#like. my dad didn’t know I was proud of finishing the first drawing I’ve truly liked in 3 weeks

[gaytedlasso]

Love when family decides to say something that gets under your skin right as you’re feeling really proud of yourself for something

[chibiwritesstuff]

Hey! I'm the one that asked for the Lilia and Malleus ask. I love what you wrote so much man! (My poor heart died 😂) I am a big sucker for happy endings tho. So when you get the time can I ask for a happy ending ?

Ha, my laptop thought they won against me but I came out victorious (even though I took literal months to publish this.) In my defense, all the versions I’ve written for this didn't suit my tastes (not that this is any good either.) Hope this makes justice for such a long wait. Here’s the sequel/good ending for the angst fic.

Now, let’s enter this twisted wonderland~

Walking past the now dying garden that used to flourish in Ramshackle dorm, he sighed as he reminisces about the times you two stroll and spends time together. It's been years since you’ve left NRC, He and Lilia are about to graduate tomorrow, Silver will be a fourth-year student and the new vice-dorm leader while Sebek will be in his third year and the dorm leader much to the said fae’s surprise. He chuckled at the memory of how honored and tearful the young fae is upon being selected as its prefect.

“I have so much to tell you, (y/n).” He whispered at the wind.

“Hey, Tsunotarou!” The familiar voice of the tanuki cat being called that long-forgotten name.

“Hey, Tsunotarou! Are we going on a walk again tonight?” You smiled at him, your hand extended as an invitation.

“Grimm, wasn’t it?” He crouched down to pet the said creature.

“Hey! I’m not a pet!” The flames on his ears flared, responding to his emotions. “What are you doing here, anyway? The roses are all dead.”

A wave of sadness flashed in his eyes as another memory resurfaced. Returning his gaze towards the dead flowerbed, he let the memory linger.

“Thanks for the seeds, Tsunotarou!” You excitedly began digging and planting said seeds. “To commemorate our friendship, these roses will be our friendship roses!”

“Yes, they are…” His hand ceased from moving before sitting down the ground. “It’s all gone…”

“By the way, I never managed to get the courage to ask you but why did (y/n) went back home crying that time?”

“I was but a foolish man…” The young heir steered his gaze towards the night sky before closing his eyes. “Had I just enjoyed the present than worry about the future, perhaps they would still be here and smile brightly like they always had.”

“I’m sure if you say sorry, they’ll forgive you.” Grimm responded nonchalantly. “They said saying sorry is the first step to forgiveness… or something like that.”

He chuckled and stood up heading towards his dorm. “If things were only that easy…”

That night, he slept and dreamt about you two walking in the bed of roses you’ve grown at Ramshackle. Loving every single moment that you two get to spend subconsciously knowing that once he wakes up, he’ll return to the harsh reality of you not being by his side.

“Tsunotaro, I think I have fallen for you.” You quietly said warmth spreading across your cheeks. “Will you let me stay by your side till the last breath I take?”

This is all but a dream… so I can keep dreaming, right?

“Yes, only if you’ll let me do the same.”

“Really?!” Joy showed throughout your being which made him smile back. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow! Happy graduation!”

He woke up gasping for air. That dream sounded too good to be true and yet… he can’t help but be hopeful. Putting on a happy face, he got dressed on what Lilia laid out for him and this time, everybody remembered to tell him the time of the celebration. He can’t help but laugh just thinking what your reaction would have been about the changes of the students' behavior towards him after he tried to socialize better. Heading towards the stage getting his diploma as odd as it is, he acted formally as he mingled with the rest of the dorm leaders until a voice echoed throughout the area.

“Tsunotarou!” Receiving a hug from the back as the voice caught him off guard, he turned still not believing what he’s seeing. “Congrats on graduating!”

“(y/n)?” His voice faltered, overwhelmed with so many emotions. “How? Why? I –”

“Uh-oh… Lilia! Your king here is having an information overload!” You called which made the said fae laugh out loud.

“How are you here?” He finally managed to ask. “The mirror –”

“Ah, that would be my doing…” Idia whispered but managed to catch everyone’s attention. “It was an accident! I was messing around to make a teleporter so I can just teleport to the store than having to leave the dorm but it ended up making people travel through dreams then I managed to talk to (y/n). Then we both decided we might as well try to make travel here and back to their world possible.”

“Looks like you did meet me once upon a dream, yeah?” You grinned at the joke about his ancestor’s song.

He merely hugged you, savoring each second of being around your arms. “I don’t have anything ready but if you’ll give me a second chance…”

He lets go and kneeled on one knee before looking up to you once more. “Will you be my spouse till the day you draw your last breath?”

Time is but a blink of an eye for fae and before he knew it, the Star Sending is happening once again. He was happy when Silver and Sebek were chosen to be Star Gazers albeit the mentioned students aren’t. He strummed his electric guitar with no particular music in mind as he lets his mind wander until his gaze dropped on a familiar mug.

“Happy Birthday, Lilia!” You grinned as you handed him a mug that said “No. 1 Gamer Dad” on it. “Hope you like it!”

His lips curled into a faint smile as he remembered that day. It's been a year since you left and yet it felt like it was just yesterday. Letting go of the instrument, he walked towards the mug and lifted it intending to fill it with tomato juice.

“How have you been, little one?” He spoke towards the image of you in his head. “I hope life is treating you better in your world.”

Without me in it… he sighed as sadness filled his chest. If I could change the past, or at least be given another chance… will you give your love to me once more?

“Old m –” Silver cleared his throat before entering. “I mean, Lilia. I’m here to take your wish.”

He took a deep breath before putting a huge smile to face his son. “Ah, yes of course! You know my wish. I wish for both –”

“Stop.”

This surprised the old fae as his son never raised his voice on him. “We both know that that’s not your true wish.”

“Silver, do humor me and just let me finish my wish.” He pouted, swirling the tomato juice in the mug before drinking it.

“Father, we all know how much you love them.” The young knight sighed before taking a seat on a nearby chair. “You always gush about them whenever we eat or do anything.”

“Oh Silver, I appreciate the concern but sometimes you got to let go.” A forlorn smile graced his lips.

“And sometimes you have to be selfish!” Both of them looked surprised at his outburst yet Silver regained his composure and continued. “You love them, right?! Then why not be with them? You took me in out of love, right?”

“There’s a big difference here, Silver.” Lilia rubbed his temple as stress starts to build up.

“What’s the difference? We’re both humans with a short lifespan so you can't use that as an excuse!” His silver eyes narrowing as he gazed upon his father before widening. “You’re afraid, aren’t you?”

He let out a defeated chuckle before nodding. “You’ve grown so much, Silver. I’m so proud of you, you know?”

“Why? You could have been happily living with them.”

“Because I’m afraid to witness her death if we ever do start a family together.” At last, the older fae began letting his tears fall in front of his son. “I don’t think I’ll be able to survive seeing her pass while I still live on. I want it to last for all eternity but to remove her mortality is too inhumane.”

“I-I’m sorry…” Silver lowered his head, having a little understanding of what he meant. “I didn’t mean to –”

“So, for my wish this Star Sending…” After a pathetic attempt to control his tears, he gulped and continued. “I want to be given another chance to be with them… and this time, I’ll bear the pain of losing them when the time comes.”

A shine of light filled the wishing star confirmed his wish inside the item. Silver walked towards him and let the man cry his heart out in his arms. He both felt sad and honored that Lilia is willing to cry in front of him. He truly hopes that his father’s wish is granted. Bringing out the wishing star, he proclaimed his wish.

“I wish (y/n) can return in twisted wonderland once more.”

“Silver, you didn’t have to waste your wish for this…”

“I don’t mind having a parent like them.” He smiled before heading towards the door with both wishing stars at hand. “They’re a much better cook than you anyway.”

“Hey!”

The day of Star Sending has arrived and everybody is once again by the huge tree behind NRC. It went well without a hitch and Lilia’s phone filled with recordings of Sebek and Silver dancing in perfect sync towards the taiko being played by Jack of Savanaclaw. As all students began returning to their dorms, the bat fae decided to stay a little longer and was given privacy by the rest of the Diasomnia students.

“Catch me, Lilia!” A voice screamed from above.

Turning his attention to the voice’s origin. His eyes widened before extending his arms ready to catch the person. A huge smile on his face as you landed safely into his arms. You let out a sigh of relief as you steadied yourself in his hold.

“Do not question why I was up in the air.” You huffed, glaring at the sky. “Safe landing my ass! I was dropped off 50ft up in the air!”

“My oh my, did you fall in love with me all over again?” He teased as he covertly wiped his tears.

“I saw that and maybe but I would still prefer a much safer landing.” You huffed before smiling at him. “What happened to the ‘I wish for world peace between all creatures’ wish, huh?”

“How did you know?”

“My coworker and I were trying to make a portal to get me back here because I forgot some stuff here to grab and funnily enough those wishing stars became our fuel source to open that portal.” You pulled out your phone and confirmed your arrival with a whole long spiel on how the landing would have killed you if you weren’t caught by Lilia. “But by your wish I assume there’s no need for me to get packing away from here?”

“Yes, if you’ll give me another chance.” He held out his hand, a makeshift flower ring on his palm. “Will you give me the honor of being your significant other?”

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Black Umbrellas

Josh Lyman x Reader

Words: 2277

Part One

Summary: The funeral arrives and everything seems to fall apart. Josh tries to keep his temper in check with Celia, but soon the reason behind their ongoing feud is revealed. 

Notes: Josh is definitely one of my favorite fictional characters and it seems like more of you are liking his imagines. As always, comments are always welcome!- Side note: I know that it’s been forever since I posted part one to this, and I’m very sorry. I hope to be writing for more West Wing, including more characters. 

-

It was just like he would have wanted. The morning was bright and sunny and began with laughter. Josh was standing in the kitchen with your mother and something he had said made her laugh, making the rest of you feel a little lighter on a day that would leave a great deal of weight on your hearts. It’s how your dad would have wanted his funeral to start. Not with sorrow, but with the sense of being together. 

Your mother made blueberry pancakes for breakfast using your dad’s famous recipe and  the three of you had coffee on the porch. Celia and Thomas were still asleep, so there was no danger of an argument breaking out for now. 

“It’s a beautiful day.” Marissa hummed, taking a sip of her coffee. Josh nodded in agreement, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, drinking in the morning sun as it rose over the trees. 

“How are you feeling?” He whispered as you rested your head on his shoulder. You shrugged. 

“Best that I can be, I guess.” He nodded in understanding and sweetly kissed the top of your head. 

“I’ll be here the whole time.” You placed a hand on his leg, drawing circles on the denim. You loved it when he wore jeans. It made him feel like he was yours for the day and not rushing off to assist in a national crisis. But even now, he was still the Deputy Chief of Staff. 

You probably noticed his pager buzzing before he did. He looked at you mournfully, his tone apologetic. “I’ve got a call from Leo.” 

You gave him a small smile and a node. “You better take it.” 

He moved out onto the lawn for some privacy and your mother gave your hand a gentle pat. 

“You picked a good one.” She smiled. You both watched as he ran a hand down his face, his expression morphing from saddened to angered to calm in a matter of seconds. 

“Is he seriously working right now?” Your sister’s shrill criticizing voice emerged from inside the house. 

“He’s the Deputy Chief of Staff for the President,” You scoffed, “the world didn’t stop just because he’s here.” 

“Sorry, I forgot. Not all of us are lowly small town journalists like me and dad.” 

“Are you serious, right now?” 

“No, you’re right, I’m sure it’s a matter of national security.” She spat and you stood up from the swing. 

“It very well could be!” You shouted. You wanted to slap her. Who was she to criticize Josh? 

“Girls!” Your mother finally interjected. You both turned your heads towards her and you immediately felt guilty, seeing the tears welling up in her eyes. “Don’t do this today. Please.” 

“Sorry mom.” You both said, hanging your heads. While you could feel everything start to burn up in your chest, you pushed it down. You had to be strong today. Luckily, your own pager went off before any more arguing could occur. 

“Hey Sam.” You sighed in greeting, grateful for a distraction. 

“Hey, how are you doing?” His voice was sympathetic and sweet. Typical Sam. 

“Okay, all things considered.” You laughed lightly, hoping to keep the conversation from getting too emotional. “How are things there?”

“Crazy as usual.” He chuckled. “I just wanted to call and check in.” There was something in his tone that told you there was more. 

“Sam… something is wrong with the speech, isn’t there?” 

“Well,” He blew out a breath, “Since you pushed it back, we’re speaking after Congress is handing us our asses which means that Toby needed to make some changes so we don’t sound like-”

“Kids trying to start a fight on the playground?” You finished. Josh had said the same thing. 

“Yeah…” 

You thought for a moment, but couldn’t focus on any one thing. “Just make sure that he sounds like we’re still coming out on top.” It was the only thing you could do. 

“We’ll try.” He paused, but you already knew what he was going to say. “And Y/N-”

“I know.” You smiled slightly to yourself. “Thanks Sam.” 

You strolled along the wrap-around porch, hoping to avoid Celia for at least a few more minutes, telling yourself it was the stress of the day. She would cool off eventually. 

“I hope everything is doing okay.” Your mother’s comforting tone helped to calm you down. You shrugged. 

“As okay as it ever is.” She nodded with understanding. She knew how messy the political world was. It didn’t stop because someone died. 

Josh came back, the stress clear on his face. When he locked eyes with you, he tried to brighten up, but you could tell that there was something weighing down on his shoulders. You implored him with a look, but he shrugged it off. 

“The usual.” He whispered, draping his arm around you again. “Don’t worry about it.” He turned to your mother with a sad smile. “Leo McGarry and The President send their deepest sympathies.” 

“I appreciate that.” She nodded and looked out over the orchards. How was she so strong through all of this? You felt ready to fall apart at the seams, but your mother was the picture of grace. She always did everything for everyone else and now she wasn’t giving herself the chance to grieve. 

Celia had gone inside to make calls to the funeral home and Thomas was in town picking up groceries. He wanted there to be one less thing for all of you to worry about. 

With a few hours until the funeral, all you wanted was to make it through the day without any more arguments. Josh had a few more calls with Leo and did his best to hide it from your judgmental sister but there was still that tension between them. You took a few sympathy calls from Donna and C.J.- both of whom were very kind in expressing their regrets in not being able to make it to the funeral. 

It was about noon when the President called. Your mother must have spent an hour talking to him in her office before she came back into the living room, passing off the phone to you. 

“Good afternoon, Mr. President.” You started, forcing yourself to keep it together. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t catch you the other day before you and Josh left.” He sighed. “I wanted to give my condolences in person.” 

“My family and I appreciate it nonetheless, sir.” 

“I am truly sorry for your loss, Y/N.” His fatherly tone made you want to cry. Truthfully, you’d always seen President Bartlet as your work-father more than your boss. “Bill was a good man and a good friend.” 

“He would have been honored to hear you say that, sir.” There was a long moment of silence between the two of you as you both let those words sink in before he concluded. 

“He was always very proud of you, Y/N. I hope you know that.” 

Your breathing hitched as you held back a cry. “Thank you, Mr. President.” As you hung up, you tried to keep the tears from falling. Your quiet moment to yourself was interrupted by the sounds of whispers growing into shouts on the front porch. Celia and Josh. 

As you approached, their words became more and more clear. 

“When are you going to stop treating her like a child?”

“I’m sorry, but I figured I would let her go on thinking that her sister is a crazy lunatic!” 

“Keep your voice down! She’ll hear you.” 

“Let her hear, Celia.” Josh’s voice became a growl. “Let her hear that after all these years, you’ve just been jealous of everything that she’s been able to accomplish and you couldn’t.”

“I don’t know why we’re even having this conversation.” Celia scoffed. You opened the door a crack and watched her step closer to him. “I’m not jealous, Josh. I’m right. Y/N has had everything handed to her since the day she was born. She doesn’t deserve her job.. And she doesn’t deserve you.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.” Josh ran a hand down his face and turned away, but she was persistent.

“We met first, Josh. We started seeing each other and then you fell for her little charms just like everybody else.” 

“You two were seeing each other?” You gasped, finally stepping out from behind the door. Josh let out a frustrated groan. 

“No, honey, we weren’t-”

“Is that why you two are at each other’s throats all the time? Because you were together?”

“We were never together!” He exclaimed. He reached to put his hands on your shoulders, but you stepped away, staring down your older sister. 

“You really think I don’t deserve my job… my husband… my life?” 

She said nothing. Her mouth formed a thin line as she gave you a silent, hard stare. You wanted to slap her. You wanted to scream. Instead, the sky let out a low, tumbling growl of thunder that served as the final straw. You looked up at the darkened clouds as the first raindrop landed on your cheek. 

“No no no no no. This isn’t what he would have wanted.” You cried, holding out a hand as more water fell. “It’s supposed to be sunny and beautiful and… and…” 

“Y/N,” Josh started, but you didn’t hear him. 

“I can’t deal with this right now.” Was all you said as you took off down the steps and towards the road. You didn’t know what to think, but the rain hitting your skin was enough to fuel your fury to hide your sadness. 

“Where is she going?” Marissa asked, feeling the tension in every thunder roll. Josh slammed his hand against the porch railing. 

“I don’t know. But I’ll take care of it.” He gave Celia a glare that could halt an army before running after you.

-

You ended up in an old tool shed somewhere in the orchard, your cries drowned out by the rain pounding against the wooden walls. Your clothes were soaked but you didn’t care. There was just an hour until the funeral and the storm didn’t show any sign of stopping. This was all wrong. 

Your dad was the only one who could have fixed this mess. Whenever either you or your husband fought with Celia, he was the one that could settle everyone down and make you all laugh until your sides hurt. What if you never laughed like that again? 

