jiri writes#x0h-worm#long post
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MARCO,CECIL,DONUT,GOYA,ADELA,AILURA,CROW!!!!
god damn
Full Name: Marco AmoreGender and Sexuality: Male and HomosexualPronouns: He/himEthnicity/Species: Latino (specifically Mexico)/Colossal squidBirthplace and Birthdate: Calamari County, January 25thGuilty Pleasures: Sleeping in late, singing along to the song on the record player, dancing when nobodys watchingPhobias: n/aWhat They Would Be Famous For: His writing and reports?What They Would Get Arrested For: Tresspassing, he probably tried sneaking into somewhere to get information for a new story and got caught, thankfully he was only off with a warning.OC You Ship Them With: @rringabel (its u) OC CyrilOC Most Likely To Murder Them: @rringabelâs Robin........Favorite Movie/Book Genre: Science-fiction, ComedyLeast Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: Horror!!! Heâd be so jumpy after watching a scary movie he would refuse to go to the bathroom.Talents and/or Powers: Writing (Journalism), heâs quite good at farming as his parents back home own one, Instrument playing (Guitar)Why Someone Might Love Them: How overall passionate and caring he is, he likes to learn about others and takes interested in others work and helps them in anyway he can. Why Someone Might Hate Them: Their cold voice and stoic expressions might piss people off at firstHow They Change: When he moved to Inkopolis he became more independent and quiet due to the change of scenery and it only worsened when his Grandfather passed away. Upon meeting Cyril he begins to open up more and lossens up a bit and tries to taking pleasure in the little things in life.Why You Love Them: B O I H O W D Y Heâs only been recently made (and I havenât even posted him on this blog yet oops) but his overall design and personality is really relatable??Â
Full Name: Cecil SourieGender and Sexuality: Male/HomosexualPronouns: He/himEthnicity/Species: Filipino/InklingBirthplace and Birthdate: Inkopolis, February 14thGuilty Pleasures: Getting a quad kill/decimating the opposing team, Lying in bed with their significant other for hoursPhobias: Cynophobia (fear of dogs)What They Would Be Famous For: His sniping skills? Also his study in medical sciences, he wants to become a doctor like his dad.What They Would Get Arrested For: Canât imagine him getting arrested, maybe for causing a public disturbance of sorts?OC You Ship Them With: @rringabel (once again, u!!) OC AloisOC Most Likely To Murder Them: Canât think of anyone he isnât problamaticFavorite Movie/Book Genre: Science fiction, Horror, MysteryLeast Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: Romcoms, he just doesnât get how there funny.Talents and/or Powers: Sniping/Turf war, Strategic thinking/planning on the spotWhy Someone Might Love Them: Cecil is very empathetic and tries to be there in the time of need, his overall presence is calming and he is very gentle and caringWhy Someone Might Hate Them: How They Change: After meeting Alois he got a majour confidence boost, he begins to break out of his bubble and become more social and Why You Love Them: My first boy squiddo oh how far he has come!! Iâve grown attached to him over the year and a half time of his existence, heâs changed so much since I first created him and iâm proud of that!!
Full Name: Donut Diana CadburyGender and Sexuality: Female/Homoromantic AsexualPronouns: She/herEthnicity/Species: Latina/French, InklingBirthplace and Birthdate: Inkopolis, March 13thGuilty Pleasures: Reading awfully cheesy romance books, Sleeping in, physical contact with someonePhobias: Astraphobia (Fear of Lightning), Entomophobia (Fear of Bugs) and Trypanophobia (Fear of Needles)What They Would Be Famous For: Their baking, turf wars skillsWhat They Would Get Arrested For: I canât imagine her getting arrested?? Maybe accidentally taking a cookie and didnât pay 50 cents idkOC You Ship Them With: @rringabelâs (thats u) OC Lofty OC Most Likely To Murder Them: Onigiri (yikes)Favorite Movie/Book Genre: Fantasy, Comedy and, depending on how the relationship is portrayed, romance movies.Least Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: ANYTHING SAD AND SHEâLL BE IN TEARS!!!Talents and/or Powers: Baking, Volleyball, First aid, Sewing, Choreography/dancing and communication skills. Though she only pursues her passion for baking, she still enjoys dancing and playing volleyball.Why Someone Might Love Them: How genuine and kind she is, she puts others before herself and always tries her best to help someone in any way she can.Why Someone Might Hate Them: Her gentleness is often viewed that sheâs weak and somewhat of a pushover, also a bit of a goody two shoesHow They Change: They slowly become more Why You Love Them: Sheâs probably one of my most developed OCs and I love her to bits!! Her colour palette/personality/overall design just fits really well to me and I enjoy talking about her.