The rain turned into a soft- but consistent- drizzle and you were sure you heard the sound of a car approaching the shed. You heard your husband calling your name before you even opened the door. 

“How did you know I’d be here?”

He gave you a long, sad look. “When you ran off, your mother said it’d be best if I took a car so we’d have someplace warm to sit and talk. She said you’d probably come here.” He opened the passenger door of his car and just waited. 

Instead of running into the warm heat of the car, you ran into his arms. While you felt like you had no more tears to shed, your body just shook with silent sobs. After a while, he picked you up and put you in the car, quickly going over the driverseat so he could take you in his embrace again. 

“I feel so stupid.” You sniffed. “We’re supposed to be mourning dad and I’m running off like a child.” 

“Don’t beat yourself up.” He muttered into your hair. “Grief does something to our heads… everyone has to deal with it.” He pulled away to look at you. “I shouldn’t have argued with Celia.” 

“No.” You shook your head. “No, I’m glad I know what she really thinks of me. Of us.” 

He pushed a hair behind your ear and gave you a small smile. “You have to know that I would never hide something like that from you unless I thought it didn’t matter. Celia and I got drinks one time before I met you and now she likes to hold it over my head.” He sighed. “And don’t beat yourself up about what she said. You’re one of the hardest working, badass women that I know. You deserve everything that you’ve built.”

He kissed your forehead and you fell into silence again. Without any words, he knew that you believed him about Celia and that the whole thing was blown out of proportions by your sister’s need for attention. He just hoped that you and Celia could start over. As much as he despised her most of the time, he knew what it was like to lose a sister. 

“Why don’t we head back to the house and try and dry off before the funeral?” He suggested softly. You just nodded, laying your head on his shoulder as he drove back to your childhood home. 

-

It wasn’t the sunny day that you wanted it to be. Everyone stood with black umbrellas and somber faces and you did your best to keep it together. Josh held your hand the whole way through, his support not faltering for a single second. You knew this couldn’t be easy for him either and yet he was your rock through all of it. 

The clouds blocked the sun for the rest of the day but you told yourself that it was okay. They were the cloud-kingdoms your father always talked about. The ones he wrote in those little books tucked away in the house. And you took comfort in the fact that you knew, now, that he was up there with them. 

[nooneelsecomesclose17]

Daddy's first pride

This is probably terrible, if so I'm sorry. From the Ana'verse.

"Plain iced cupcakes with different flags or rainbow icing." Robert announced as Aaron walked in the door with Ana on his hip and Seb following, making a beeline for his toys, giving his Dad a half hearted wave, as usual too interested in playing than anything else.

"Is this a quiz or..." He sets Ana down on the floor having picked her up from Sarah. He just stares at his husband, surrounded by recipe books, tapping away on his laptop, Sara in her bouncy chair in front of him fast asleep.

"For Pride. I can't make my mind up. Which do you think would be better?"

"Can we go back to the beginning, because I feel like I've walked in halfway through the series."

"Charles came in the cafe today, he's organising Pride in the village and he asked me to get involved." Aaron hasn't seen Robert look so eager about anything for ages, not since he came out of prison and he smiles along with him. "He's asked all local businesses for sponsorship or to be involved. I'm doing refreshments and stuff."

"When is it?"

"Next month. He said he'd called at the yard but couldn't make you hear." He goes back to scrolling on his laptop. "What do you think of these?"

"Must've had the crusher going." He shakes his head and picks his way through the mess surrounding Robert before he can sit down, lifting Ana onto his lap. "I can't hear a thing with that going you know that. What am I looking at?"

"Cookies. Maybe Mum could ice them, you know, all the different flags?"

"Yeah, why not. You know I'm the wrong person to ask, all I care about is if they taste nice."

"Idiot." He leans over to kiss him, closing his laptop. "I've put tea in early because there's a meeting at the village hall at six."

"About?"

"Pride, Aaron! I'm on the committee so I have to be on time. So you'll have to do bath time and that. I'll be home before they go to bed."

"There's a committee?"

"Yes. It all has to be arranged. You can help if you want. Mum's already volunteered, and there's Matty, Ethan, Charles, Nicola and Vic, oh and your Gran." He couldn't help smiling because he'd not seen Robert this animated in ages even if he truly couldn't remember any conversation they'd had about any of this.

"I'm not one for meetings am I, but I can do heavy lifting and that." He hesitates, not wanting to dampen Robert's mood one bit.

"What?"

"Nothing, it's just...you've never really seemed interested in going to pride or 'owt." Robert looks down and he instantly feels bad. "Oi, it's not a criticism, I just wondered...you seem to be going at this hell for leather that's all. Did you want to go before or...?"

"Not really...I, nearly went once, in London. Chickened out at the last minute, worried someone from work might see me and just know which was daft I know, and when you and me got together, something always seemed to get in the way. I just thought...I know who I am now, and I'm happy. That's something to celebrate, isn't it?"

"Yeah, course. Be my first time too." He winks making Robert laugh. "Right, so, what else have you got planned?"

--------

"Robert!" It's only been a week and Aaron is wishing the days away so he can have his husband, and his house back. He's come home to a living room full of boxes.

"Oh, you're home. You're early."

"I thought I'd sack it off for the day and we could go to the pub for tea with the kids. I didn't expect to come home to...well this."

"Daddy look!" All of a sudden Seb emerges from behind the pile of boxes with what looks like a door curtain trailing behind him.

"Very nice mate. Robert what is all this."

"Ah...well..." Robert scratches his head as he untangles Seb from the decoration he's wrapped himelf in. "The thing is, I'm kinda in charge now."

"How come?"

"It was meant to be Andrea, although if you ask me she only agreed because she thinks it'll keep her in with Charles." Aaron nods, even though he really has no idea what he's talking about, but then Robert's always been more into village gossip than him. "Anyway she's cried off, I don't know, some kind of drama with Jamie again, and well Charles needed the help."

"And you agreed."

"He was stuck!"

Robert and Charles have struck up a kind of friendship since Robert came home, and Aaron knows that he's confided in him, stuff he doesn't want to tell Aaron, or things he needs to sort out before he does.

"Right, so basically the house is going to be a store room for the next fortnight?"

"No, I'm moving it all over to the village hall, but it needed checking, and Mum was going to help but then Ana wanted to go to the swings so she took her, and Sara."

"I'm helping!" Seb pipes up, with his head inside another box as Robert shook his head.

"Well how about you help me and Daddy move these boxes and then we can go and get some tea?"

"Chips?"

"If you get your head out of that box and stop spreading stuff everywhere then maybe."

--------

The next few weeks are a flurry of plans, of Robert having daily brainwaves or panics about one thing or another, and his phone is constantly lighting up with WhatsApp messages, but finally it's the evening before and he thinks Robert has calmed down. He's at one final committee meeting leaving Aaron in charge of the kids tea.

"You alright mate?" Seb's pushing his pasta around the plate rather than eating.

"Where's Daddy?"

"He's at his meeting, you know sorting things for tomorrow. He won't be long."

"What's Pride?" He says after pushing a few more bits of pasta around. He supposes he shouldn't be surprised Seb's asking, it's all they've spoken about for the last month or so after all.

"Well in some places it's like a big parade and it's full of colour and everyone's happy. Emmerdale's a bit small for a parade though ain't it, so it's just going to be like a big party with music and face paints and food and all sorts of things."

"Oh."

"What's up mate?"

"Oscar, at school, he said havin' two Daddies is weird." Aaron's never head of this Oscar, and he has to remind himself it wasn't the kids fault that he obviously hadn't been taught properly.

"Do you think it's weird?"

"No. You and Daddy both play with my trucks and take me on the swings."

"Exactly, some boys and girls have a Mummy and Daddy, like Eve, some have two Mummies like Moses and Johnny, and some like you, Ana and Sara have two Daddies. But all of you have fun, and everyone loves you, so it's not weird. Oscar maybe just doesn't understand hey?"

"But I had Mummy too." Aaron let out a breath, it'd been a good while since he'd mentioned Rebecca, other than saying goodnight to her photo every night. He wished Robert was here, he was always better at dealing with it than him.

"Yeah, well, Moses has a Daddy too doesn't he? A family can be made up of whoever, and still be the same as everyone elses. Do you understand?"

"I think so. And pride is like a party?"

"Yeah, celebrating the fact that people like me and Daddy can be together and stuff."

"But...why?"

"Because years ago we wouldn't have been allowed to get married or be together and some people still think we shouldn't."

"That's silly."

"Yes it is. Really silly."

"Can we go see Daddy?" Aaron smiles, and nods, happy that Seb's satisfied with his answer.

It's a bit of a struggle, managing the three of them, but eventually he gets Seb to push Sara in her chair, while he carries Ana, and they're heading towards the village. Suddenly Seb stops, mouth open and Aaron stops fiddling with Ana's cardigan to see what's wrong.

"Wow." Main Street is literally awash with colour and Seb's eyes are as wide as Christmas. "Look Daddy!"

"I am mate. Cool huh?" He can see Robert in the distance, with Charles and he nudges Seb to carry on walking, smile growing wider as they gets closer to his husband, seeing how happy he is.

"Daddy! Everything's pretty!" Seb all but abandons the buggy to run the last few metres to Robert who immediately picks him up and sits him on his shoulders.

"What do you think young man?" Charles asks him and Seb giggles. He likes Charles, had crazed them to be allowed to go to the after school club he'd set up in the village.

"I like the colours! Daddy said that Pride is cos he and Daddy are allowed to get married. Is that right?"

"Something like that yes. Do you remember we talked about it last week at after school club?"

"When we coloured in?"

"That's right. All of your drawings are hanging up in the church so maybe you can show your Daddies tomorrow."

"OK!"

"Come on chatterbox, let Charles get home."

"He's fine. I'll leave you to it. It looks really good Robert, you've done a great job getting everyone organised, especially last minute."

They take a slow walk home once Robert's done one last check of everything. Aaron's just happy to wait, happy to watch him. It's been a strange couple of years since he came out of prison, ups and downs along the way and he knows Robert's struggled with village events sometimes, feeling as though people are watching him, judging him. Seeing him taking such a delight in organising everything hopefully means he finally feels properly back at home.

"You ready?" Finally finished he kisses Aaron, Seb resting against his shoulder, suddenly tired. "It does look ok, right?"

"Yeah. Proper proud of you I am."

--------

"She's sleeping again." Aaron clicks off the light and slips into bed beside him, not getting any response from his husband. "You ok?"

"Hmm? Yeah. It's just..."

"What?"

"Charles asked me if I'd say something tomorrow."

"Ok, and...you don't want to? I'm sure he'd understand."

"No I do but...I don't know what to say."

"Just say whatever comes to mind. You don't have to make a big speech, just welcome everyone. He wouldn't have asked you if he didn't think you could."

"I just...it has to be perfect."

"Robert, it already is. Look at what you've done, the village looks amazin', and tomorrow is going to be brilliant and that's down to you."

"People helped."

"Yeah, but they wouldn't without you geeing them up. It's all set up now...you get to enjoy yourself."

"Mmm, love you, you know. I'm glad I didn't go that time in London, I'm glad my first pride is with you."

"Soppy git."

--------

"Right, I'm ready." He's barely set a foot on the bottom stair when Robert stops him.

"No."

"What do you mean no?"

"You are not wearing all black. I will suffer it the rest of the year, but not today."

"Why the hell not? Last I checked it was a free country and I can wear whatever I want."

"No Daddy. You has to wear colour! It's the rule." Aaron bends down to Seb who has his arms crossed, mimicking Robert.

"Oh is it? Well I heard that it's the rule to tickle little boys until they shouted me to stop!"

"No! Daddy, stop it! Daddy help me!"

"Seb's right." Aaron stops tickling his son to frown at his annoying husband. Robert's wearing a t-shirt with PRIDE emblazoned across the front in the colours of the bisexual flag and before he can ask what he considers colourful enough he's handing him a bag. "I got you this."

He glares at him a moment longer, pulling what looks like a t-shirt from the bag.

"I knew you wouldn't actually wear proper colour so I got it made up in black." The shirt has 'love wins' across the front made to look like rainbow paint splatters. "Will it do?"

"Fine." He sighs, but he's smiling.

"I, er, I also got these, for the kids." He hands him three more shirts each saying the same thing. "You like 'em?"

"Perfect. Right then, I'll get changed, you can sort them, and then finally we can go!"

Fifteen minutes they're off, Seb running ahead, while Aaron has Aaron on his shoulders, little hands clutching at his hair. Robert's behind them, stopping to adjust Sara's sunhat.

"Seb hang on mate." He stopped at the top of the drive until Robert catches him up.

"Oh my God."

Main Street was full of people, and Aaron couldn't wipe the smile from his face.

"Look what you did."

"Yeah." He sounds stunned.

In the crush, the lose each other after a little while, and it's not until he hears Charles announcing Robert's name that he knows where he is. Making his way to the stage that's been set up next to the church he stands to one side with Sara's pushchair, Ana still on his shoulders. He can see Seb at the side of the stage with Vic so he's happy to stay where he is.

"Um...I don't quite know what to say. When Charles talked about this, I don't think any of us expected quite so many people. Er, it took me a long time to accept who I was, that, um, that I'm bisexual, that it's ok...Fifteen years actually, and now I'm married to the most wonderful man in the world and we've got three kids, and I'm happy. It's been a hell of a journey but I'm truly happy. Anyway I guess what I'm trying to say is that it's ok to not know, to take your time, to go at your own speed...so, have a wonderful day everyone!"

Aaron can barely hear himself think at the cheer, the whistle as Robert steps off the stage, picking Seb up and kissing him as he goes.

It takes a while but eventually they find each other and he sees that Seb had convinced his Daddy to let him get his face painted, cheeks perfectly matching his t-shirt that proclaims 'my daddies love me' with both a pride flag and bisexual flag.

"Was it ok?" Robert asks as Aaron moves Ana so she's standing with Seb, holding onto his hand.

"Did you hear them? It was perfect." He kisses him before hugging him tight. "Love you so much."

"Love you too."

"Daddy I'm hungry! Can we get a cookie from Ganma now?"

He laughs into Robert's neck as the moment's broken. It didn't matter, the whole day has been perfect from start to finish.

[aidanchaser]

Table of Contents beta’d by @ageofzero @magic713m @ccboomer @aubsenroute @somebodyswatson​

Chapter Fifteen The Heist

Luna Lovegood hated Hogwarts. Yes, she was in Ravenclaw, and yes, she loved learning, but school? School was where curiosity went to die in a long, slow, stretched out sentence.

For Luna, the transition from her family home, where her father had encouraged her explorations and experiments, to a place of high stone walls and demanding bells had been terrible for her, and she’d nearly quit after her first year.

Now she was glad that she had persisted, because school had one thing worthwhile: Ginny Weasley.

When Ginny had hexed those boys for calling her Loony, the stars in the dark night had burst into existence, and school had become not just bearable, but pleasant. Luna had skipped everywhere for the rest of the that week.

This year, however, there was no skipping. Even Herbology, one of Luna’s favourite subjects, was overcast by the horrid cloud that Snape and the Carrows left on the school.

At least Ginny and Neville were in Herbology with her. N.E.W.T.-level courses often combined sixth and seventh years, and Luna was glad to have her closest friends with her at least once a week.

They were currently repotting Venomous Tentacula, which involved lots of soothing whispers and gentle strokes to the stem and vines. Neville worked easily, and Luna did too, even humming a lullaby to her knot of vines as she transferred the plant into a larger pot and carefully aerated the soil.

“Ow!” Ginny hissed, drawing her hand away from her plant.

Luna patted one of her vines and paused her melody. “Did it bite you, Ginny?”

Ginny pressed her wounded hand to her mouth. “Just got me with its leaves. Bloody bastard hates me.”

“You have to be gentle,” she sang, and reached for a watering can.

“I am gentle!”

Luna giggled. Ginny could be gentle, but it was not her natural state by any stretch.

Once Luna had finished repotting her Tentacula, she moved to Ginny’s station to help her work.

“You have to be kind and patient.” Luna ran her fingers along one of the vines. “It’s a sensitive plant.”

Beneath Luna’s hands, the vines no longer lashed out with sharp, sudden outbursts of movement, but instead swayed in time to her humming.

“See?” Luna paused her song. “Now put your fertilizer in that pot.”

Professor Sprout praised them all for their hard work, and congratulated them for finishing the lesson without any bite accidents. “There’s usually at least one of you turned bright purple and on your way up to the hospital wing, but you all did excellent work today,” she beamed at them.

“Hospital wing’s full up anyway,” Hannah Abbott mumbled, just out of Sprout’s earshot, as she cleaned up her work station.

Hannah looked unusually wild today. Her thick plaits were uncharacteristically loose, and dirt streaked her cheeks. She wrestled her book into her bag with the sort of determination one might use when salvaging Snargaluff pods.

Neville reached across his station to hers and picked up her shovel and trowel. “Ernie will be fine,” he murmured, and returned her tools to the greenhouse shed.

Hannah tried and failed to regain control of her trembling lip, then hurried out of the greenhouse before Neville could come back.

It wasn’t just Ernie, who was recovering from a detention after he had called the Daily Prophet “rubbish” and added that he hoped Harry would show up at Hogwarts so he could “put Snape in his place.”

It was Parvati and Padma Patil, who had refused to attend Muggle Studies. Each night that they refused earned them a night of detention, until after three weeks both girls had become too ill to attend any of their classes.

It was Hugh Ward, who had defiantly announced to the boys in his Slytherin dormitory that he was a half-blood.

Luna didn’t know what curses the boys had used to try to punish Hugh for being so proud of his Muggle lineage, but he had been in the hospital wing all week. Luna had visited him, and the Patil twins. She made a point to visit anyone who had been in Dumbledore’s Army, because they were her friends.

On these visits, it was not uncommon for her to find Hannah, helping Madam Pomfrey change linens and administer medicine to those who needed it. Though Hannah never did any of the Charm work in the hospital wing, she watched closely each time Madam Pomfrey cast a spell.

Luna knew that Hannah wanted to become a Healer. Each time Luna visited the hospital wing, she thought about becoming a Healer, too. She liked caring for people, and she was taking enough N.E.W.T.s for it. But so much of Healing was urgent, and Luna had never done well with urgent.

“Must you always move so slowly?” Ginny snapped.

Luna frowned at her gloves as she packed them away. She much preferred the greenhouse to the castle and couldn’t understand why Ginny was so eager to get back. She’d much rather be down here with the fresh air than back with the Carrows.

“Come on,” Ginny whined, “I’m starved.”

Luna squeezed her Herbology textbook between her personal field guide and the thick tome for Transfiguration. With those three texts and her scaly Care of Magical Creatures book, her bag was nearly bursting at the seams.

“Why didn’t you eat breakfast?” Luna shouldered her heavy bag and hurried to the door where Ginny and Neville were waiting.

“I wasn’t hungry at breakfast.”

“Helen said she was sulking in the Owlery after a row with Harry,” Neville whispered, but not as quietly as he should have.

“We didn’t have a row! And anyway, don’t use his name. Someone might hear you.”

“Should we just call him You-Know-Who?” Neville asked with a grin.

Ginny shoved him, none too gently, and picked up her pace, leaving Neville and Luna trailing behind her.

Luna pursed her lips and looked up at Neville. There was something different about him this year, but Luna couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

“Did you grow taller over the summer?” she asked, and tried to gauge if she was looking up more than she had looked up last year.

“What? Oh — yeah, I did. Gran sent out for a whole new wardrobe.” He wrinkled his nose. “It was only like, an inch I think, but she insisted. I think it was her way of apologising that Mum and Dad were gone most of the summer.”

Luna tilted her head. “I suppose they work quite a lot.”

Neville laughed. “I haven’t seen much of them since… well, I guess since Voldemort came back. I mean, a meal here and there, but usually only one at a time.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s not bad.” He adjusted his bag. “Their work’s important. And I’ve always had Gran around.”

Luna looked down at her hands. There was dirt under her nails, and she supposed she ought to clean up before lunch, but she liked when her hands were dirty. It reminded her of her mother, who had always smelled like earth and soot. It also reminded her of her father, whose fingers were often stained with ink.

“But you miss them.”

It wasn’t a question. Luna didn’t ask questions she already knew the answers to. There were plenty of other questions to be concerned with.

“What do you think we should call Harry?” she asked. “And I suppose we’ll need names for Ron and Hermione as well. Should we all have secret names? Like cats, perhaps? I should like to be Turnip.”

When she and Neville reached the castle, Ginny was waiting impatiently at the door.

“You both walk slow,” she complained, and stormed inside.

“My,” Luna said, “it must have been quite a bad fight with Parsnip.”

Neville frowned. “No, I don’t like that one.”

“Butterscotch?”

“Hmm…”

“Pickled Herring?”

“Must it be food?”

“I like Pickled Herring, because it sounds like him, but backwards.”

“I suppose.”

Luna waved goodbye to Neville and joined the Ravenclaw table. She sat next to a girl named Kim Sheringham, who Luna did not consider a friend, exactly, but they had lived together for the better part of six years, which might count for something to other people. It just didn’t count very much to Luna.

“Hi, Luna,” said Kim.

“Hello,” Luna said, but remained focused on her lunch

“How was Herbology?”

Luna hummed. “Warm. Pleasant.” She reached for the pitcher and poured herself a glass of water.

“Sounds nice. Listen, do you think you could do me a favour?”

Luna stared at Kim and took a sip from her cup. She waited for Kim to ask for what she really wanted.

Kim faltered, but she’d always been more keen on small talk than Luna. Finally, she said, “Could you tell Flitwick I’m not well? I need to review for the Muggle Studies exam tonight. Please, I just can’t keep all the Sacred Twenty-Eight straight. Just tell Flitwick I fell ill after lunch or something. Any excuse will do.”

Ravenclaws, as a rule, did not skip lessons — unless they had an exam to prepare for.

“I could review with you,” Luna offered, and pretended not to notice the way Kim’s brow furrowed.

“That’s alright, thanks. Just tell him I’m not well. He’ll believe whatever you say, you know.”

Now it was Luna’s turn to frown. She didn’t understand what Kim meant, but she didn’t get to ask because Kim was already leaving.

Luna finished her meal alone, still puzzling over Kim’s comment, and wandered to Charms by herself. She apologised to Flitwick for Kim’s absence, and promised to take notes for two. Flitwick readily accepted her vague excuse, and this only puzzled Luna more. How had Kim known that Flitwick would not press her?

She was distracted throughout class, but her notes were no less for it. She was not sure that they would help Kim — no one ever asked to borrow Luna’s colourful, pictographic notes — but Luna would not mind explaining them.

After Charms, Luna had a free period, while the Gryffindors took their Charms lesson. She passed Ginny and Neville outside Flitwick’s classroom door and smiled. Ginny grinned back, which worried Luna. It was not the sort of grin that suggested Ginny was truly in a better mood; it was Ginny’s mischievous grin.

Luna waited until she was in the library to check the Galleon in her pocket. She had not noticed it grow warm during her Charms lesson, but it must have, for there was a new date and time inscribed where the identification number would be. Tonight, an hour before Muggle Studies.

Whatever Ginny had planned would get them all into trouble, certainly, but Luna at least knew that it would be fun, and fun was in such short supply these days.

There was plenty of time between now and then, so Luna set about working on their personalised field guides for Herbology. She had started adding to it, not just for Herbology, but also for Care of Magical Creatures. Hagrid was sweet, but Luna did not find him an adept professor. She could appreciate the practicality of his lessons, at least, but had started recording what she learned from their field experiments into her Herbology project. She enjoyed this sort of work, collecting information and organising it. And decorating it.

Professor Flitwick had suggested a career studying magical plants and animals, doing field work, exploring, traveling and notetaking, making discoveries. Luna liked the idea of it, but the way he had presented it sounded tedious. He had mentioned the Ministry and paperwork, almost as if he had been trying to put her off from the job. He had even suggested that she spend her summer reaching out to people at the Ministry to try some job-shadowing, but Luna had a hard time finding people in the Ministry that were not involved with either the Death Eaters, the Rotfang Conspiracy, or the Heliopath Army.

Was it not enough to simply wander?

Luna had never been good at purpose. It was one of the many things she had always admired about Ginny. Ginny had always known who she was and what she wanted. Luna, for all her appearances of self-assurance, wondered and doubted far more than anyone knew.

Luna finished her note about Fire Crabs in preparation for tomorrow’s lesson and waited for the ink to dry. She swung her legs back and forth and stared out of the large window. Neither of her parents had ever made a living on the things they were passionate about. They did things that were uninteresting to fund their curiosities. She wondered if she would end up doing the same.

With a sigh, Luna closed her field guide and headed down to the Great Hall for dinner. Again, she ate alone, but she watched Ginny talk with one of the girls from her dorm. Ginny’s smile was wide but empty, and she tapped her fork anxiously against her plate.

Neville sat alone, picking at his food, and Seamus and Lavender sat together, but they had more interest in the professors’ table than in each other.

Luna shook her head. Gryffindors were always so obvious. If the Carrows were even a little bit smarter, they might have known to be suspicious.

Neville left dinner first, and after an exact count of thirty, Ginny followed. The rest of the D.A. made their way out of the Great Hall in staggered exits. Some relied on a count of their own choosing. Some relied on waiting until a certain number of people had exited before they made their way to the seventh floor.

If Umbridge had taught them anything, it was how to avoid getting caught.

Luna waited until Michael Corner loudly announced that he was going to check on Padma, and trailed after him at her usual aimless pace. When he headed for the hospital wing, Luna went all the way back to Ravenclaw Tower, but instead of climbing the stairs, she slipped down another corridor to the Room of Requirement.

The Room no longer looked as it had for D.A. meetings. In fact, Luna thought it looked rather like a proper classroom. There were even stacks of reference books on some of the desks.

“I thought if anyone did walk in on us, it would look like we were studying,” Neville said, when he saw Luna’s curious glance.

She hummed thoughtfully. “You should ask it not to let anyone walk in on us.”

Neville looked surprised, then frowned and sank into one of the desks. He drummed his fingers thoughtfully.

Luna always appreciated the way Neville took her ideas seriously, rather than laughed at them, or dismissed them instantly, the way so many of her peers and professors did.

Padma and Parvati returned from the hospital wing with Michael, and a small crowd surrounded them, asking if they were alright. Hannah and Susan were notable outliers, clustered by themselves and whispering quietly. Ginny, too, stood alone, trying to count heads, and another girl in a green headscarf, someone Luna had not spoken to since those early days of the D.A., sat by herself.

Luna slipped into the desk beside Atalanta Shafiq. She smiled pleasantly.

“Hello. It’s Atalanta, isn’t it?”

The girl stared at her with large brown eyes. Luna thought she was in fourth year, the same Dennis Creevey would have been in.

“You’re Luna.”

Luna’s smile widened. “How did you know?”

“Everyone knows you. You’re one of the people who went to the Ministry with Potter two summers ago.”

“Oh, you mean Pickled Herring.”

Atalanta stared at Luna as if she had lost her mind, a look Luna was used to, though she hadn’t seen it in a while. She hadn’t spent much time with new people recently.

“You’re friends with Hugh, aren’t you?” Luna asked her.

Atalanta nodded. “I know you visit him. How is he?”

“Oh — he’s well. Don’t you see him yourself?”

The girl turned to stare straight ahead. Her face was hard and her voice tight. “He asked me to stop coming. As if everyone doesn’t already know we’re friends — as if he has anyone else to bring him notes —” She broke off abruptly and her nostrils flared. “Everyone knows we were friends with the Creeveys anyway. My lineage doesn’t protect me as much as he thinks it does.”

“It sounds like he cares about you.” Luna hummed. “But you seem like someone who can take care of yourself. It’s okay for both of those things to be true, you know.”

Atalanta did not say anything. Luna appreciated the way the girl considered her words. It was like watching someone put together a puzzle, and Luna loved puzzles.

The door opened and closed one last time for Pearl Lais and Ginny announced, “I think that’s everyone. Let’s get started.”

All conversations ceased as she spoke. Ginny commanded a room with more ease than Harry had. Luna could not help but smile dreamily.

“So as you all know, tonight we have an exam for Muggle Studies.”

“I won’t take it,” Zacharias Smith announced loudly.

“And we fully plan to resume our protest,” Parvati added, voice defiant. Padma looked less confident, but she nodded when Parvati looked at her.

“Standing outside the Muggle Studies classroom is great,” Neville said, “but if we could do something more coordinated and subversive, we might be able to get more students on our side, and you wouldn’t have to go to detention.”

Padma raised an eyebrow. “You have something planned that won’t get us in trouble?”

“As long as we don’t get caught,” Ginny grinned. “I heard Snape threatened to take your Prefect badge. Your protest has been great, but it’s not worth that. We need people like you in charge as much as possible. Let me show you what we have in mind. It’s so easy, even Neville could do it.”

Neville did not look upset by the remark in the least, and pulled a stack of loose parchment from the desk at the front of the classroom. He began passing it out.

“It’s partly a Muggle-trick,” he said, “so it’s perfect for Muggle Studies.”

“There’s a bit of Charm, of course,” Ginny said, “to make it more interesting.”

Ginny and Neville explained the procedure of the prank to the members of Dumbledore’s Army. Everyone had several sheets to practice with, but Luna took to it right away. She found it a rather endearing bit of spellwork, but she knew that Alecto Carrow would hate it. Still, it was a harmless and funny prank. Even if they did get caught, the punishment couldn’t be too severe.

As Luna finished folding her third sheet of parchment, just for something to do with her hands, Ginny slid into the desk next to her.

“Hey,” she said, “I have a special job for you.”

Luna looked up from her parchment as Ginny pressed a small bottle into her hands.

“Neville got that from Herbology today. Can you smear it into Carrow’s book before the exam?”

Luna held up the colourless vial. “Should I wear dragonhide gloves?”

“No, it has to be ingested. Just the corners of the pages will do.”

“How will I get the book?”

“Just ask her for it. Say you need to check your notes or something. She’ll believe whatever you tell her.”

Luna stared into Ginny’s deep brown eyes. “Why?”

“You have an honest face. If I ask, she’ll know something’s up.”

Luna wasn’t sure what it meant that she had an, “honest face,” but it was the nicest compliment Ginny had given her all year, so she took it and pressed it into her memory like she pressed flowers into her field guide.

“I should go now, then,” she said. “So I’ll have time.”

��Don’t worry about getting caught,” Ginny said. “I’ve got something else planned and she’ll probably single me out for the whole thing.”

Luna didn’t mean to smile, but she did. “I would be honoured to have detention with you,” and she punctuated her statement with a curtsy. Ginny laughed, and it made whatever punishments Luna might receive for smearing poison into Alecto Carrow’s book worth it.

As Ginny had predicted, Professor Carrow did not suspect anything was amiss when Luna arrived at her office early and asked to check her notes against the enormous tome that she read out of during their lessons. She muttered something about Ravenclaws and perfectionism, then left Luna at a desk with her notes and the book.

Carefully, Luna dabbed some of the poison onto her finger and smeared it onto the upper right corners of each page. She pretended to skim some of the pages, and even made a few marks into her own notes to sell the lie, but she wondered if she even needed to. Professor Carrow hardly paid her any mind.

When she had finished, she thanked Professor Carrow, and waited until she was alone in the hallway to wipe her hands clean.

All students were required to take Muggle Studies, and the curriculum was entirely new, so everyone, from first year to seventh, took it together in the Great Hall three evenings a week. Luna found it slightly more entertaining than History of Magic, because while Professor Carrow could drone on much like Professor Binns, Carrow at least took questions, and Luna loved when her friends asked questions.

In their very first class, Neville had challenged every line of Professor Carrow’s reading. She had snappishly asked for his lineage not twenty minutes into class. With a wide grin, Neville had said, “Longbottom and Fawley.”

The other day, Ginny had asked Professor Carrow why they weren’t going to evaluate the Carrow family tree the way they had the Bones family. Professor Carrow had turned red and Luna had expected her to hex Ginny then and there.

Luna had not asked any questions yet, though she had, at one point, raised her hand to point out that it was unfair to accuse Muggles of being liars and cheats when Thicknesse was a continuation of Scrimgeour’s evil plot to bring down the Ministry through the horrors of gum disease. The other students had laughed, and Professor Carrow had given her a condescending smile.

“How could the Ministry allow such plots to happen right under their nose?” Professor Carrow had asked with a sickly smile.

“Same way they allowed Death Eaters to infiltrate and Voldemort to take over,” Neville had said loudly, and he’d gotten a week of detention.

The dining tables were removed from the Great Hall each night of Muggle Studies and were replaced with rows of desks. Students sat by year and by house, so Luna took a seat near the back of one of the Ravenclaw aisles. She thought it was a good thing that the D.A. was largely composed of upper-years. Professor Carrow would be less likely to notice them folding up their exams.

The Great Hall was quiet as students worked on their exams. Quills scratched against parchment and occasionally Luna heard the sound of a page turning as Professor Carrow licked her finger and turned the page of her heavy tome.

As she folded up her exam just like they had practiced in the Room of Requirement, Luna watched Professor Carrow closely. The woman coughed after five pages and reached for her tea. After ten pages, she rubbed her throat and finished her drink. By the fifteenth page, her cheeks were already flushed purple and she looked uncomfortable.

“Professor!” Ginny shouted. She didn’t need to shout, since the hall was as silent as O.W.L.s had been, but as her voice echoed, every head turned to her.

She had her hand stretched as high as she could and she bounced anxiously. “Professor!”

Professor Carrow stood from her desk and frowned down at Ginny. “This is an exam, girl. Be quiet.”

“It’s an emergency, Professor. Can I go? I’ll only be a minute.”

Professor Carrow’s mouth lifted in a sneer. “No.”

“Please, Professor? I mean, I’ll use my exam if I have to, but —”

Laughter rippled across the hall and Ginny grinned.

“Make it quick!” Carrow snapped at her, and Ginny sprinted from the hall.

She really was gone only a minute — both Luna and Professor Carrow counted — and Luna wondered what she possibly could have accomplished during that time.

Ginny maintained an appearance of studiousness as she returned to her exam, and Professor Carrow returned to her book. She rubbed her throat again and looked at her empty tea cup. She snapped her fingers impatiently. A house-elf appeared with a pop and poured her a fresh cup, then vanished just as quickly.

Luna forgot all about the clusters of parchment that decorated her desk. Her focus was wholly on Professor Carrow as the woman inspected the cup of tea. She sniffed it, tapped her wand against it, took a small sip, and seemed satisfied. She finished the cup and went back to her book.

Luna kept watching, and it was another seven pages before Professor Carrow licked her finger and paused. She looked at her hand, at the book, and then directly at Luna. Luna tried to shrink into her seat.

Carrow got to her feet and started down the aisle of Ravenclaw desks with a look of fury that might have cowed a dragon. Luna, however, was spared immediate consequences by a squeak that began on the Gryffindor side of the room, followed closely by a squeak from the Hufflepuff aisle.