Full Name: Goya GaliaGender and Sexuality: Male/BisexualPronouns: He/himEthnicity/Species: Black/Octoling Birthplace and Birthdate: Octo valley, December 1stGuilty Pleasures: Gaming all night, eating a whole jumbo size bag of doritos in one sitting.Phobias: n/aWhat They Would Be Famous For: Gaming? Thatâs literally all he does he needs to go out more.What They Would Get Arrested For: Probably stealing a nintendo switch or somethingOC You Ship Them With: @rringabelâs (ONCE AGAIN, YOU) Romeo. Also with a warm comfy bed.OC Most Likely To Murder Them: Hmm maybe Camellia cause he failed his team or somethingFavorite Movie/Book Genre: Action, AdventureLeast Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: Romance, DramaTalents and/or Powers: Gaming??? Heâs also good at hiding stuff like all those dorito bags in a box under his bed so his older sibling wont find them.Why Someone Might Love Them: His overall goofy and chill nature makes it easy to talk to him and be around, he never tries to pry information out of someone and focuses more on making the other feel better.Why Someone Might Hate Them: How gullible and simple minded he seems and how heâs very much a child at heart, heâs very immature.How They Change: They start going out more and socialize and make new friends and takes notice that his emotions are valid and shouldnât be bottled up.Why You Love Them: Heâs such a lil sweetie and is starting to grow on me!! I love the whole Galia family gang (and the backstory behind them)
Full Name: AdelaGender and Sexuality: Female/BisexualPronouns: She/herEthnicity/Species: Latina/OctolingBirthplace and Birthdate: Octo valley, August 21stGuilty Pleasures: Singing along to rap music, dancing around the apartment when nobody else is home.Phobias: Autophobia (Fear of abandonment)What They Would Be Famous For: She has quite the talent in arts (traditionally and graffiti), maybe even her photography?What They Would Get Arrested For: Vandalizing propertyOC You Ship Them With: @rringabelââs OC PoppyOC Most Likely To Murder Them: Probably Cecil ngl she probably has a lot of blackmail on him from the days he stays over.Favorite Movie/Book Genre: Comedy, Action, Romcoms in some casesLeast Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: Sappy romance,Talents and/or Powers: Photography, Art, Memorizing lyrics and preforming, also playing the trumpet (she likes to stand outside of Aloisâs room and play a note, just to freak him out)Why Someone Might Love Them: Sheâs carefree and honest and likes to make others laugh, sheâll try anything to cheer someone up and tries to support her friends and family in anywayWhy Someone Might Hate Them: Their reckless behaviour causes others to get in trouble, as well as her tendency to talk during class, she can be a bit annoying.How They Change: Once moving to Inkopolis she became more tamed and chill, especially after meeting Poppy. They start getting more confidence and is much more social then back in Octo valley, she also has a knack for turf wars.Why You Love Them: I love her overall design and personality, she can be a bit of a goof ball sometimes and I love her childish personality we incorporated into her!!
Full Name: Ailura ZhuGender and Sexuality: Female/LesbianPronouns: She/herEthnicity/Species: Chinese/Moon JellyfishBirthplace and Birthdate: Unknown, December 25thGuilty Pleasures: Cutting through flesh with a knife with ease, long (like, hour long) bathsPhobias: Autophobia (fear of abandonment)What They Would Be Famous For: ??? Murder maybe I donât knowWhat They Would Get Arrested For: uh.......thereâd be too many to list but mainly murderOC You Ship Them With: @rringabelââs OC Cherry, also Ailura x Jail and Ailura x ChurchOC Most Likely To Murder Them: CrowFavorite Movie/Book Genre: Mystery, Horror, Adventure, ComedyLeast Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: RomanceTalents and/or Powers: Knife sharpening, Knife throwing, negotiating.....is blackmailing a talent?Why Someone Might Love Them: Man I got no clueWhy Someone Might Hate Them: Her crude and sadistic behaviour makes a lot of people uneasy, also how manipulative and cunning she is.How They Change: They dont???Why You Love Them: Man i donât even know why
Full Name: Crow OmeriaGender and Sexuality: Male/Pansexual AromanticPronouns: He/himEthnicity/Species: Thai/Great White sharkBirthplace and Birthdate: Unknown, July 29thGuilty Pleasures: Completing a rubix cube in under 30 seconds, Downing a whole jug of milkPhobias: n/aWhat They Would Be Famous For: Canât imagine heâd be famous, maybe setting the record on fastest rubix cube finished?What They Would Get Arrested For: Once again, murder.OC You Ship Them With: @rringabelââs Robin....also Crow x JailOC Most Likely To Murder Them: AiluraFavorite Movie/Book Genre: Action, Adventure, HorrorLeast Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: RomanceTalents and/or Powers: Rubix cube, Parkcour, Seducing others (?)Why Someone Might Love Them: I got no clueWhy Someone Might Hate Them: Acts very oblivious and innocent which pisses people off (especially when they know heâs of wrong doing). Also his bad habit of asking too many questions at once, he can be a nuisance.How They Change: They donâtWhy You Love Them: My first shark OC!!! Thats literally it