Hastily, Luna Animated the collection of parchment mice that she had so carefully constructed during the exam. They joined the chorus of mice that now filled the hall, leaping off of desks and scampering towards Professor Carrow.

Luna didn’t think Professor Carrow was a woman who feared mice, but it at least startled her, and it certainly upset several of the other students, who screamed as the parchment creations scurried over their feet and onto their desks. Students leapt up onto chairs and desks, and the entire hall descended into chaos.

It was impossible to tell, as Ginny and Neville had probably planned, where the mice had come from. Carrow pointed her wand at the ones nearest to her, and they went up in flames, but they were quickly replaced with more. Some tried to climb her skirt while others scampered across the room, nibbling on exams and tearing every piece of parchment to shreds.

“Everyone out!” Carrow snapped, crushing one of the mice under her heel. “Orderly!” she added as a few of the more skittish students bolted for the door.

But even those that ran reached a wall of students who had, for some reason, stalled in the doorway of the Great Hall.

“What now?” Carrow elbowed her way to the front, and Luna stood on her tiptoes to peer over Draco Malfoy’s shoulder. She saw a message painted on the floor of the entrance hall in bright red, impossible to miss.

DUMBLEDORE’S ARMY: NOW RECRUITING

Professor Carrow tried to vanish the mess, but it sparked with fireworks and she leapt backwards. A pair of first years stared in awe. A few upper years laughed.

“Weasley!” Carrow snapped, and a few of the older students waited for the inevitable joke of, “Which one?” before realising that Ginny was the only Weasley left at Hogwarts.

Ginny leaned against the pillar that framed the door into the Great Hall. She smiled at Carrow. “Yes, Professor?”

Professor Carrow lifted her wand. “You’ll get more than detention, brat —”

“Say, Professor,” Ginny said, “you’ve got a little something on your —” Ginny gestured to her face, then paused and gestured to Carrow’s hands, “well — everywhere.”

Professor Carrow looked down at her hands, now bright purple.

“That looks like Venomous Tentacula poison,” said Neville. “You ought to be careful around the greenhouses, Professor.”

Carrow whipped around and aimed her wand at Neville, then searched the crowd for Luna. “You,” she snapped.

Luna raised her eyebrows.

“What’s your name?”

“Lovegood,” Luna said, before it had even occurred to her to lie.

Carrow ran her tongue across her teeth. “Lovegood? Your father runs The Quibbler?”

“Er — yes, Professor.”

“You and Weasley, to the Headmaster Snape’s office immediately.”

Luna started for the stairs, but Ginny folded her arms over her chest and refused to move.

“Weasley!”

“Snape isn’t Headmaster.”

“I’ve had just about enough of you. Pureblooded or not —”

“Last week you called me a blood traitor, but this week you’re suddenly all concerned with —”

“Imperio.”

Luna watched, horrified, as Ginny’s posture relaxed and her dark eyes widened.

“Stop!” Luna cried, which, futile as it was, at least provided cover as Neville drew his wand.

“Stupefy!” Neville shouted, and Professor Carrow fell backwards, sprawled over Ginny’s message on the floor.

A few of the students cheered and footsteps thundered down the stairs.

Amycus Carrow and Argus Filch shoved their way through the crowd of students. They took in the mess of paint on the floor, the unconscious and purple professor, and Neville with his wand drawn.

“What did you do, you filthy brat!” Amycus snarled.

“She was only Stunned,” Seamus Finnigan shouted. “Seemed fair since she was using a bloody Unforgivable!”

“Another week of detention then?” Neville asked, with more bravery than Luna thought anyone should have, considering how many detentions had landed students in the infirmary.

“No, I think your punishment should be a bit more public and swift —”

“Professor?” Malfoy interrupted. He grabbed Luna’s arm and pulled her forward. His Head Boy badge glinted in the candlelight. “Professor Carrow was just about to take Lovegood and Weasley up to the Headmaster’s office. Shall I help you escort them?”

Amycus Carrow did not do well with being interrupted. It was a challenge for him to hold so many thoughts in his head at once.

“Lovegood and Weasley?”

“Yes, sir. They’re responsible for this mess, too. Pansy can help Professor Carrow, here, and I’ll help you get this lot to Professor Snape.”

Luna did not fight Malfoy’s tight grip on her arm as he took her to Snape’s office, not the way Ginny pushed and pulled on Amycus as he dragged her up the stairs. Neville, too, was more docile in Filch’s grip, and he eyed Malfoy suspiciously.

Carrow announced the password, “Asphodel,” and the gargoyle that guarded the stairs to the Headmaster’s office parted with ease.

Luna was so rarely angry. Anger was a concept, something she witnessed in others, and maybe glimpsed in herself the way she could glimpse the edge of the Black Lake on a clear day. She did not feel true anger very often, but as she was pulled up to the Headmaster’s office, it rose in her chest with each step.

It was horribly unfair of Hogwarts, who had denied Umbridge access to the Headmaster’s office, to allow Snape control over it, when Snape was the very one who had killed Dumbledore.

Luna tried to swallow down her anger, but it refused to budge. She hated Hogwarts.

Carrow pounded his fist on the heavy oak door at the top of the stairs and pushed it open.

The Headmaster’s office was different from what Luna remembered. She’d only seen it once before, but she had adored it. There had been so many trinkets bobbing and whizzing about; it had been full of noise and life. It had reminded her of her mother’s office.

Now, however, it was cold and empty, with nothing but a Pensieve in a corner and a desk stacked with parchment. Fawkes’ perch remained, but was empty, and behind the Headmaster’s desk were the frames of all the previous Headmasters, including Dumbledore, fast asleep. She looked away, and settled on Snape’s face. As much as she disliked Snape, looking at him hurt less than looking at Dumbledore’s portrait.

Snape, seated at the Headmaster’s desk, kept his eyes on what looked to Luna like a letter.

“No, please, come right in,” he drawled. “I’m not busy or anything.”

“These students cursed Alecto,” Amycus said. “Stunned her right in the entrance hall.”

“They had nothing to do with it!” Neville snapped. “I Stunned her because she used an Unforgivable on Ginny! It was just me!”

With an eerie amount of care, Snape set the letter aside and finally looked at the group that had invaded his office. His face had no more displeasure than it usually did as he looked at each of them.

“Then give Longbottom a detention,” he finally said to Carrow. “Five feet of lines reading, ‘I will not hex my professors’ ought to do it.”

Luna could not tell if Snape was serious. Amycus appeared to be having the same problem. His jaw worked fruitlessly before he finally sputtered, “That’s it?”

Snape stood. “What would you like me to do? Expel him and send him back to his Dumbledore-fanatic parents? You’re in charge of discipline, Carrow. So discipline them. Can’t you control a few children?” He opened a cabinet and pulled out a cloak. “I have business off of the grounds tonight. I expect that this will be dealt with by the time I return.”

Snape held the door open for them, and Carrow reluctantly led them back down to the corridor. Snape swept past them, dark cloak billowing the way it had as he had paced the aisles during his Potions lessons, and disappeared down the stairs.

Carrow watched him go, a hard look on his face. “Are the dungeons ready, Filch?”

“Oiled the hinges this morning, sir,” Filch said. “Haven’t put the chains back in yet —”

“It’ll do for now.”

Ginny’s thrashing did not hinder Carrow in the slightest as he, Filch, and Malfoy took the three of them downstairs into the dungeons. Their wands were set on a nearby shelf, tauntingly visible but well out of reach, and then the three were left alone until Carrow could come up with something more creative.

“Did you see it?” Neville’s voice was steady, and he leaned almost comfortably against the stone wall.

The iron-wrought bars rattled as Ginny kicked them, but they did not budge. “Of course I saw it. We ought to go for it now, while Snape’s gone.”

Luna eyed a trickle of water that slid from the ceiling and into a small puddle on the floor. She wondered if it came from the Black Lake or a leaky pipe. “What did you notice?” she asked.

“The Sword of Godric Gryffindor,” Ginny said. “Didn’t you see it hanging under Dumbledore’s portrait?”

“Oh. Is it important?”

“Dumbledore left it to Harry,” Neville said. “He needs it. I don’t know how we could get it to him, though.”

“I can talk to him,” Ginny said. “If we could just get out of here —” She kicked again, but the bars did not budge under her assault.

“We aren’t getting out of here.” Neville retrieved a worn piece of parchment and a golden feather from his pocket. He searched for a dry spot on the floor and unfolded the old parchment. “But we can make a plan. Halloween would be good, when everyone’s at the feast.”

Ginny gave the bars one more kick for good measure, then joined Neville on the floor.

Neville pressed the tip of the feather to the parchment like a quill and said, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

—————————— ✶✶✶ ——————————

Ginny was forced to scrub the entrance hall clean until there was no trace of her graffiti, and students could see their reflection in the polished floor. It took her the better part of three full weeks and her hands were blistered and cracked when she was finished.

Luna spent every night reading out loud from Alecto Carrow’s horrible book, and if she faltered or hesitated in any way, she earned a welt and had to start over. It went on for two weeks.

Neville was left in the dungeons for a week, and did not appear for lessons nor meals. He said nothing about what happened to him, but he flinched when Seamus clapped him on the shoulder at his first meal back.

It wasn’t even an hour later that Susan approached Neville and asked what the revenge plan was. Neville told her to keep her head down until the Halloween feast.

To an outsider, it might have appeared that the Carrows had won. Muggle Studies lessons passed without incident. There were small protests in Dark Arts, but nothing more dramatic than civil disobedience. It was quiet at Hogwarts, until Halloween.

They started small. Seamus and Parvati slipped some of the Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes Exploding Whizz-Bangs into the eggs at breakfast with a Switching Spell. After the chaos of breakfast, Alecto Carrow promised to hold the entire school for an extra hour of Muggle Studies that evening if no one confessed or gave up the perpetrator.

No one said a word.

Lavender took the leaflets from the Daily Prophet with Harry’s face and the bounty and modified them. Instead of “Undesirable No 1” the leaflet read, “Desirable Chosen 1” which was enough of a change to get their point across. She lamented that Dean could have done better, but the rest of the D.A. praised her work.

The leaflets were blown up to twice their size and pasted into windows all across the castle, with the help of everyone in the D.A. Every common room, from Gryffindor to Slytherin, was plastered with Harry’s face.

By lunch, the Carrows were scorching walls left and right, and Atalanta Shafiq told everyone that the Carrows had accidentally blasted a hole through the Slytherin Common room right into the Black Lake and flooded the dormitories.

Neville’s job was an unfortunate one, but he took it with grace. He waited until lunch was nearly over, then shouted at Crabbe and asked, “I know you said you’re a pureblood, but isn’t there a bit of troll in your tree? Was it on your mother or father’s side?”

Crabbe threw a hex that sent Neville flying five feet backwards and when he got up, he was puking up something slimy. Hannah escorted him to the hospital wing.

Ginny’s role for the day revolved around being as suspicious as possible without getting into real trouble. She ducked through hidden corridors. She paused to fiddle with her bag or her shoes. Luna stayed close with her for most of it, until after Transfiguration, they ducked out of Amycus’ careful watch by slipping into Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom.

Demelza was waiting for them. “Ready?” she asked.

Ginny nodded and plucked out a strand of her hair.

Luna left the bathroom with Demelza, but Amycus Carrow saw exactly what he expected to see: Luna Lovegood and Ginny Weasley heading down to the Halloween feast.

Luna watched Demelza sit next to Helen Donoghue and engage Helen as easily as if she really were Ginny. Amycus stood at the door, eyes intent on Ginny. Luna could not help but smile, despite her trepidation at her own task.

She ate slowly, unsure how full her stomach ought to be. She looked at the professors and bit her tongue when she noticed that Snape was missing. Their plan hinged on Snape being out of his office.

Well, it was too late for them to change course now. Neville was waiting for her in the hospital wing, and Ginny was probably already hiding out by the Headmaster’s office.

Luna took a deep breath, pulled the bright yellow half of a Fainting Fancy from her pocket, and swallowed.

She woke with a headache in a corridor not far from the hospital wing with Neville and Michael Corner leaning over her. She licked her lips and tried to swallow down the spiced pepper flavour that seemed stuck to her tongue. She decided that she didn’t care for the second half of those Fainting Fancies.

“Are you alright?” Michael asked her.

Luna sat up and rubbed her throbbing head. “I fell,” she said.

“I tried to catch you. You should have warned me when you were going to do it.”

“It’s alright,” Neville said.

Luna gagged. His breath smelled like Porlock dung.

“You’d better get back to the feast,” Neville told Michael. “The less time you’re with us, the better it’ll look for you.”

“Are you alright?” Luna asked Neville as Michael hurried back to the Great Hall.

Neville grimaced. “I was hoping for boils. Madam Pomfrey says I’ll be tasting acid for a week, but she was at least able to stop the puking, so we can go ahead with the plan. Everything seems to be going well so far.”

“Oh… there is one thing…”

Luna told him that she had not seen Snape at the feast. Neville checked the map while they walked.

“I don’t see him at all,” Neville frowned. He ran his finger across the Marauder’s Map. “Oh — he’s just arrived at the gates. What do you think he left for?”

“Perhaps he’s joined a league of vampires. Halloween is a special holiday for them.”

“Then I guess we’d better hurry up before he finds us and drinks our blood.” Neville squinted at the map. “You catch up with Ginny. I have an idea. Peeves is just around the corner and if he can stall…”

Neville was still talking as he disappeared behind a tapestry of Mordicus Egg cooking over an open fire. Luna paused to watch the heavy tapestry resettle in Neville’s wake. The threads of the flames seemed alive as they rippled back and forth, until finally the tapestry stilled.

She skipped on ahead to the gargoyle at the end of the corridor. She spun around once in a circle, and did not see Ginny. So she spun again, and this time Ginny stepped out from behind a suit of armor.

“How’s Demelza doing?” Ginny asked.

“She’s very good at being you,” Luna said, then said, “Asphodel,” to the statue. It stepped aside easily and Luna hummed. “I really thought he would have changed it.”

“It’s a good thing he didn’t. Where’s Neville?”

“He said to go on without him.”

Ginny was already halfway up the stairs. “Alohomora,” she said, and the lock on the office door clicked open. She shoved the heavy door with her shoulder.

Ginny ran in for the sword, and Luna listened at the door. While she listened, her eyes roved over the portraits. Their oily eyes were fixed on Ginny as she lifted the Sword of Godric Gryffindor from its display.

“Breaking and entering!” one portrait shouted. “In the Headmaster’s office!”

“Put that sword back, child,” Dilys Derwent said in a kinder voice. “I’m sure you mean well, but —”

“Thievery!” Phineas Nigellus Black shrieked at her. “Unheard of! In my time —”

“Treachery!” one woman with a thick wand shouted.

“You’re the traitors!” Ginny shouted back at them. “Letting Snape in here — helping him — and after what he did to Dumbledore!”

She broke off and stared at Dumbledore’s portrait. It’s gold frame glistened, and the impression of Dumbledore stared back at her, as still and as unmoving as any Muggle portrait.

Luna abandoned her post at the door and came to Ginny’s side. She stared at Dumbledore’s portrait and felt her heart grow heavy, the way it did each time she passed her mother’s office in the basement of their family home.

“Ginny,” she whispered, “we should go. You can’t argue with what’s been done.”

“It isn’t fair.” Ginny turned her fierce glare on all the portraits, then back onto Dumbledore’s still portrait. “You know what the sword is for, what it can do. Tell them.”

The portrait did not so much as blink at her.

“Ginny.” Luna tugged on her arm.

Ginny’s lower lip trembled, and she turned away from Dumbledore’s portrait. Luna pulled her towards the door, but froze on the first step.

Ginny heard it too — footsteps coming up for them.

They backed into the office, but there was nowhere to go, nowhere to run as Snape and the Carrows burst into the office. Ginny brandished the sword as she might a wand for a duel. Luna did not have time to reach for her wand as Amycus Carrow thrust Neville at her. He fell into her and she staggered under his weight.

“You two,” Alecto Carrow sneered, “are supposed to be in the hospital wing.”

“Oh, but I feel much better,” Luna said. Neville only groaned.

“How’d you find us?” Ginny snapped.

“Hogwarts is a castle filled with portraits, Miss Weasley. I think you can figure out the rest.” Snape waved his wand and Ginny jumped as if the sword had burned her. It clattered to the ground and she clutched her hand to her chest.

“I thought,” Snape drawled, “I asked you two to control these children.”

“We did —” Amycus protested. “We have — she was just in the Hall, I swear.”

“I think a detention in the Forbidden Forest ought to teach them a lesson or two. Every night for the next week. From sundown to midnight.”

Luna tipped her head to one side. “But —”

Ginny squeezed her wrist and she stopped talking.

But that meant they would be with Hagrid instead of at Muggle Studies lessons. She wondered if Snape just didn’t realise when Muggle Studies lessons were. Did he think they were during normal lesson hours?

“And what if they try it again?” the Carrows asked.

Snape removed his cloak and pulled out a smudged piece of parchment from his pocket. “I expect you’ll prevent them from trying again.” He glanced at the sword on the floor. “I’ll have it removed from Hogwarts, then this will no longer be a problem.”

As he tucked the parchment into a book on his desk, Luna was certain that the smudge of ink was actually a small black pawprint. She supposed if Snape was a vampire, he must have a familiar by now.

Snape took a seat at his desk and surveyed the small crowd in his office. “Well? Is there a reason you’re all still here?”

The Carrows shoved Ginny towards the door, and Luna helped Neville limp down the stairs.

“Yes, I know,” she heard Snape say as the door closed. “I can have a duplicate ready in days.”

And as the latch on the door clicked, Luna thought that she heard the familiar rumble of Dumbledore’s voice.

—————————— ✶✶✶ ——————————

It was midnight, but no one was keen on heading back to the castle just yet. Ginny sat down in the grass and leaned against one of the trees on the edge of the forest, still in view of Hagrid’s hut, but away from where Neville was helping Hagrid pick Moondew for Madam Rosmerta’s Butterbeer.

Luna crouched down beside her.

“Do you think the Carrows will come and collect us?” Ginny asked. “Or could we stay out here all night?”

Luna ran her hand over the trunk of the tree. She loved the transition from the soft moss to the rough bark and back again.

“It’s just so empty in the common room,” Ginny said. “Is it like that in Ravenclaw?”

Luna crossed her legs and folded her hands in her lap. She thought for a moment. “A bit. Terry Boot never came back. Mandy checks for his name in the paper every day. Anthony Goldstein wasn’t a Muggle-born, but his family left for Canada after Dumbledore’s funeral, and they don’t plan to come back any time soon.” She plucked a small dandelion flower from the grass by her knee. “I expect it’s worst in Hufflepuff.”

Ginny folded her arms over her chest and looked up at the stars over Hagrid’s hut. “I miss him, Luna. I miss him so much, but when we talk it’s like he isn’t there. And I — I know you probably don’t want to hear it — I’m sorry — but I don’t know that I have anyone else —”

Luna reached for another dandelion and folded the stems into the beginning of a flower chain. “I will never take half of you,” Luna said, “and I don’t believe that you are one to give halves.”

Ginny’s laugh was sad. It made Luna’s chest ache. She leaned against Ginny and continued working on her flower chain.

They sat in silence, until nearly two, when Hagrid insisted they return to their bunks.

“I’ll walk yeh ter the castle,” he said, “but don’ let Filch catch you on your way up.”

Neville waved the map. “We’ll be alright. As long as any portraits don’t get involved.”

Luna tied off the flower chain into a crown and stood. She spun in a circle and dropped the circlet on Ginny’s head. “Up we go,” she said, holding her hand out to Ginny.

Ginny took it. “Thanks, Luna.”

Luna smiled. She pulled Ginny along and hurried to catch up with Neville. She took his hand as well.

Luna hated Hogwarts, and she had no desire to go back behind those high stone walls, but at least she did not have to go alone. At least she could go with friends.

[captainjanegay]

Where I’m Meant to Be | Stucky | Meet-Cute, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Kid Fic, No powers AU | Chapter 1 | 4.6k words | Ao3

Summary:

Bucky is a single dad coming back from a work trip with a very bored, very whiney 7-year-old girl. A mysterious stranger with a kind heart and a notebook full of doodles comes to the rescue.

A/N: This fic was supposed to be just a short one-shot for the Stucky Bingo but somehow, it's at 11k at this point and it's nowhere near done. I have two more chapters all done and ready and a vague outline for the rest of the story. It's my first time posting a fic chapter by chapter so it's both exciting and kinda scary. I hope you'll like the story enough to stick with me for a while. 

My sixth fill for the @stuckybingo2020​ ♥

.

At some point in his life Bucky didn't mind spending hours at airports and he found traveling —even work-related —quite enjoyable. But that was when he was young, stupid and alone. Now he's older, just as stupid and has a wonderful girl in his life. 

The girl in question is now standing next to him, little arms crossed and a sullen expression on her face. She's repeatedly kicking at the leg of the chair he's sitting on. There's no real force to it —she's only 7 after all —and she's not doing it to do any real damage to anyone or anything. It's just little taps, really and she's doing it out of boredom. But dear lord, Bucky's about to explode.

"Alex, sweetheart," Bucky says, slowly breathing out through his nose. "Could you please stop with that kicking? It's a bit annoying."

"But papa," she whines, drawling out the word. "I'm bored!"

"I know, love and I'm really sorry but papa’s gotta do something important for work," he sighs, trying to run a hand through her hair. She ducks and flops onto the chair next to him, an angry little pout on her face. "I have to finish it before we go on the plane. I'll do it as quickly as possible and then I'll be all yours, ok?"

It's not really surprising when he doesn't get an answer. With another sigh, he leans to the side and presses a kiss to the top of his daughter's head and then turns back to his laptop. 

From the very moment she woke up today, Bucky knew it's gonna be a long day. She was cranky and teary all morning, not wanting to say goodbye to Natasha and it took a good hour to calm her down. Then Bucky had to basically beg her to eat something before they left for the airport. It wasn't a great day. And Bucky knew she didn't do it just to make him miserable, she was just as frustrated and tired as he was. On top of that, he has to edit and upload a report from the conference and the airport Wi-Fi is so bad Bucky is close to tears himself.

The work would probably take less time if he wasn't getting distracted every minute or so and glancing to the side, making sure that Alex is fine. Or relatively fine, the bad mood excluded. At the moment she is slouching on the plastic chair, still pouting. Felicia—a pink stuffed Triceratops —is placed on her lap so at least Alex has something to occupy her for a moment.

Bucky tries his best to get through the documents quickly but he doesn't want to miss any errors either. He gets lost in the work for the entirety of about five minutes when he hears something truly surprising.

Alex laughs. It’s so unexpected after what seems like hours of complaining, crying and whining that Bucky’s head snaps up from his laptop and he looks at his daughter.

She is still sitting by his side, Felicia pressed closely to her chest and there is a smile on her face. It’s definitely not aimed at Bucky, though. So Bucky follows her line of sight and… oh.

It’s not like he didn’t notice the guy sitting across from them before. Because he did. It would be rather impossible not to notice this guy. He is tall and well-built and could look intimidating if it wasn’t for his bright blue eyes or tousled golden hair or the gentle smile or the fact that he’s wearing the softest beige sweater Bucky has ever seen. He is both ridiculously handsome and cute at the same time. So of course, Bucky noticed him before. But now he tries to figure out what about him made Alex laugh. It doesn’t take long, because the man is holding up his notebook, showing the page to Alex.

On the page are three little, cartoon-like doodles. The first one at the top looks unmistakably like Alex—her brows are furrowed, arms crossed and a little storm cloud is hovering above her. Underneath there’s his daughter again but this time she’s laughing, her eyes only small slits and a little sun peeks from behind the cloud. The last drawing, just next to the smiling Alex, is of Bucky. His head is partly hidden behind a laptop screen and there’s a look of utter concentration on his face. Above his cartoon persona floats a swarm of little gears, question marks and lightbulbs. Bucky snorts. It’s probably quite accurate.

Noticing that Bucky is staring at the drawing, the stranger startles and his cheeks turn red.

“I’m not some creep, I promise!” he starts explaining himself, before Bucky even opens his mouth. “I just—she seemed so upset and I’ve heard you said you have something important to do so I just wanted—Man, it’s weird, isn’t it? I’m sorry I promise I just wanted to help, not bug your kid without permission.”

“It’s not—,” Bucky starts, slightly taken aback. “It’s very sweet of you, actually. Thank you. Really, that’s just—I don’t mind. And Alex here seems to enjoy your drawings.” Bucky smiles down at his daughter and then at the stranger. His smile falters a bit and he sighs. “I’d really love to chat some more but I really need to get this shit done and the airport Wi-Fi is truly horrible.”

“Oh! Bad word!” Alex gasps, covering Bucky’s mouth with her little hand. “You said a bad word! No sweets for you!”

The stranger laughs at that and Bucky probably shouldn’t be as charmed as he feels right now. He just kisses Alex's hand and leans away from it.

“OK, sweetheart. Promise not to eat any when we get home,” he says solemnly. “But papa really needs to work a little longer, OK? Ten more minutes, I promise. Try not to bother the nice man too much until then, yeah?”

She lets a long-suffering sigh but she agrees.

“I’m Steve, by the way,” the man says, smiling at Bucky. 

Before he gets the chance to answer, Alex chimes in, “I’m Alexandra. And papa’s name is James but only mama and people at work call him that. Everyone calls him Bucky.”

The man — Steve — lets out a small laugh. “It’s nice to meet you both. Alexandra, do you want me to draw you something specific, while we let your papa work?”

“Oh, can you draw Felicia? She’s a...,” Alex furrows her brows in concentration, “tri-ce-ra-tops! That’s a dinosaur!” 

Steve leans forward from his chair and smiles at her. “She’s so cool! But weren’t dinosaurs kinda dangerous?”

“Some of them, yeah. They ate other dinosaurs. But the ones like Felicia only ate plants, so she’s cool.”

Steve lets out an attentive hum but something in his expression tells Bucky that it’s not new information for him and he’s just indulging Alex and letting her share what she knows. It makes Bucky feel a wave of sympathy towards this Steve guy.

Soon enough, a new page of Steve’s notebook gets covered with doodles of various dinosaurs, based on Alex’s jurassic knowledge��it’s a bit flawed, but Bucky is proud of her nonetheless.

It takes Bucky a few moments to stop sending glances towards the two. It’s partly because Steve—no matter how sweet he seems to be—is still a stranger. Steve might be bigger than him, but Bucky would end him if he tried to do anything to his little girl. But there are no red lights when it comes to Steve—and Bucky always prided himself on his ability to read people.

The other thing making it hard to go back to work is the fact that the scene he’s looking at is quite an adorable one. Both Alex and Steve are sitting at the edges of their seats, leaning over the passage between the two rows of chairs and their eyes are fixed on the notebook propped on Steve’s knee. They’re chatting, exchanging random facts about dinosaurs but since their knowledge is limited, they switch to talking about modern animals soon enough. Steve listens intently to whatever Alex has to say without patronising her. And sadly, Bucky has met a fair share of adults for whom it was impossible to take Alex seriously just because she was a kid. It calms Bucky enough to actually focus on his work for a little longer.

Some peace of mind does wonders for his concentration and the ten minutes he promised Alex are actually enough for him to finish editing the reports. The WiFi is still a bitch, though. However, after staring at the loading circle for what feels like an eternity, he is able to send the documents. With a triumphant little cheer, he turns off the laptop and slides it back into his bag.

Steve looks up at him and smiles. Alex completely ignores him, though, still too focused on whatever Steve was drawing. Bucky feels a bit betrayed. When she looks up, she glances at Steve first, probably to ask why the drawing has stopped and turns to Bucky when she notices Steve looking his way.

“Oh, you’ve finished the work, daddy?” she asks and when he nods, she smiles and reaches to wrap her arms around his neck. “It took you some time. But I’m proud of you.”

Bucky laughs at that, shaking his head slightly, “Thank you, sunshine. I see you were having fun with Steve while I was busy?”

“Yeah! Steve drawings are so pretty! He drew you riding a dinosaur!” Alex giggles, pointing at one of the little drawings.

Raising his brows, Bucky sends Steve a questioning look but the other man just shrugs and rubs at his neck. “It was her idea,” he says with a sheepish smile.

The doodle Alex is pointing at is indeed of him sitting on a dinosaur's back. It’s the one with the long, giraffe-like neck, Brachiosaurus if he remembers correctly. The cartoon Bucky’s arms are wrapped around the base of the reptile’s neck, his hair fluttering behind him and his mouth is open in either a big smile or a scream, he’s not sure. Either way, it’s a very cute drawing.

“Well,” Bucky says. “I’m not a fan of horses but I’d totally ride a dinosaur if I had a chance. Shouldn’t he have a saddle, though?”

It’s not even that funny but Steve still laughs and Bucky smiles at that. His daughter is less impressed or at least tries to appear so. She rolls her eyes but there’s a grin on her face.

“You’re so silly, daddy. They didn’t have saddles back then! And besides you’d need a very, very big one for a dinosaur!”

Bucky hums in agreement and looks up at the departure display. Noticing that their flight’s gate is open, he nudges Alex lightly.

“We gotta go, sweetheart,” he says. She perks up a bit but then glances at Steve with a small pout. “Sadly, we have to say goodbye to Steve. On the bright side, we’re gonna be home soon, yeah?”

Alex nods and slides off her chair. Steve looks up at the display and straightens up.

“Oh, my flight’s boarding, too. But you know what?” Steve asks and then rips the page with all the dinosaur doodles and holds it out to Alex. “You should keep this, if you want.”

Hearing this, Alex’s whole face lights up and she takes the drawings with gentle hands, as if afraid to mess it up. “Thank you, Steve! Those are so cool I’m gonna keep them forever!”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Steve smiles. He looks up at Bucky. “It was nice to meet you, guys.”

“Likewise. Thank you again for the help. It was very nice of you,” Bucky says sincerely.

“It was my pleasure. My knowledge about dinosaurs is so much better now,” Steve’s smile grows even bigger and Bucky chuckles.

Bucky leans to help Alex put on her little backpack, since she refuses to put down the drawing and then reaches for his bag. He rests his hand on his daughter’s back and turns to Steve one last time. He’s still sitting at the edge of his seat and is watching them. A smile is still plastered to his face and at this point Bucky is sure that it’s his default setting.

“Bye, Steve. Have a safe flight,” Bucky says.

“Bye, Steve. Thank you for the dinosaurs,” Alex adds, making Steve laugh.

“You are very welcome, Alexandra,” he says. “Have a nice day, guys.”

Bucky gently steers Alex towards their gate. Before they disappear behind the corner, he turns away to look at Steve one more time. The man is already looking back and he waves at them when he notices Bucky staring. Alex waves back enthusiastically and Bucky just ducks his head, feeling flustered all of sudden. He used to be more collected around nice, attractive people. And Steve definitely qualifies as both.

***

Some time later they finally make it to the plane. Alex flops down onto the middle seat and eventually — after a long discussion and promises that he won’t ruin it — she lets Bucky put the drawings she got from Steve into the folder he keeps his documents in. When the treasure is safely put away Bucky straightens to put his bag in the overhead compartment.

“Oh,” he hears a voice behind his back and a low chuckle quickly follows. “Fancy bumping into you here.”

Bucky looks over his shoulder and the surprise makes him try to close the compartment while his other hand is still holding the bag. He yelps in pain, making Alex look up.

“Steve!” she says with a smile, completely ignoring her father’s distress.

“Hello again, Alexandra,” Steve shoots her a quick smile and looks at Bucky, concerned. “You’re OK? I didn’t want to spook you.”

Man, he really got bad at keeping his cool around attractive people. Feeling a blush creep up his neck, Bucky nods. “No, no, you didn’t. I’m just a clutz, this happens a lot, ignore me.”

Steve raises an eyebrow at him but he doesn’t say anything more. For a moment they just stand in the narrow aisle, looking at each other. Finally, Bucky’s ability to think kicks back in and he moves to the side.

“Sorry, you probably want to get through to your seat.”

“Actually,” Steve says and glances down at the boarding pass in his hand. After checking it, he points to the seat by the window, on Alex’s other side. “That one’s mine.”

“Oh,” Bucky looks at the seat and then at Steve. His cheeks still feel warm for some reason but he hopes he's not blushing too visibly. "That's great. I'm just gonna—"

Bucky shifts to the other side and takes a step back, making room for Steve.

"You're flying with us back home?" Alex asks with a hopeful glint in her eyes. "Will you draw something more for me?"

"Alex, come on. Don't abuse Steve niceness like that," Bucky scolds her gently but before he can even finish the sentence, Steve starts shaking his head.

"It's fine, don't worry about it. I often doodle when I get bored anyway so I'd be honoured to draw for you again, Alexandra," Steve grins at her.

She actually lets out a little happy squeal when she hears that and Bucky's heart skips a beat. He's absolutely charmed by the way Steve treats his daughter. He really seems like entertaining some random little girl is the best thing he could be doing and while Bucky - absolutely objectively - thinks that Alex is the most wonderful little girl in the world, it still seems unusual. And he positively melts every time that Steve uses her full name, just because that was the way she introduced herself the first time. Most adults Bucky knows don't do that with other adults, not to mention kids. And Steve is just so… kind and genuine, it takes Bucky off guard but it's a really nice surprise.

"Ok, fine," Bucky says with a smile. "You have no idea what you've brought on yourself. Is it possible to strain your hand from drawing too much? The flight's almost two hours, right?"

"Does your dad always complain this much?" Steve asks Alex and she giggles in response. He sends Bucky a glance over her head and he has a smirk on his face. Ignoring Bucky again, he says to Alex, "Hey, have you ever watched Sesame Street? There was this one grouchy green guy."

Bucky just sends him his most unimpressed look. Steve doesn't seem affected. Alex is delighted. And in truth, Bucky has to bite the inside of his cheek to contain a smile.

It turns out that on top of being nice and lovely, Steve is also a little shit, because he draws a Bucky-version of Oscar the Grouch - with a grumpy expression and wild hair, sitting in a garbage can. It's actually amazing. Bucky doesn't say that out loud, but he snorts when he sees it, so that might betray him a little.

This time — prompted by the mention of Sesame Street — the conversation resolves mostly around animated movies. To Bucky’s surprise, it turns out that Steve is a huge Disney fan. He doesn’t even try to hide it. Not to brag but Bucky knows his way around animated movies — partly because he has a 7-year-old daughter and partly because who doesn’t like animated movies? But compared to Steve and Alex? He knows nothing. They use names he doesn’t even recognise - who or what even is Flit? Judging by Steve’s drawing it’s some kind of a bird, apparently. When Bucky can’t remember — he knows it, of course, it just slipped his mind — the name of the redheaded princess from Brave, he is given the most disdainful look he’s ever seen. Both by his daughter and by Steve. Bucky still tries to participate in the conversation, at least for as much as they let him. He never expected his own daughter to team up with some stranger against him. It hurts.