Full Name: Zixen CaruseeGender and Sexuality: Male/BisexualPronouns: He/himEthnicity/Species: Black/Flying squidBirthplace and Birthdate: Inkopolis, November 19thGuilty Pleasures: Smoking a whole pack of cigarettes, doing other peopleâs hair or playing with other peopleâs hairPhobias: n/aWhat They Would Be Famous For: Being a assholeWhat They Would Get Arrested For: Shop lifting.....He was arrested once when he was younger and his family was struggling, he was caught quickly thought.OC You Ship Them With: @rringabelâs King and also Zixen x Financial stabilityOC Most Likely To Murder Them: His ex boyfriendFavorite Movie/Book Genre: Comedy, Action/Thrillers, HorrorLeast Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: Muscials, he just ainât a big fanTalents and/or Powers: Smoking a pack of cigarettes a day, Mechanical work and weapon fixingWhy Someone Might Love Them: Despite his intimidating looks he is actually a huge softie with a big heart and cares for people deeply.Why Someone Might Hate Them: When you first meet him he acts very rude and is aggressive, he takes time opening up to people which makes impatient people hate himHow They Change: After meeting King he feels a bit at ease, after making a new friend he could feel like he could be himself and not keep up the âcold and independentâ act and begins showing his feelings more.Why You Love Them: At first he was just a OCs older sibling, but after developing him a bit more heâs grown on meÂ
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Socks & Starting Anew
req:Â could you please write a fic about penny and allen in 1940s
summary: penny, searching for meaning, purpose, or hell, maybe just a little adventure, leaves boston to return to her ancestral home in san francisco, where, with the proper guidance, sheâll find a life all of her own.
a/n:Â oops itâs long than expected sooo uhh (pt 1/3)
Winter 1945
Allen chose to stay. After the war ended, he saw many fellow shipbuilders pack up and head out, back to their small hometowns, to rejoin with a wife they had left, a little baby now a bustling toddler, or even just a high school sweetheart still flaunting a promise ring. Allen could have gone back home - he was sure people remembered him - but no one was waiting for him. So he chose to stay. There was something about the city of San Francisco that called to him, inexplicably; the great energy of discovery, youth, passion, that seemed to hang in the air, thick as the fog. He couldnât go back home now - the idea of travelling north, buying some land, and settling down with some chickens and a temperate wife had never felt more foreign to him. No, he would stay in the city. Something was waiting for him here.
Spring 1946
It was time for a change. Penny had no gift for premonition but she knew something grand waited in her future, she just had to find it. It was actually her father who suggested she return to the old family home and take up with Cousin Pearl. Penny had always wanted to visit the house - she has studied it rigorously as a child, begging her mother to take her so she could see the Nexus herself. Her mother refused, of course. She hadnât set foot in the house since some unspeakable disaster in the 20âs (unspeakable as it might have been, Penny still knew what had happened that February so many years ago; a curious mind and an unbreakable will had led Penny to uncover many things she shouldnât have). So, she packed her bags and sent a telegram to one miss P. Bowen at 1329 Prescott Street, and was on a train the next morning.
Three days later Penny landed at the train platform in San Francisco, almost immediately tripping over a cat. She apologized to the creature and continued on, beginning the trek to the manor (Cousin Pearl refused to drive under any circumstances, but Penny didnât mind the fresh air). She hadnât made it three steps before the cat places itself in her path yet again, wrapping its way around her legs. She attempted to nudge it to the side to no avail.
The cat, black with white markings on the chest and legs, peered up at her with big eyes, meowing softly.
âOh, no.â
Meow.
âNo!â
Penny bent down, putting herself at level with the cat, matching its wide eyed gaze with a much sterner look of her own. âLook at me.â She pointed her finger at the cat. âI am not in the market for a familiar. I do not want guidance, I do not need guidance, and I am not willing to take up the responsibilities of pet ownership. Understand?â
The cat responded by softly licking Pennyâs finger.
Penny scowled. âYouâre disgusting.â
She tried to shove the cat away with her hand, but it just pushed its head against her, working its way into a pet.
âIncorrigible,â Penny muttered, standing up sharply and walking away from the train station.
The cat called out to her, but she didnât turn back. Then, a man called out to her.
âHey! Is this your cat?â
Penny turned back to see a man with cropped auburn hair holding the familiar. It snuggled up to him.
âNo,â she responded, âitâs yours!â
Cousin Pearl wasnât happy Penny was late - it wasnât like she had planned anything - she just anticipated punctuality. To be fair, so did Penny, until she encountered the rolling hills of San Francisco. She had seen the post cards and the photos, sure, but nothing could have prepared her for the hike had just accomplished with two suitcases and kitten heels. Sweaty, tired, and aching, all she really wanted to do was lay down, but Pearl had other plans.