The pain is all forgotten when Steve and Alex start quietly singing Under the Sea from The Little Mermaid together. Bucky can’t help a laugh that bubbles from his chest at the sight. How is Steve even real, Bucky has no idea. He is over six feet of muscle, his bicep is bigger than Alex's head and he could probably bench press Bucky and here he is, sitting next to Bucky’s little girl, drawing a picture of Megara, because she’s his favourite Disney princess and singing a song from The Little Mermaid.

This guy can’t be real.

About half an hour into the flight it turns out that Bucky was wrong — Alex does leave Steve alone but it’s only because the tiredness catches up to her and she falls asleep. And she’s sleeping with her head resting on Steve’s arm. It’s a really nice arm, Bucky has to admit, a nap on such an arm would be good and comfortable even for him, probably. But that doesn’t change the fact that he feels left out.

“Sorry,” Bucky says quietly. “You probably want your arm back, I can just—”

He offers to move Alex’s sleeping body but Steve just shrugs with his free arm, careful not to jostle the girl.

“Don't want to wake her and I really don't mind," Steve says, smiling at Bucky.

"You sure?" Bucky asks and after getting a nod in confirmation, he chuckles and shakes his head. “I keep trying to figure out where the catch is but I’ve got nothing. You’re just naturally this kind, aren’t you?”

Steve barks out a laugh and then slaps his hand over his mouth to quiet the noise. He looks down to make sure he didn’t wake Alex.

“Oh there’s plenty wrong with me,” Steve says with a chuckle. “For one I’m usually really awkward around kids. Alexandra’s such a great girl, though. But I do like to help and try to be nice whenever I can.”

Bucky narrows his eyes at Steve. “You think you’d side-track me by complimenting my daughter? You’re totally right, but that doesn’t mean I’m not curious.”

With an exaggerated eye roll, Steve makes the ‘bring it’ gesture and grins. “Come on. Hit me with your best guesses.”

“OK. OK, fine,” Bucky says and shifts in his seat so he can look at Steve more directly. Crossing his arms, he asks, “Do I have a limited number of guesses?”

“It’s not that long of a flight,” Steve shrugs with one shoulder, grin still in place.

In a theatrically thoughtful gesture Bucky strokes his chin gauging Steve with his eyes.

“You… secretly work as a hitman” Bucky says slowly, “or like, an underwear model. Which is not a bad thing to do.”

A blush creeps up Steve’s cheeks as he laughs again. “Those are… pretty far off. Why those two?”

“Well, you’re built appropriately for both from what I can see,” Bucky explains, enjoying the way Steve cheeks go darker. Maybe he’s not so helpless at talking to attractive people as he thought. It feels a whole lot like flirting.

That terrifies him for a moment. He didn't do flirting in what feels like ages. He doesn't have time for this. Should he even do this? He has a daughter, he shouldn’t just—

Bucky takes a deep breath and smacks himself mentally across the head. He’s not doing anything bad. He’s just talking and having fun with an attractive stranger. Maybe even flirting a bit. And that’s OK, this is allowed, he doesn’t have to go anywhere else with that. It’s not like he’s ever going to see the guy again, anyway. Natasha would punch him for denying himself that. So he will make sure not to mention it the next time they talk.

“Well…,” Steve rubs the back of his neck. “I am not. Hitman or— I’m neither of those. I’m actually an illustrator. Mostly freelance stuff. I paint sometimes, too. But that’s mostly for fun.”

“OK, fine. Somehow I can believe that. You seem like an artsy type,” Bucky agrees.

“No hitman vibes anymore?”

“Who says a hitman can’t enjoy painting in his free time?”

Steve laughs, throwing his head back. Somehow he manages to keep the left side of his body completely still, mindful of Alex sleeping on him.

“I don’t know if there’s a point in trying to convince you, but I’m really not.”

“Sure. Probably what a hitman would say,” Bucky waves a hand at him but smiles. “That’s cool though. Being able to get paid for doing what you love.”

“It is. Sometimes you get frustrated enough to hate it but it’s still pretty cool,” Steve agrees. “You don’t like your job?”

Bucky scrunches his nose, making a non-committal sound as he tries to find the best way to explain. “It’s not that I don’t like it. It’s fun. Interesting, exciting, sometimes frustrating as hell, too. And the responsibility can be incredibly stressful. It’s just…  I never took time to think about what I really like doing in life. And since the job was good enough, I just stuck with it.”

Steve hums, nodding along to Bucky's words. "It's never too late to figure it out, you know?" he says. "I mean, I don't wanna impose and tell you how to live your life or anything. I'd never. I just— I think it's an important thing to know."

"You might be right," Bucky agrees. He glances down at Alex. "I don't think it's a good time for me to experiment, you know? Besides — if there's one thing I know for sure that I like it's having this little rascal around."

The smile on Steve's face turns soft. But only for a moment, before it turns back into that smirk he had earlier. "Any guesses left? About my dark side?"

"A few," Bucky grins. 

It's a bit of a lie because he really struggles to see Steve as anything but perfect but he can try. It's just a game they're playing to kill time after all.

"You are that kind of guy who can eat garbage food and not move a finger and still look like you've just walked straight out of a gym. I hate those people. It's so unfair."

"Are all of your guesses based on how I look? I kind of see a pattern here so far."

Bucky opens his mouth to protest but there's something in the way Steve looks at him, with a raised eyebrow and one corner of his mouth quirked up that makes him close his mouth without a word. He might be blushing. Maybe he's being too forward. It's probably not appropriate to talk about a stranger's body this much.

Before he gets the chance to apologize, Steve answers, "And you're wrong, again. I like working out. Takes my mind off things, helps me clear my head when I need that. Besides I used to be small and sickly my whole childhood. Couldn't even play with other kids for too long without getting an asthma attack. So I'm kinda compensating for that," he jokes.

"Really?"

"Yeah. All pointy elbows and bony knees."

"Huh," Bucky says. "Bet you looked way cuter than me when I had my bowl cut. We all had our dark moments."

Steve laughs again and Bucky really enjoys the sound of that. He really enjoys Steve's company in general, which is weird considering they've just met. It usually takes him much more time to get comfortable around people. Maybe it's the fact that they'll go their separate ways as soon as the plane lands makes it all easier.

"I'm kinda disappointed, you know?" Steve starts after a moment. "I thought you'd guess at least once. Or at least would be more creative with those."

"Who says I'm done? It was all on purpose, I was just assessing, gathering intel. I'm a scientist, I don't know if I've mentioned that before," Bucky points a finger at Steve. "You've got to be methodical about stuff."

Raising his hands in surrender, Steve tries to keep a straight face. He fails miserably.

"I wanted to say that you secretly hate dogs or cats but that would be just too harsh," Bucky says. "I don't think you're a monster."

"I love dogs," Steve confirms. "Always wanted to get one but my flat's too small and I doubt that'd be good for a dog. I don't have anything against cats but I feel like they don't… like me that much."

Bucky chuckles. "I feel like there's a story there."

"Just— My friend Sam has a cat and she absolutely hates me. I can't leave my phone on the table cause she pushes it off, but she doesn't touch Sam's. Every time I'm there she follows me around and hisses at me for no reason. She peed in my shoe more than once," Steve says and tries to look hurt when Bucky starts laughing. "It's not funny! I haven't done anything to deserve this. I tried to bribe her with food, I tried to pet her but I only got scratched for my efforts. And she doesn't do that with anyone but me."

"So that's your dark secret? That your nemesis is a cat?" Bucky asks with a grin.

"It's… definitely true."

“Can’t say I’ve seen that one coming,” Bucky laughs.

Steve shrugs with one arm. “I’m full of surprises.”

Clearly, Bucky thinks, shaking his head at the other man.

.

Title: Wrap me up (in your love) Creator(s): niallhoranbitches Card number: 065 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27745402/chapters/67911988 Square filled: B2 - Airport Rating: Teen and Up Archive warnings: None Major tags: Meet-Cute, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Kid Fic, No powers AU Summary: Bucky is a single dad coming back from a work trip with a very bored, very whiney 7-year-old girl. A mysterious stranger with a kind heart and a notebook full of doodles comes to the rescue. Word count: 4591 

[aricazorel]

N7 Month prompts--Day 25 Lost

(a 15 year-old Kori deals with the loss of her colony and her parents)

2169, outside Atlanta, Georgia, Earth, Sol System

Lost. That was what she felt. There was no other explanation, no other word for what she was feeling. But it wasn’t just a feeling; it was a state of being.

Just a few short weeks ago, 15-year-old Kora Reese had lost her home, her family, everything she thought she knew. A ship not following quarantine procedures had blown up in the upper atmosphere of her colony. The eezo in the drive core had disbursed throughout the colony’s atmosphere, infusing the air with super high levels of eezo. On any other colony, the result might not have been so bad, but on Moirae there was a reason element zero had to travel through the atmosphere in such careful fashion.

Moirae was a planet that had been terraformed using the Destiny Plan. This technique involved using specialized nanites to convert the toxic atmosphere into a breathable one. One draw back was that they did not react well with eezo, hence the quarantine requirements. When the unshielded drive core blew, it supercharged the nanites resulting in the colonists being exposed to deadly levels of eezo. The except to that was a handful of teens roughly in her age range that had survived. Everyone else perished, including her parents.

As she looked out the window of the room her grandmother had given her, Kora looked out over the rolling hills and woods that surrounded the house. The room had once belonged to her mother. Now it was hers. It still didn’t feel like home. She wondered if it ever would. She loved her Gran but it wasn’t the same…

“Kora? You have a visitor,” a soft female voice called from the doorway. It was her grandmother. She had been giving her space and was always nearby if needed.

“Who? I don’t wanna answer any more stupid questions about mom and dad’s work,” the teen protested angrily. “It wasn’t their fault the colony…Just because they came up with the nanites, that doesn’t make it their fault.”

“And it’s not,” a deep male voice confirmed.

Reese turned around to see a tall man wearing Alliance BDU’s standing beside her grandmother. It was Commander Anderson, the one who had lead the mission to Moirae. The man who hadn’t been afraid of her and the other survivors.

Her grandmother said, “I’ll leave you two alone. I’m sure there are somethings you need to discuss. But Kora, remember you are never truly lost as long as someone remembers

who you are.”

Kora frowned as her gran left, leaving the Commander to gaze at her and then around her round. “May I come in?”

She nodded as he stepped into her room and closed the door. “I—I thought you’d be on the Hastings—”

“I was, but I have an ungodly amount of shore leave built up and decided to spend some of it,” Anderson explained as he moved to stand beside her in front of the window.

“And you come here?”

“Yes. Is that a problem?”

“It is if you are just gonna do what everyone else has and feel sorry for me and tell me all this will go away and—”

“It won’t go away. Not completely,” Anderson corrected her. “It will fade. It will hurt less. But it will always still be there.”

Kora looked at him with narrowed eyes. “So you’re not here to coddle me? Then you must be here to get more info about my parents—”

“Drs. Connor and Rayne Reese were the foremost authorities in terraforming nanite technology. They were the masterminds behind the Destiny Plan and the settling of Moirae,” Anderson interrupted. “Nothing I have found has led me to believe they would have anything to do with the destruction of that same colony. They are the one’s that instituted the quarantine protocols for eezo to begin with. They were working on safer ways to transport it as well.”

“You—You believe that?”

The Commander nodded. “Don’t you?”

“I—Yes,” she said as she lowered her eyes. It wasn’t her parents’ fault, but someone still caused it.

“Then believe my when I tell you, there is a third party working responsible,” Anderson said. “They are interested in what eezo exposure results in.”

“Biotics,” Kora muttered as she raised her hand, a faint purple glow emanating from it.

“I’m afraid so,” he said. “You’re a smart kid. I’ve looked at your test scores and your academics. You were actually starting to help you parents in their lab…I thought you should know that all the other survivors have begun to exhibit biotics as well…Apparently, all of you are second exposure…It means—”

“We were all exposed earlier somehow and just didn’t know it,” she finished.

He nodded. “You’ll eventually be told through official channels but because of your…unique connection to all this I thought you should know first.”

She nodded. Yep. Lost was a good word. Lost everything including being normal. She looked up. “Why are you really here?”

“To check on the kid who kept a level head during the whole thing. The kid you found all the survivors and coordinated efforts to gather them in one place, to keep them safe until help arrived,” Anderson said. “To check on the kid who stared down a marine detachment and yelled at them to help or get out of the way.”

“Well, they were just standing there,” Kora murmured, “Looking stupid.”

“I suppose they did,” he agreed. “We weren’t expecting to just find teens and well coordinated ones at that…”

“I never thanked you,” she replied. “I mean, you were the one who didn’t treat us like…freaks.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” Anderson said. “But if you feel the need to, all I want is for you not to let this mark you. You’re a smart kid. You’ve got a lot of potential. Use it. Make your parents proud. And maybe that Gran of yours too.”

“I don’t know how…”

“You’ll figure it out,” he said handing her a contact card. “If you ever need anything, call me.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“But why—”

“You’re Gran said it best: you’re never really lost as long as someone remember who you are.”

[misssunflowersandsangria]

Roses

Chapter 5: Orange Roses 

Welcome back, my beautiful readers!  We're sprinting towards the finish line.   There's a scene that gets a little spicy in the middle but nothing explicit...yet!  Hope you enjoy it! 

Summary: He would always have her first kiss. 

Orange Roses: Orange roses evoke energy, and can indicate enthusiasm, desire and excitement. Giving orange roses can symbolize your passionate romance and share your excitement of the relationship with your loved one.

Flashback

“Stupid Forehead!”  Sai looked up from his painting watching as Ino paced back and forth in his room. Danzo had been working him like a dog for some art gallery. He missed his girl and was thankful that he wouldn’t be home till tomorrow. 

“Sakura?”

“No, she’s Forehead right now.” 

He didn’t quite get their relationship. He knew that at the core they were friends but times like this made it seem like they were enemies more than anything else. 

“Okay, what did Forehead do?” He asked after she placed her head in his lap. 

“She kept going on about her first kiss with Sasuke. Blech. Then she started saying that no one will ever want to kiss me.”  He nodded sympathetically his fingers threading through her hair. They were way too competitive.

Surprising him she sat up on her knees sending him a look he knew all too well.  She wanted something and damn if he didn’t already know that he’d do whatever she wanted. 

“I’m going to ask you something and I want you to keep an open mind.”

“What?”

“Kiss me.”

“What?  If this is just to compete with Sakura that’s a pretty stupid reason.”  Did she realize what she was asking him to do? 

She looked away shaking her shoulders. “No, I just, well I want to know what it’s like ya know.  You’re my best friend and I trust you. Who else could I ask? It’s just a kiss.”

He had to.  He knew it wasn’t the best idea but he hated the idea that someone else would have her first kiss. “Fine.” Her eyes fell closed and he took a deep breath before softly placing his lips on hers. It was far too sweet and innocent, a product of youth and lack of experience. Yet Sai didn’t know if he’d ever been happier. He was kissing Ino.  It was a dream of his that he always kept closely guarded. 

They separated and her cheeks were flushed a beautiful pink while they smiled at one another. 

“Sai...I’ve been wanting to tell you something.”

He was surprised, she usually told him everything. “What is it?”

“I uhm well I’ve felt this for a while. I-“ A piercing ring shattered the moment bringing them back to Earth. 

“Damn it, it’s my dad. I was supposed to go straight home.”

Sai nodded in understanding but disappointed that she didn’t finish what she was going to tell him. 

“Thanks, Sai, you’re the best. I love you.” She grinned at his blush waiting for his response. Ever since they were little she’d taken it upon herself to remind him that he was loved and never let him get away with not saying it in return. 

“Love you too Ino.” 

Ino walked out of there with a smile still on her face. Take that Sakura! Her kiss with Sai was more than she could have hoped for and gave her the push she needed. She was ready to tell him how she felt. Tomorrow would be the day. 

Little did they both know that she’d have to wait years to get that chance. 

End Flashback

Sai rushed to class annoyed and upset.  He had meetings all morning regarding the last minute details for the gallery opening.  This was his first show not under the watchful eye of Danzo and it was more work than he anticipated.  He hated the business side of the art world.  All he wanted to do was create but this was a necessary evil to keep his name relevant. 

Thankfully he made it with just enough minutes to load his presentation.  He looked over towards his class.  Ino was in her usual spot towards the back of the room but this time her space was being invaded by one of her male classmates.  Sai felt himself digging his fingernails into his palm especially as he heard her laugh.  He knew that it was wrong to be annoyed. It was good that she was getting to know her classmates and yet the irrational side of him was winning.  While they continued to talk after dinner at the Yamanaka home neither was ready to discuss what their kiss at the doorway meant.  

“Let’s begin please.”  Fortunately, it worked well enough that he cut their conversation short.  

“Please look at the painting projected on the board.  It was discussed in last week’s readings.  Respond to the question below and turn it in.  You have 20 minutes.”  He knew that he was taking his poor attitude out on his class but he was far too annoyed by a million different things to care.  Perhaps if he knew where they stood, that she wanted to be with him just as much, maybe then he wouldn’t be so prone to jealousy. 

Once everyone turned in their quick write he launched into the content.  It was more dry and boring but right now he needed that kind of material.  For today he just needed to get through the class.

*

**

“Why were you being such a jerk during class?”  Sai looked up seeing Ino storm into his office. 

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”  He replied returning his eyes to the form he was reading over.  He wished that she had skipped office hours today.  He wasn’t quite ready to stop being upset. 

She moved so that she was directly in front of him.  “Stop pretending like I don’t know you.  What’s wrong?”  It felt like they had taken such a huge leap forward and now he was pulling away from her again.   

His mix of emotions came roaring back.  “Can you really not see how this is your fault? 

“How is this my fault?”