Penny wasnât going to be living in the manor for free, that was for sure. Pearl wasnât charging her rent, she wouldnât do that to family, but from the second Penny had stepped on that train in Boston she had secured herself a job as Pearlâs assistant.
âIt isnât easy running the best portrait studio in the Bay, as Iâm sure you can assume, and I do not get my reputation from slacking off.â Pearl began moving from room to room, adjusting items that she viewed to be askew. âPeople come here because they know they will get beautiful, quality photos in a clean and efficient manner.â Pearl kept talking to her as she walked; Penny quickly moved to follow her, abandoning her bags in the foyer. âThis means keeping the house clean, and not leaving your personal belongings everywhere.â
She paused at this line, looking Penny up and down.
Pennyâs eyes widened as she remembered her luggage sitting near the front door. âSorry. Um, if you donât mind, where is my room? Just so I know where to keep everything.â
Pearl turned on a heel, heading towards the stairs. âOf course,â she said, not turning back, âright this way.â
Penny quickly darted into the foyer to grab her bags, rolling the two large suitcases to the base of the stairs. She paused, sizing them up. She had just conquered the many hills of San Francisco, if she took another step upwards her legs might give out.
Pearl had already reached the upstairs floor; she could hear the faint click of a door opening and Pearl saying âThis room will be yours,â as if Penny was there to see which one she was referring too.
Penny stared down her challenger, stepping onto the first step and hauling up one suitcase alongside her. She frowned at the other one, moving to lift it, but then rolling her eyes instead.
She swung her arms forward, and the suitcases moved themselves up the first landing, and with a turn of the wrist, rotated, and then a final movement, and they carried themselves to the top of the stairs. Penny smiled, darting up to join them.
Pearl was already watching as Penny reunited with her possessions on the second floor. âWell,â she said, â I guess that brings us to the second over of business. Before each of my appointments we go extra lengths to secure the house against demonic attacks, a method which you will soon be in charge of, so itâs important you pay attention.â Pearl began traversing the length of this hallway, headed towards yet another flight of stairs, these presumably leading up to the attic.Â
Penny looked into the room whose door was left ajar - her room, she assumed. It was quaint, with pastel wallpaper and framed photos of old family members. On the bed were extra linens and another comforter, all folded neatly and left for her. Penny flicked her wrist, and her suitcases rolled into the room, and, with a tiny wiggle of the fingers, managed to close the door behind them. Penny smiled, satisfied, then picked up the pace yet again to rejoin Pearl.
Pearl stood in front of a book, large, skinny, with a green leather binding and a large triquetra in the center. âThis is our book of shadows. The protection spell used before each booking is here,â Pearl indicates a page very plainly labelled âProtection Spellâ, then flips to another page, this one labelled âLunar Cycle Protection Spellâ, âand this is the protection spell I cast every full moon. Understood?â
âIs that it?â Penny tried not to sound underwhelmed, but it didnât quite work.
Pearl didnât judge her, surprisingly, but instead nodded solemnly. âWarren magic hasnât been quite the same since Polly. She took her toll on the book.â
Penny nodded, unsure if she should try to comfort Pearl. She didnât have to decide; Pearl quickly snapped out of her melancholy.
âBut Iâd rather see it lost to the world than in the hands of some demonic bastard.â She shut the book, turning to Penny. âYou must be tired after all your travelling. Why donât you rest? Weâre starting bright and early tomorrow.â
Penny smiled, relieved, and pulled Pearl into a hug. âIâll be ready.â
#charmed#penny halliwell#allen halliwell#i didn't proofread this lmao sorry 4 any errors!#ogwork#wbph
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Draw My #ChronicLife
February 6, 2000. This is where my story begins. My mom and dad met a few years before, had gotten married and then had me. I was born on February 6th obviously in the poorly drawn state of Ohio. In 2002 my family had another addition. I was no longer an only child. This baby was my little sister her name is Mandy. In 2004 we had yet another addition. The first and only boy so far my little brother, Micah. And then again in 2006 my little sister Elly made the debut into the family.Â
Sometime in between 2009 and 2010 I'm not quite sure on the time frame of that, I started having chronic back pain "OW!" The only reason that I remember it was even within this time frame is because of a memory I have with one of my friends. I was over at her grandparents house and we were lying on the floor for some reason and I commented that it felt nice to lay on the floor because it stretched my back out and I said "My back hurts all the time now I don't know why..."Â
In 2010 I had my first move. We had been living in the same house ever since I was baby. But when I was 10 and we had to move to new one. Up until now I had been schooled at home but now I went to a real school. I actually got held back a year because my mom actually wasn't that great of a teacher and so I didn't retain a lot of information so I ended up having to redo a year but I went to a community school right there in town.Â
So when I went to this new school I was well the new kid obviously. It was fourth grade and I was kind of a loner. I mean not by choice I was just kind of over here and they were all kind of over there. I mean I guess I don't blame them like I was the new kid they didn't know me but it just kind of sucks, you know? So there was this one girl named Destiny and we became pretty fast friends. So we would hang out most all of fourth grade and then partway through 5th grade and then partway through 5th grade she just kind of decided that didn't really mesh and she kind of left.Â
At this point I had already been struggling with a little bit of depression and my one friend that I had abandoning me was just a little bit too much for me to handle honestly. What I am trying to draw here is like a Cheshire Cat face but I can't draw so I'm going to explain that that is what that is supposed to be. Having my friend leave me just the depression consumed me I didn't have anything to keep me occupied. My only memories from fifth grade are being in the dark, trying to get help, trying to pull out. I sat... you know those lunch tables where there's like half of it it's like really long but there's like two parts to it that are very clearly established? Yeah I started eat lunch out one of those all by myself. I felt very isolated.Â
In sixth grade things got a little bit better. Depression never really goes fully away but you can have enough fun to kind of forget it's there the blackness kind of fades a little bit. It never really goes away but... there you go. So the blackness can fade a little bit so you distract yourself things get a little bit better. That was sixth grade for me. I found this group of people this kind of group of other outcasts kind of like me and we made our own little group. I actually named it. We called ourselves M&M; or the modern Musketeers with our motto "all for one and one for all" There were two boys and three girls. Just the five of us. The two boys were Justin and Trey and then there was me Delaney and Madi.Â
Madison and Trey both left the school after sixth grade so it was just me Justin and Delaney which I actually have some pretty good memories from that time. We were all kind of awkward and we never went out for recess so we would always help the janitor clean up the cafeteria while everyone else was at recess. Which doesn't sound that great but it was really fun 'cause it was just the three of us in this wide open cafeteria and I remember this one time when we smashed open a barbecue packet. We made a lot of messes because meaning we were just gonna clean them up anyway. Never started a food fight though. Okay moving on.Â
So my mom had gotten pregnant yet again and this time there were two of them I don't know why I I tried to add the babies holding up peace signs but I failed terribly at this but I thought it was funny that the babies would be giving peace signs and also that I failed so terribly at having the babies give peace signs so I just kept it. This happened in 2012 by the way...because I forgot to do that earlier. Okay so my mother had finally given birth. I had two little baby sisters named Mia and Libby. This is all the children and then my parents have as of yet so yes still just the one boy. That same year or maybe it was the year before that. I have a terrible memory okay? This is very hard.Â
Ever since, actually ever since I was born we had been going to this one church it was it was kind of weird It had a lot of rules. Girls could only wear skirts. I wore pajama pants around the house sometimes in the winter and stuff but I08:49never wore a pair of jeans until I was 12. We were also supposed to have very long hair and cutting it even just trimming the dead ends off was just...no. And you couldn't pierce your ears either. That's what that's supposed to be. That's supposed to be an earring but it kind of just looks like more hair but no. No ear piercings or tattoos. It was the only place I could put a tattoo leave me alone.Â
My mom had decided that this church wasn't really for her anymore and kind of peaced out on that. I don't know why I keep using peace in this section but she says "peace I'm out! "and she gone. This actually led to me questioning religion a lot. It sent me into a tizzy that lasted for years and I'm still no quite decided but it was really bad at the beginning. I was just so confused I mean what was right? Christianity? There's Jewishism? I don't even know what you call it. I don't know. I know what you call it I can't remember okay leave me alone. science? There Scientology? Aliens? what do I believe? What should I believe?Â
In 2015 I had to move from my second house of my life an hour away from my hometown. Our family was getting pretty big at this point and my dad already worked in that town so we just decided it would be better to move there instead. So, 2015 it was finally time for high school. Yes this is an actual model of what my high school looks like it's really weird.11:292016, 10th grade. At this point in tenth grade my health started to decline. I was having more trouble with my back, I was having more trouble with my hips I was having trouble with my knees. My ankles started to be all weird my my toes my declining health also meant that my depression took a hit for the worst. I started to descend into the darkness, which was not fun.Â
I decided to seek out therapy and they referred me to a psychologist (or I forget. Is it psychologist? I think it's psychologist.) where they gave me meds. The first med that I was on didn't really help me much but then the second med that I got on it helped me a whole lot I am so much less depressed than I was. So I know that my mental health was in a pretty good state I decided I needed to take a real look at my physical health. I went to my PCP and she decided we were gonna do "ALL THE TESTING EVER!!!" Despite all the testing I still have no idea what's wrong.Â
The one piece of advice my doctor did give me was to exercise and I figured swimming is pretty easy on the joints. So I did that. I was not a very good swimmer in slightest but I did it. Halfway through the season I kind of realized that it was a terrible mistake because the joints in my arms had started hurting. I never had problems with the joints in my arms before and then suddenly I did. It was not fun. Now I'm going to go to a video by me from before so.Â
About halfway through the season I didn't really go back anymore because my wrists and my hands had started hurting my joints never used to click before and now they do. My wrists started hurting they didn't used to click either, my elbows started hurting they don't really click but they hurt now, my shoulders click if I do this and they hurt by themselves now too. I used to have a lot of shoulder like muscle pain but now I'll get joint pain and sometimes it'll even feel like my shoulders trying to fall out of its socket I never be used to be able to bend my fingers back this far, I never used to be able to do (oops the camera can't see) I never used to able to touch my thumb to my forearm like this, I never be used to be able to do any of that. Oh they also didn't used to be able to do this this or any of this you can see. I think they used to click a little bit but now they click like a lot.Â
I can touch my toes now which I can only I only used to be able to get to about here (my knees) and now I can touch my toes all the way down. See I can lift that up. My sister measured with (you're foot is in the shot) My sister measured it for me and it goes up like seven centimeters off the ground. My elbow doesn't really hyper extend but it still hurts all the time. My shoulders are the same way and yeah it's just a big ol mess. I also have started experiencing POTS symptoms and I didn't really start experiencing that until I started exercising. So honestly I'm a little scared to exercise at all anymore because I'm scared of it getting worse. Which I think is understandable.