“Why would you wait so long to take a freshman art class?”  Jealousy and uncertainty was fueling him.   Even as he was saying it he knew how ridiculous it sounded.  If she had taken the class sooner they wouldn’t be in this situation. At least that’s what he’d been trying to convince himself of. 

She stood there stunned by the accusation. Fine, if this is how he wanted it to go down. “Because art took you away from me!  I did everything I could to avoid it as ridiculous as that might sound!” Sai stood there shell shocked as she broke into tears. 

“Do you know how hard that was? Everyone was so proud of you and impressed by your accomplishments but I had to stand there and pretend that I wasn’t devastated.  Chouji and Shikamaru had to stop me from burning all your drawings. I know that you had to go and you didn’t have a choice.  You had to follow your dreams but why couldn’t I have been a part of it?” She sobbed each teardrop creating cracks in his heart. He placed her face between his hands capturing her tears as they fell. 

“No Ino, you’re my dream. You always have been. If I knew then what I know now, how much it hurt you I would have never left. I would have stayed here with you and we could have been so happy.  I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry.”  He whispered regrets into her hair. 

“No, I don’t want an apology.  You didn’t do anything wrong. I just...Fuck. I just want my Sai back, I want my best friend, not the famous artist or my professor. I want the person that held me during a thunderstorm, hid drawings in my notebooks and gave me my first kiss.  It’s you, it always has been.”  With no more of an invitation, he had her pinned against the wall his lips hot and heavy against hers as she pushed his blazer from his shoulders. 

“Do you know how many times I wanted to fucking pin you against this wall?” He breathed as she continued to run her hands under his shirt.

She grinned her blue eyes beaming. “I’m here now. What are you going to do about it?” 

His lips devoured hers hungrily using the weight of his body to keep her up while his hands explored, touched and caressed her skin. Ino arched into him wanting to feel him against her.  Her legs tightened around him trying to bring him closer. 

His lips shifted to her neck kissing patterns all over her. The possessive side of him not caring if he left a mark. The smell of roses radiated from her skin. 

“Sai…” He shuddered hearing his name on her petal-soft lips. 

“You’re so beautiful.” He breathed his lips tracing the crown of her head. She drew his mouth back to hers wanting to cement this moment into her memory. Her fingers tried to make quick work of his shirt before he stopped them. 

He took a deep breath before placing her down safely “We can’t do this here.” 

She pouted looking up at him her arms wrapped around his waist. “Sai...don’t you want me?”  

She used that look on him a million times but this time he kissed it away. “Fuck, of course, I do beautiful girl.”  His hands went to tangle themselves in her hair bringing her forehead against his. “I’ve dreamt about this a million times, but you deserve better. This weekend let’s go away together.” 

She nodded in understanding.  Despite her disappointment, she was happy to know that he’d been dreaming about this moment just as much as she had been. She also wanted to take her time to absorb the moment without fear of someone walking in. 

“Okay.  Did you get through my journal?”

“Most of it.”  

“Before Saturday can you read my last entry. It’s what I wrote before this semester started.” 

“I will.” 

She kissed him softly her lips wanting to imprint themselves against his “Sai if I haven’t made this clear I want this. I have for a long time. I just want to finally be with you.” He pulled her into his arms holding her tightly against his chest.

“Me too Ino. Your heart is all I’ve ever wanted.”

She clutched to him and it was finally starting to settle in that this was real. They had both been pining after the other for years and now they finally had a chance to make it work. 

Roses:

Chapter 1: Roses

Chapter 2: Yellow Roses

Chapter 3: Purple Roses

Chapter 4: Pink Roses

Chapter 5: Orange Roses 

Thank you again for sticking with me!  The next chapter will get smutty. I won’t be able to post the entire chapter here because I don’t want to get flagged so I will just post a link for it. Thank you all for being so wonderful and supportive. I truly love and appreciate you all!

[athingthatwantsvirginia]

The Steinbeck Agreement

PART TWENTY-THREE OF THE DO YOU SEE HER FACE? SERIES

Pairing: Jess Mariano x Original Character (Ella Stevens)

Warnings: discussions of familial physical/emotional abuse please read with caution, serious angst, anxiety about future, plentiful pop culture references

Word Count: 6K

Summary: Ella makes some major changes in her life, and Jess reluctantly returns to town for his mother’s wedding.

The afternoon light streamed golden through the diner windows as Liz and Luke came in, Ella leaning on the counter with her sketchbook in front of her. Too enveloped in the drawing of a field of murderous daisies, Ella didn’t even register what they were talking about until she heard them mention her name.

“...maybe Ella could do it,” Liz said, tilting her head at the young woman with dark eye makeup and EAT ME printed across her shirt.

“Hm?” Ella asked, looking up from her sketch with furrowed brows.

Luke rolled his eyes at her distracted nature. Ever since she’d moved out of her childhood home, she’d been in a worse mood, focused almost solely on her terrifying drawings. He’d had to tell her a couple times to make sure to keep the sketchbook off the counter when there were children present.

“Be a flower girl,” Liz said, a big, dreamy smile on her face. She was dressed in a long, floral red dress. “Most of the Renaissance fair crowd doesn’t have small children. But if we’re gonna have a wedding, we’re gonna have a real wedding. Can’t be a wedding without a flower girl.”

“Sorry, whose wedding?” Ella asked, straightening up and raising an eyebrow.

“Mine, sweetie.” Liz had a high, wispy voice that reminded Ella of the fairies she used to imagine playing in her mother’s garden. “We’re having it right out in the square next week. It’s gonna be beautiful, all our Renaissance fair friends will be there, and it’ll have this great medieval theme! And you could be the flower girl!”

“Oh, I don’t…” Ella began with a shy smile, but Liz only waved a dismissive hand at her, continuing.

“I can loan you one of my fair dresses,” she said excitedly, not picking up on Ella’s doubtful expression.

“Yeah, Ella. You can finally perfect your whole Bride of Frankenstein look,” Luke teased. His expression was far more pleasant than Ella could have predicted. Happy. Happy, in its simplest form, looked so strange on Luke. The past few months had seen the true finalization of his divorce and his having to watch Lorelai date some rich snob from her father’s company. But the news seemed to brighten his mood inexplicably. She was sure the laughter at her expense wasn’t exactly a drag on the day either.

Rolling her eyes, Ella shot him a pointed glance. “Y’know, you would be lost without your best waitress.”

“I’m quaking in my boots. Besides, I’ve got Lane working for me now, anyway.”

Though she narrowed her eyes at him, she could think of nothing more to say. He was right. She would never quit on him. The diner was more of a home to her than anywhere else in the world. Hell, it had almost single-handedly fed her during the worst few months of her life. Along with Lorelai’s frequent feasts of junk food.

“I can just see it, Ella! It’ll be so much fun and you’d look so beautiful!” Liz exclaimed, grabbing one of Ella’s hands in a pleading gesture.

Biting the inside of her cheek, Ella did her best to protest. She still wasn’t Liz’s biggest fan, despite wherever it was that she stood with Jess. The alcohol, the neglect. But Luke seemed not entirely angry about the match, especially considering his view on TJ when the two had first been introduced back in February. And Liz’s smile was so large, so radiant. Her eyes were desperate and almost kind. Heaving a huge sigh, Ella nodded. Luke was much more than her boss. And he gave a smile so rare when she agreed. She would do it for Luke, she decided. In fact, it was the least she could do.

.   .   .

Sat on the lumpy couch in Lane’s living room, Ella found herself smiling just a touch. The band, finally named Hep Alien, was getting better with every practice. Though the room was piled high with dirty clothes and video game equipment, and it remained cluttered no matter how many times Ella tried to clean it up, she was beginning to get more comfortable. Her king mattress was so old anyway, and sleeping on the plaid couch wasn’t much different. As she had run from the only house she had ever known, she’d packed as much as she could into her station wagon, which had once been her aunt Julie’s. It wasn’t like her old room fit much anyway. Mostly, the backseat was filled with her records, books, clothes.

Loud music making her ears ring, she sketched Lane behind the drums, living the way she had always wanted. As fun as it was watching band practice nearly every night, Ella was eager for her summer classes to start. If she played her cards right, she could graduate a year early with art as a minor. Ella’s mind drifted to the night she left, the day after she finally finished her first year of college. And, over a modest celebratory dinner, the conversation had drifted, as it always did, to the future.

.   .   .

two and a half weeks earlier

Tugging with one hand at the ends of her hair, Ella felt an odd mixture of distasteful nostalgia and happiness in her stomach. The lasagna tasted exactly as her mother’s had, and Ella knew Fiona had followed the recipe, scribbled in the back of the ancient cookbook, exactly. But she would keep quiet. Fiona truly seemed proud of her, beaming and giving her a hug the moment she walked through the door after work. Slowly, very slowly, Ella was beginning to accept it, the motherly love. Though occasionally it still rubbed her the wrong way, it didn’t send her spiralling into anger and melancholy as it once had.

And it wasn’t as though Fiona was a bad person. She had a sunny disposition, glossy hair, expressive eyes. Ella could understand how her father would want to marry her. But she was just too unlike her mother. Would never understand Ella the way her mother had. It still felt like bizarro-world when Fiona tried to give her advice or compliment her on her piano skills. But she could manage dinner every once and a while, and accept pride in her academic accomplishments. She was on the Dean’s List, after all.

Adam pushed his food around his plate as he spoke. From the glances they’d shared, Ella could tell he tasted the same memories from childhood she did.

“We’ve still got about a month, but I really think we can get first place,” Adam said of his mathlete competition. His voice had gotten deeper, and he was finally growing taller. Ella could tell he would end up looking a lot like Noah.

“That’s great,” Jake said, nodding with a half-smile.

“Really is,” Fiona echoed, grinning widely.

As silence fell on the four of them, forks scraped on the Corelle plates and throats were cleared. Awkward silences had quickly become staples of family dinners. Eventually, Jake began twisting his wedding ring and looked straight at Ella, who sat at his left side. The light in the peach kitchen was bright despite the cloudy darkness outside. The May evening was humid and buzzing with cicadas.

“And what about you, Ellie?” Jake asked.

Looking up carefully, Ella put down her fork and faced him. “What about me?”

“Do you have any prospects for the summer? Besides the diner?”

She shook her head. “No. Unless Patty needs me to fill in. Might start painting more. I’m thinking a small easel would fit pretty well near the window in my room.”

Narrowing his eyes doubtfully, Jake tilted his head slightly. “I don’t know. Seems like a waste of money.”

“Why?” she asked instantly.

“We don’t have to discuss this now,” Fiona interjected patiently.

Adam looked down at his plate as he ate.

Jake breathed a frustrated sigh through his nose. “You’re majoring in history. You’re living with us for at least three more years. I don’t think now’s the time for pipe dreams.”

“Hm,” Ella nodded, giving a thin, vicious smile. “It’s funny you say that. When mom was alive, you always thought I should put as much time into my art as she put into her music.”

“You were a kid. Things change. The best you can hope for is being a history teacher at Stars Hollow High, and you have to be happy with it,” Jake explained with cold logic in his voice. His eyebrows were raised in condescension.

Ella’s cheeks heated up. “Oh, so all this time you’ve just been humoring me? Telling me I had talent?”

“Not exactly. But you’re not O’Keefe, either.”

“Never said I was,” Ella snapped, standing up from her seat. “I can't do this right now. I’m buying my fucking paint, dad.”

“Hey!” he shouted, rising from his own seat and following her as she stormed into the living room towards the hall entrance. “Don’t you use that language with me, young lady!”

“Why not?! Might as well let you know how I actually talk if you’re gonna let me know how you actually feel!” she yelled back, gesturing wildly with her hands.

Jake rolled his eyes at his only daughter. “Toughen up, Ellie! You’ve only got so much time on this earth and I’m not gonna watch you waste it on your doodles!”

“Oh, and lecturing about the revolutionary war in the town where I’ve always lived wouldn’t be a waste?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

“At least you’ll make a living! You’ll still be around people who love you, who take care of you. You’ll always be near us,” he argued.

Ella let out a bitter, humorless bark of laughter. “People who take care of me?! I’ve been taking care of you for almost five years! All of you! Especially you! When mom died, I was the one who fed us, I was the one who cleaned and tried to cook! And you did fuck-all except drink and lie around crying!”

Eyes darkening, Jake took a step closer to her and she immediately recoiled. “I lost my wife. You will never understand that!”

“I lost my mother!” she screamed, hands clenched at her sides, so hard her knuckles turned white. Angry tears snuck up on her eyes but she swallowed them back to the best of her ability.

“If I’d have known how much you’d bitch about helping out, doing what a daughter should, I never would’ve let you take that job at Luke’s!”

“Doing what a daughter should?” she asked immediately, eyebrows shooting up. Her jaw was set firm with tension.

Fiona appeared from the kitchen behind her husband, putting a hand to his shoulder. “Baby, let’s just all take a minute to cool down.”

“You brother and I needed you and all you could do was complain!” he roared.

Ella scoffed. “You needed me? You needed me to keep you alive long enough for you to find a new wife to coddle you and baby you and cry with you when you told her about your tragic high school sweetheart! Why do you think she hates you, huh?”

Her stomach did a flip when she saw the hurt on Fiona’s face from the corner of her eye, but a fire burned so hot inside her, and she couldn’t keep her words contained any longer. She’d tried to play the dutiful woman of the house long enough.

“Do not talk about my marriage!” Jake warned. “It’s none of your business!”

“Of course it’s my business! It’ll be my business when I have to pick up the pieces once she leaves you!”

“You have always been such a little brat! You were a nightmare to raise for me and for Sophia!” A vein had popped out in his forehead, and he shrugged Fiona’s touch from his shoulder.

“Fuck you!”

Crack! Ella seemed to hear it before she felt it: a sharp, searing pain as his open palm struck her cheek. It was a feeling she hadn’t experienced in so long, not since she was ten and had mouthed off at the dinner table. A sinking feeling struck her stomach as silence filled the room. Because she suddenly discovered she had always been expecting it. Always knew it would happen again, someday, somehow. And she’d been almost surprised he hadn’t smacked her in the months following her mother’s death. But, the levee had to break. It always did.

She brought a hand to her stinging flesh, and her father stopped in his tracks. Remorse washed over his features and he went to reach out for her. Flinching away from him, Ella felt her fingers grip at her necklace.

“Ellie, I’m so sorry, baby. I told you not to use that language with me. And you know how my old man was about-”

“No,” she said softly, shaking her head. “No.”

.   .   .

The final, strong bass note of the White Stripes song Hep Alien played broke her from her memories. She could see the dull sky as she packed up her car the best she could, the night crossing over into morning as she offered Adam a quick goodbye. He’d been upset, but also somewhat calm. And when he’d come to visit her a week later during one of her shifts at the diner, he told her he had always known Ella would leave. From the first night after their mother had died, he’d known. Though he knew it was fruitless to try and convince her not to feel guilty, Adam had told her not to worry. He could handle home on his own, he was confident. He’d never been slapped. And they were both smart enough to understand why.

And when she’d come to Lane in the early hours of the morning, still painfully holding back her tears with the entire contents of her life parked out on the street in the station wagon, she knew everything would change. Lane had welcomed her with open arms, of course. Had seen Ella cry for only the third time in all their years knowing each other. There was something so sweet about her new freedom, but a heaviness still sat in Ella’s heart. Constant guilt and fear for Adam, heartache over her mother, who she still missed everyday. And she felt so lost, it was all-consuming. She didn’t know what the next step was. Would she still be able to pay for college? Would she ever speak to her stepmother again? Would she even stay a history major, if she was lucky enough to continue her education? She had never been more glad for Luke’s, and for her friends. There were few comforts in her life, continued existence as a waitress, or knowing Adam was only a few blocks away in case something ever happened. She clung to the only constants left for dear life. She’d been dreaming of leaving the house for so long, but it managed to be even harder than she thought it would be. A gloomy cloud had been hanging over her for a few weeks, as she walked through her existence with an aimlessness she had never known before.

Clapping some, Ella offered a big smile and watched as Zach, Gil, and Bryan began to talk amongst themselves about the new tattoo Gil had shown up to practice with. Lane excused herself from the conversation only because of the temptation. She wanted a tattoo, really did, but didn’t want to increase the chances of her mother disowning her any more than she already had. Instead, she came to join Ella on the couch, plopping down and putting an arm around her friend. Ella kept her smile and rested her head against Lane’s shoulder. Since moving in, Ella was reminded every day of what a wonderful person Lane was. They came from such different worlds, but never judged each other, always took care of each other, helped each other with their respective escapes. Working together at Luke’s had been even more fun than Ella could have ever imagined. It was a welcome end to the long, lonely year after Jess’s departure, just she and Luke sulking around together. There was a place for sulking, but the time for it seemed to be coming to an end.

“You guys were fucking great,” Ella said, then gestured down to the picture she had just drawn. “You’re a regular Meg White up there. Really.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Lane chirped, beaming with pride.

Snorting a laugh, Ella put the sketchbook aside and bit back a yawn. “Don’t I know it.”

“Hey, are you okay?” Lane asked, brows furrowing.

It almost made her want to laugh. Over the past two weeks, Lane had asked her that question more than had once seemed humanly possible. “Yeah, Lane. I’m fine. Just a long day. Got roped into being a flower girl.”

“What?”

“Yeah, Luke’s sister. Liz. Have you met her before? You weren’t working at the diner yet the last time she was in town,” she said tiredly.

“No, I haven’t,” Lane replied. “Jess’s mom, right?”

“She is indeed.”

“And why exactly are you filling what is traditionally a role for a girl in pigtails and Mary Janes?”