So now I'll explain a little about POTS symptoms basically whenever I would stand up my heart would freak out. It's due to it it's a type of dysautonomia which is a dysfunction the autonomic nervous system which regulates things like blood pressure, heart rate, digestion all that good stuff. So basically my first symptom was my heart just would freak out.Â
Because I was experiencing this, I went to my doctor. She referred me to a cardiologist and he ordered me a tilt table test. I actually fainted during the tilt table test. So I went back to the doctor who was under the assumption that I was just fat and had not been exercising and he was like "I don't know I'll just give you some meds and no diagnosis"Â
So now we're almost to the present. 11th grade. By 11th grade given the problems in my... everything now, I had started walking with a cane over the summer. I only use it sometimes when I need it during school but even on days when I have to use it I still I get home and I just... I crash and it really sucks to be honest. My path ahead is still just one giant question mark. I have hope that I will get into this online academy thing that my school does where I can still be a student but I go and do it. It sounds like a wonderful solution and I'm probably gonna find out the day after tomorrow whether or not I got it. I don't think I'm gonna add it here just let it be unfinished.Â
So that's my life so far. I may do a part two in a year or two. Who knows? But if you want to see it as it happens ,subscribe! The vlogs have been pretty inconsistent but I'm hoping to get better if I get in to the online school. Like, share subscribe and follow my media. Links in the description.
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2016 in review
Hey followers, itâs that time of year again! Aka, the year is about over and I write a diary-entry-like text post about how the past 36[6, in this case] days have been for me. Which none of you will probably read. Oh well. Here goes:
Part I: January - Late May I returned to Fordham in the middle of January for my final semester at Fordham. Things were...hard for me to verbalize. A month before, December 2015, I overcame a brief scuffle I had with a few of my friends due to how belligerently drunk I got the night after my first LSAT. Things evened out, but I left LA after the new year with a very troubled heart. I kept asking myself, what would I do if I didnât get accepted to any of the law schools that I applied to? I had no back-up plan. Ok, thatâs a lie; I did: work for a year or so, then go back to school to get my MBA. But I made no effort to apply to any jobs in either city that I called âhome.â And thatâs another thing: the word âhomeâ began to have many different connotations. So many that I began to hate the English language (for more than the obvious reasons) for having no other word(s) to express exactly how I was feeling. Every party I went to, every living room I pregamed in, every nap I took on Fordhamâs quad (âEddieâsâ for all my Fordham followers)--just made me want to cling to New York City even more. College seniors everywhere dread âthe âGâ word,â but there is no way to explain the disdain âgraduationâ inflicts on oneâs mind and body when the second semester finally rolls around. If anything, the second semester--and every inching second towards the occurrence of the âg wordâ--makes you really pause the commotion of your life and smell the roses that are the life you made for yourself the past four years.
I met a boy in January on the MetroNorth. He was sweet--almost too sweet. I became too desperate for his attention that I scared him away. Pretty Typical. In February, I retook the LSAT. Then, on the 17th, I turned 22. Once again, I had a birthday party, but I was sad to see that not as many people came as did for my 21st. I also went on my first-ever Tinder date. In March, I came home to Los Angeles for Spring Break. I went to San Diego with a few friends from high school and let myself feel healed by the ocean. In April, I got my first law school acceptance. My fate was sealed. I placed my enrollment deposit and began to come to terms with the certainty that I was, in fact, going to leave New York City for good and return to Los Angeles. I was so happy. And I was so sad. My closest friends were all so ecstatic for my future (and I could tell because that Facebook status was my most-liked EVER at an astounding 180+), yet we all knew what it meant: I was leaving. I was going to be gone.
May was both wonderful and terrible for that reason. My job and my internship both ended, and I focused mainly on my remaining days in New York City. My roommate and I decided to have a âPurple Partyâ to celebrate that we were both going to graduate schools that just so happened to have the same official color: purple. Mutual friends of ours who lived in a house with a huge backyard let us throw it. Over 200 of our friends came. And at one moment, I actually almost cried. I almost cried because all of these people--who I had either been friends with all four years, had met them along the way, or had just met them that semester--were there for me. Followers, itâs no secret that I suffer from depression and anxiety. I have always had self-esteem issues, as well as abandonment issues and fears that I am never enough. But that night, in that moment, I felt loved. Senior Week commenced later that May. I canât remember most of the events, but I remember them being fun for many reasons. One night I lay on Eddieâs with my other roommate and we looked at the stars and were holding each other in tears because of how thankful we were that we met each other. Another night, one of my best friends and I finally got around to talking about the reality that was me leaving soon. My brother flew in early (and stayed with his best friend from high school who just happens to go to my Alma Mater) and went to Senior Ball. Senior Ball was amazingly fun...until the after party. Ugh. So much unnecessary drama. But anyway, graduation finally happened. Graduation was surreal. The weather was cloudy, it was somewhat humid, my sister didnât make it because she missed her flight because she chose her (now ex-)boyfriendâs prom over me, our speaker basically told us that the world is a very terrible place, and seeing AJ get his diploma made me happy that I finally got to say goodbye to him. But honestly, I still canât believe that it happened. And I donât think I even know where my diploma is. Oops. Anyway, Iâm bummed that I didnât get to take as many pictures with as many people as I wanted. And Iâm still a little bummed that I spent too much time with my family doing all these touristy things. But after my mom and my sisters left, I had two days left in New York City. My last day was really, really hard. May 24th. I wonât forget it. I woke up that morning seeing my bags packed and my bed bare. My walls, which I am notoriously known by my friends for as being the most filled, were blank. I went to lunch with my best friends and tried not to cry the entire time. Afterward, we went to my apartment. In the two hours before my scheduled Uber was to pick me up, my friends helped me take down all the photos that I had taped on the walls. We laughed as we reminisced all the crazy moments that I had captured of our countless shenanigans. Some of my friends asked if they could keep certain photos because they realized in that moment how sentimental it was to them. And then finally, the uber came. I hugged each and every person of my squad. And then when I hugged my main girls--Darby, Alex, and Emma--I lost it. I hugged Darby the longest. But honestly, itâs probably more correct to say that she held me. I finally got the strength to get in the car...and as I drove off, not only did my friends wave, a few of them actually ran after the car. My heart broke into a million pieces. But then it swelled in joy. Never had I ever felt love like this. This love is accepting, this love is patient, this love knows who I am and wants to grow with me. Even with so much distance that I had now created between us. And my brother and I proceeded to get super drunk on the plane back to Los Angeles afterward.
Part II: Late May - Late August The best way to sum up my summer in 2016 is this: I was super fucking depressed. I was mourning my old life. At this point a year prior, I was starting my job in the Admissions Office, I had just moved in to my off-campus apartment, and I was spending every afternoon and night with my best friends either in their living rooms, their backyards, or via drunken shenanigans in Manhattan and Brooklyn. But this year? I was locked in my room watching Netflix and Hulu. Sure, I was very happy to be with my family, and I was happy that I got to spend a lot more time with my friends from high school that decided to move back to LA like I did. But something was missing. I felt empty. I felt lonely. And I felt my heart break even more when I saw via Facebook and Snapchat that my friends from Fordham seemed to have moved on with their lives and had accepted that I was no longer a part of it. I had a depressive breakdown in early July, a little after the fourth. I ripped the pictures of my college friends off my walls and threw many framed pictures I had on the ground, where they shattered. I screamed, cried, and wrote FAT and WORTHLESS all over my body in sharpie. Then, about two weeks later, I went to the hospital because I was self-harming. I had not been suicidal to this degree since AJ broke up with me about a year and a half beforehand.
Then, in late July, two good things happened to me: (1) I started watching Haikyuu!! and (2) I began to take my Intro to Legal Writing class at my current law school. What I liked about my into to legal writing course is that, not only was it super preparatory for my starting career as a law student, I also met many people who I am still friends with--including Aileen, who has become my best friend at law school. Similarly, what I liked about (and still love about) Haikyuu!! is--put simply--it helped me fill a hole that I was feeling. Through the Karasuno Volleyball Club team, I was able to find a fictional psuedo-family while I was looking for ways to create a new one for myself in law school. I also briefly dated a guy I met on Bumble. That was okay, but ended pretty early on. It was nice to know that even LA boys wanted me. And on that note--I also finally came to terms with my sexuality and came out to my family. The summer ended a little early for me because of orientation, but Iâm happy that it did. After having a few crying fits wondering whether law school was what I was actually meant to be doing with my life, I was finally ready to attack head-on.
Part III: Late August - December The only thing I really got from orientation was new friends. And honestly, close to 85% of the people I met that first week are still my friends now that the semester is over. These people (Aileen, Josh, Maddy, Michael, Alex, and Joanna) are the main persons who kept me sane. Followers, law school is like nothing I have ever--or will ever--experience. The reading is literally only case opinions, class time is spent trying to affirm what you taught yourself, and your grade in the class is (almost always) determined by the final and maybe a midterm. You have you teach yourself most of it. Your professor is only there to help clear up any questions you have on the rules, their elements, and/or their factors. The most difficult part is teaching yourself the application the rules, because some rules are very broad, and others are super narrow. But once you get the gist of determining which rule falls where, everything else begins to fall into place. Labor Day Weekend was spent in Lake Arrowhead with these new friends. Followers, I havenât seen that many stars in years. I made a few wishes on three (!!!) of the four shooting stars I saw, and I actually had a panic attack. But!! these new friends were actually super supportive and patient. I guess those are just a few perks of having friends who are older than you.
I actually flew to New York City for Fordhamâs homecoming at the end of September! And let me tell you, there were waterworks. The first day, I went to breakfast with my old roommate and another close friend in Brooklyn, and my old roommate and I just about cried when we were reunited after she ran down the stairs to greet me from the uber. My old roommate and I went into Manhattan and ran errands before meeting with my other old roommate, Darby, and our other friend Ben for dinner. And once again, Darby held me while I cried. I was just so happy. There are so many posts on my tumblr in which I attempt to describe how warm, welcome, and loved that these people make me feel. We had a wonderful midtown dinner at an Italian restaurant with live music before heading down to the Village to go out. I got to meet some of Alexâs new friends at her grad school (which was a nice touch because she had taken me on a tour of her portion of the NYU campus earlier that day). We had a pretty lovely rest of a rainy night before going back to our borroughs to sleep. The next morning, Katie arrived, I got to eat NYC-style bagels that I missed oh-so-much, and we went to Homecoming. Homecoming was great because I got to see so many friends that I didnât even realized I missed. We got drunk under the tent, went to a backyard party, and got pizza at the local spot afterward. And then, at night, a smaller group of us went to the old house of mutual friends that had younger mutual friends living there now. Thatâs when it hit me: things have changed. No part of my old life is how it used to be. Sure, these friendships will be maintained, and New York City will always be a part of me/have a piece of me--but the illusion that life as it was had not budged since graduation was immediately busted. I left the next day. With tears. But I know Iâll be back.
Anyway, the rest of the semester went by pretty smoothly. I briefly dated a guy I met on Bumble, but it turns out he just wanted me for sex. Whatever--he and his incredibly small penis can go fuck themselves. And then, there was another guy who I actually and genuinely thought liked me at my law school. But like Bumble fuckboy, he only wanted me for sex. He started to spread a rumor that I had assaulted him, which I quickly was able to shut down due to how completely false his accusations were. The good news: I was given a newborn hatchling tortoise!! Little Takala fully hatched on October 4. The little ooo came home to me on October 18, and my life has been exponentially better ever since. I have never understood the hype surrounding pets until I started to care for Lil T. I love that tiny animal more than I love myself. Academically, I hit a bit of a rough patch. I received a very low score, despite a gracious curve, on my first ever midterm exam. This trend continued with other midterms I took. But when December 1 hit, I decided to buckle down and redeem myself. There was no way in hell that I am not going to be at the top. The semester ended on December 21. My friends and I all went out and had a pretty crazy afternoon and night. I came to many realizations about my law school friends, such as who lies about their grades, who cheats, who steals outlines, and even things like who is manipulative and who is most likely going to be at the top or bottom of the class.
If 2016 taught me anything, itâs this: change is constant, and change is difficult. I left many friends and memories--a life--back in New York City; and I created a new life for myself in Los Angeles--aka the city that I was born in and grew up in. 2016 also taught me how to be resilient, how to stay true to myself, and how to both open up about these emotions and to also be a better listener. 2016 was better than 2015 in that I was able to do so many cool things with my friends (both old and new), but it was also worse than 2015 in that all these changes all at once made me very depressed in such a way that was completely different from the depression I felt in 2015.
Hopes for 2017 But anyway, I have a pretty good feeling for 2017. Because my birthday is on the 17th day of February, I have always considered 17 to be âluckyâ for me. So, I hope that this year will be good to me. I hope that I can reach my goal weight, to live a healthier lifestyle, to be more receptive to change, to keep getting what I deserve (as in, have the fruits of my labors be from my effort rather than luck)--and, ultimately, to let my anxiety calm the fuck down and actually let life and the universe allow things to fall into place for me without me trying to move too fast or without me trying to unfairly manipulate things into my favor. So, I hope that 2017 will be better than 2016. No--I know 2017 will be better than 2016. Watch out, universe. Iâm gonna slay.
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