Blowing out a sigh, Ella shook her head slightly. “I don’t even know. She just sort of told me...didn’t exactly ask. It’s next week in town square, so there’s not enough time. And Luke really seemed like he wanted me to and I just...I don’t know. Maybe she’s a witch.”

“Always a possibility,” Lane nodded, going along with the bit as she always did. “And have you heard from Jess lately?”

Again, Ella shook her head. “He still doesn’t have an actual phone number, and now I don’t either. Not optimum communication conditions.”

“Yeah, that’s not ideal,” Lane said, commiserating.

“I wish it had crossed my mind, but I moved out in about forty-five minutes,” Ella said, fiddling with her necklace.

A guilty look painted her features. But she’d only been out of the house a little while, maybe he hadn’t called.

“Do you think he’ll come for the wedding?”

Ella scoffed. “Not a chance in hell.”

.   .   .

“Are you sure I can’t help with anything else?” Ella asked, arms crossed over her chest.

Her chewed pencil sat behind her ear, and her hair fell in a loose, hasty braid over her shoulder. One of her booted feet tapped constantly against the tiled floor, and she smoothed over her blue skirt every few minutes. And she only looked half as stressed as Luke. The wedding was in two days, and nearly everything had been dumped on him. As a consequence, Ella had been dealing with the diner business while Luke argued on the phone with vendors who could give him the proper medieval food and decor.

The midday lull had finally come, and Lorelai stopping in was sure to bring a little sunshine. Though she had been pretty overwhelmed herself, lately. The new Dragonfly Inn opening was only weeks away.

Luke shook his head at Ella when he’d finished giving Lorelai the rundown of the week’s events. “Not right now, kid. That was the last call I had to make. At least for the time being.”

“Just say the word,” Ella shrugged, finally letting herself relax a touch, leaning her forearms onto the counter.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“So, am I caught up on everything, then?” Lorelai chimed in, brows raised and eyes expectant.

“Yeah, I’d say so…” Luke began, but the bell over the door jingled.

A familiar scowl appeared in the diner’s entrance, and Jess trudged up to the counter with a finger pointed at Luke. “I’m not paying for a motel, so I’m stayin’ with you!”

Lorelai gasped dramatically and narrowed her eyes at Luke. “Liar!”

As he passed on his way to the stairs, Jess gave Ella a curt nod. She reciprocated, but felt unnerved by his demeanor. Was it shy? Was it angry? It certainly didn’t seem pleasant. They hadn’t spoken in nearly three weeks, the longest time since he had first run away to California.

“I didn’t think he was coming,” Luke muttered, watching Jess disappear up the stairs. A wistful, fond smile crossed Luke’s lips. “I went to see him in New York.”

“You did?” Ella asked, brows furrowed.

“Yeah. It was a total pig sty and he may or may not be a drug dealer. But, hey, at least he came,” Luke said, shaking his head in a mixture of amusement and wonder.

Sighing through her nose, Ella looked down at her feet and bit at the inside of her cheek. Her gaze focused on nothing in particular, thoughts swimming around and colliding with each other inside her already crowded mind. “Yeah. At least. I’m gonna take my ten minutes. That alright?”

Luke was busy, back to his banter with Lorelai, and only gave a half nod her way. She snickered at how enveloped in each other the two of them were. Without much effort, she slipped behind the curtain and climbed up the stairs unnoticed. Nerves coursed through her, and her heart sped up in her chest. She gave two short, harsh knocks on the window of the shabby apartment door.

After waiting a moment and receiving no response, she rolled her eyes to herself. Who was she to be nervous? He was pretty much her best friend, besides Lane. And she hadn’t done anything wrong. With a new, determined quality to her steps, she walked through the front door and found him just where she expected, on his old bed, nose already buried in a book.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she plastered on a confident smirk and sat down on the end of the bed. She recognized the book instantly, her own copy buried in the pile of belongings in her car: Sweet Thursday by John Steinbeck.

“The only author we could ever agree on,” she said, eyeing the book though Jess still hadn’t lifted his head.

“Pretty much,” he replied flatly, biting at his bottom lip as he focused on the words in front of him.

Sighing shortly through her nose, Ella turned to face him fully, sitting criss-cross applesauce on the familiar brown afghan. Jess unconsciously brought his feet in closer to make room for her, his knees up in the air, blocking her view of his face slightly. But she could see his hair, longer still and without any gel.

“See you’ve completely ditched the pompadour look,” she muttered. “Couldn’t handle being mistaken for an Elvis impersonator any longer, huh?”

“My God, you should do stand-up,” Jess said dryly, eyes widening in feigned amazement as he kept reading.

Shaking her head slightly, Ella let a harsh chuckle escape her lips and furrowed her brows at him. “Out with it, jackass.”

“Hm?” he asked dismissively, taking a pencil from his pocket to underline a phrase.

Ella pursed her lips in frustration. “Well, it’s obvious you’re pissed. I say we skip the passive-aggressive theatrics and you just spill it. But, hey, this is a democracy. You also get a vote.”

Rolling his eyes, Jess finally shot a glance over his knees. Heaving a sigh, he shut his book and tossed it into the open duffel bag on the floor next to the bed. In one swift movement, he mirrored her sitting position and tilted his head at her in askance.

“Have you been doing a lot of hard partying lately? Really taking advantage of this college thing? Or have you been avoiding my calls?” he asked, though he wasn’t angry, despite the sarcasm. There was a defeated tone in his voice which surprised her; almost disappointed.

Biting the inside of her cheek, she gave another small shake of her head, and she spoke firmly. “Well, first of all, I’m not required to take your calls. I asked you to call me because you fucked off to California without telling me and I wanted to make sure you hadn’t been serial-killed.”

Jess gave a begrudging nod, almost preparing for a dressing down.

“But, no, I haven’t been avoiding your calls, alright? Paranoid much?”

He scoffed, but she cut him off before he could retort.

“I moved out.”

Immediately, his eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You did?”

She nodded. “Yeah. About two weeks ago. Wasn’t exactly seamless, and I bet my dad will disconnect my old line at some point. I’ve been staying at Lane’s with her and the band. They don’t have a phone yet. And you change your number pretty much every week, so it’s not like I could let you know.”

A smile crossed his features. “I’m...that’s great, Eleanor.”

She snorted a laugh of disbelief. “Yeah, it’s so great living out of my car and sleeping on Lane’s forty-year-old couch.”

Jess shrugged. “Gotta start somewhere.”

“I guess.”

He looked flabbergasted. “I’m so proud of you.”

A blush heated her cheeks and she chuckled breathily in confusion. “What?”

“For moving out. I mean, I can’t imagine it was a quiet affair,” he said, face falling slightly.

Again, she shook her head, glancing down at the space between them on the comforter and clutching her necklace. “No. It wasn’t.”

“What happened?” he ventured without hesitation, searching her face and exposed arms for any yellowed bruises or healing cuts. Sometimes, he could give even Ella a run for her money when assuming the worst.

Ella shrugged noncommittally, throwing a glance down at her watch, then facing him again with a small smile. “Long story. I’ve only got a couple minutes left on break. You gonna be in town for a little while?”

“Until the minute the wedding ends.”

“Okay, we’ll find some time to catch up,” she said, smirking. “Luke tells me you’re a drug dealer now. You’ve gotta let me in on all your behind-the-scenes Scarface facts.”

Jess rolled his eyes. “God, Luke is such a drama queen. I’m a messenger.”

“Nice cover. Very convincing.”

“Don’t you have coffee to pour?” he shot back, defensive.

Snickering, Ella rose from the bed, smoothing down her skirt and apron. “Whatever keeps the guilt at bay, tough guy.”

“G’bye,” he muttered, grumpy, as he settled back against the wall and picked up his book again. But, just before Ella reached the door: “What time are you off, Eleanor?”

“Six-thirty. Luke’s closing up early to play wedding planner,” she said, hand poised over the doorknob.

Jess chuckled. “Pizza at Antonioli’s tonight?”

“Sure. I even promise not to wear a wire.”

The pillow Jess had thrown barely missed her as she exited the apartment, laughing under her breath.

.   .   .

Sighing softly, Ella ran the key along the chain of her necklace and looked down at the half-eaten pizza crusts on her paper plate. The old wooden table in the pizza place was slightly sticky, and carved with the names of various people and couples who had shared a pie there before. But, they could watch the Stars Hollow evening turn from golden to blue as the sun went down, sitting by the front window. Jess had to leave by eight, and it was half past seven by the time the stars came out. Summer had almost come, and the days were long and bright with sunshine. Chilly breezes swept past at night, but it was getting warmer still.

“So...yeah. It only took me about forty-five minutes to pack everything up. Didn’t realize how little stuff I had until I could fit almost everything in my trunk and back seat,” she said, a small, humorless smile on her face.

Jess nodded, rolling a balled-up napkin absently in his hand as he listened, his face stony. “Was it just yelling? Or did he hit you?”

Breathing another long sigh through her nose, Ella bit the inside of her cheek. “Just once. He just slapped me once. He told me not to swear at him, but I-”

“Eleanor,” he interjected, voice firm but gentle. “Once is way too much. Even a slap. It’s way, way too many times.”

She only shrugged. “I know. I mean, of course I know that. It’s just…”

Again, he nodded wordlessly. Jess knew what it was like to have a parent, or a step-parent, who used hurt as a tool. And he knew the confusion. Sometimes monsters wore masks. She didn’t have to say anything more.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

Ella shook her head. “It’s not your fault. And I’m moved out now, Jess.”

“Right...and I meant what I said. I’m so proud of you, Stevens.” Jess reached hesitantly across the table, and took her free hand in his. Gave it one squeeze.

She flashed him a tiny smile, squeezed it back. Then she disentangled their fingers and tucked her hair behind her ears, clearing her throat and straightening her back. The severity left her features, a new, mischievous twinkle lighting up her hazel eyes. Her chest was less heavy, and she was glad he knew. Glad he could understand with so few words.

“Proud of you too, Mariano. This time, I didn’t have to watch you step out of a sheriff’s car when you got to town,” she smirked, picking up one of the crusts and taking another bite out of it.

He frowned. “Ugh, please don’t mention Andy Griffith. That car is my property. The only reason I even called Luke after I got to Venice was to ask about the car and he-”

Still chuckling, Ella raised her hands in surrender, cutting him off. “White flag.”

Jess offered a sardonic, lop-sided smirk. “And, believe or not, Luke will be the sanest person at the bachelor party tonight.”

“Why are you even going?” she asked, brows furrowed as she took a sip of her water, ice melty from time and the May heat seeping through the splintered wood of the front door.

Shaking his head, Jess glanced down at his watch and noticed he had only ten minutes before he and Luke would have to hop in Luke’s ancient green truck. “I don’t know. Luke mentioned me not wanting to go to Liz, and then she spent thirty minutes babbling until she finally wore me down.”

Pursing her lips, Ella nodded. “Yeah, she’s very persuasive.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re looking at the flower girl,” she admitted, gesturing to herself.

He laughed breathily. “No way.”

“Yep. I’ll be there in the renaissance dress and all. Though, Lorelai said she would make some alterations for me. I’m going over to her house in a little while to sort out the whole corset situation.”

Jess snorted another chuckle. “Good luck.”

“Right back at ya, Mariano,” she teased. “Where on earth would TJ want to go for his bachelor party?”

“It’s a cliché I’m sure you’ll be able to guess on the first try,” Jess said with a dejected frown.

After only a moment with brows furrowed, realization flashed across Ella’s eyes and her expression turned to one of disgust. “Ugh, Jesus. A strip club?”

“I know,” he grumbled. “Believe me, I’ll be there in silent protest.”

“Mouth off to one of the owners if you get the chance, would you? For me?” she asked.

“Will do.”

.   .   .

“I don’t hate my mother,” Jess grumbled to Luke, rolling his eyes slightly.

He ran a hand through his messy hair, crossing his leather-clad arms. Maybe he should’ve known he would get into a fight with TJ at some point, considering his history with Liz’s past boyfriends and husbands. All it had taken was TJ hitting the Austen novel out of his hands, as he read begrudgingly in the low-lit strip club. And they’d come to blows. And Luke was pissed. They were sat down at a table in Luke’s, the diner completely dark glowing only from the streetlamps and twinkle lights in the square. All the chairs, save for the two they sat in, were stacked up on the red tables. Luke was interrogating Jess about why he’d come for the wedding anyway, if he was so mad about it. As if he hadn’t stormed into Jess’s apartment trying to convince him to come only a few days earlier.

“You don’t?” Luke asked, eyebrows raised in expectation. “Then why did you come, anyway, if you’re so against your mother finding happiness? And it’s pretty clear you hate me.”

Jess sighed heavily at Luke’s dramatics. “I don’t hate you. I came here because of you.”

“Stop that,” Luke scolded in disbelief.

“You said it was important to you. Remember?” Jess asked, voice tight with annoyance.

“I didn’t think you were listening.”

“Oh, I was listening.”

Luke stared at his nephew for a long moment, leaning back in his chair. “So, you don’t hate your mom. You don’t hate me. But, really, all it took was me coming to New York to yell at you?”

Sighing, Jess said nothing. His lips were set in a thin line, and he averted his gaze from his uncle. He ran a hand over his mouth.

Eyes widening, Luke cracked a knowing grin. “You came because of Ella? But, you haven’t been together in...what? A year?”

Jess gave a sheepish nod. “Yeah, but, we still talk every couple weeks. She didn’t tell you?”

Luke snorted. “Well, I remember her chewing you out that first time you called. Telling you to let her know you were alive. But I didn’t know you were really talking.”

Running a hand over his mouth again, Jess gave another nod.

“So?” Luke asked, prodding. “Why’d you need to come here...if you call so often anyway?”

Jess bit at his bottom lip, squirming under the questions. “Since she moved out, she hasn’t been picking up. I didn’t know what happened. I wanted to...make sure. Because…”

“What?”

“I think...I mean...I’m in love with her, alright?” Jess spit out, an anxious bite in his voice.

Luke’s eyebrows shot up, and a flabbergasted look formed on his face. “Wow!...You think you’re in love with her?”

Jess shrugged. “Pretty sure. But, I’ve been thinking that since I was seventeen. And she doesn’t believe in love, anyway.”

Scoffing, Luke shook his head. “I know she says that, but it’s crap. What do you love about her, Jess?”

“Excuse me?” Jess asked, brows furrowing.

Luke rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Jess, I think it’s great that you know how you feel. And like I said earlier, I’m not gonna keep trying to change you. You are who you are. And Ella is who she is. If you’re gonna tell her how you feel, you have to do it carefully. And you have to be sure. So, tell me what you love about her.”

Scowling, Jess looked long and hard at his uncle. “What, do you wanna hold hands and skip afterwards?”

“Do you want to do this right or not?”

Finally, Jess relented. “Okay. Fine. I love that she...she’s so passionate. About everything. And she talks with her hands. And she eats peanut butter right out of the jar when she’s sick. And she hums while she works, without even realizing it. She..she cares so much about her friends and her brothers and her aunt and...I don’t know. She does everything for other people. She doesn’t think she’s a people person. But she really is. Even the way she talks to customers...you can really see it.

“And she’s such an amazing artist. She can feel art. And music. I’ve never met anyone else like that before. I can talk to her for hours...or not say anything at all. I miss her when she’s gone. Everything is...just better when I’m with her.”

When Jess looked up again, he found his uncle with a smug smirk. As Jess was speaking, his eyes had taken on a far-off quality. And though he didn’t want to be talking, his lips had started to curl upward at the corners anyway. Just from thinking of her. Luke recognized everything in Jess’s expression.

Jess shook his head slightly, jaw tense, embarrassment swirling in his stomach. “What?”

“Nothing,” Luke said lightly, almost mocking. “I’ve just...never seen that look on your face before.”

Rolling his eyes again, Jess scoffed angrily.

“Alright, alright,” Luke said, fighting off good-natured laughter. “Open two-way communication is the foundation of love…”

[charlotine]

Have You Ever Heard of ADHD?

The first time I heard the word ADHD, I was in secondary school. I had to see the teachers, my classmate would tell me. I just got diagnosed ADHD. She’d never focus in lesson, always scraped average grades and everyone would gossip about her. What’s ADHD? I’d ask my friends. It’s what all the delinquents and stupid people have, they’d joke with a giggle.

As a child, I was always described as smart. I asked questions about how the world worked and persisted until I’d reached a full understanding of the topic. On top of that, I was the firstborn, a girl in an Asian household, so I grew up very traditionally. My parents worked a lot to provide for me in this foreign country we’d moved to, so I was often left alone. My parents would know to leave the PC or TV on because otherwise, I had a bad habit of wandering. Sometimes it’d just be to the landlord’s apartment, sometimes it’d be to other people’s houses (obviously quite bad seeing as I was 4-8).

In primary school, I was the weird Asian kid. In fact, the only Asian kid. Per year group there was at least one or two Asians and one black person in my school. But I was weird, I struggled to fit in with my peers because nothing they did made sense to me.

My behaviour and how different I was proved to be enough ammunition to bully me. I’d watch TV sometimes, to try and figure out how to interact with people my age. Adults always seemed easier, because I was cute and smart. I remembered watching how a boy had pulled down his friend’s trousers on TV and they’d laughed, so I did the same to a girl in my class with the blue dress, and she screamed. I didn’t know, I’d wail to the teacher, I didn’t know it was wrong, please don’t tell my parents. 

Eventually, I reminded myself I was different from other kids. How? I didn’t know, but I just did. So I taught self to be quiet and recluse, no matter how bad my mind would shout, because I wanted to be liked. Needed. I was so quiet some people would forget that we’d been to school together all our lives. I learnt to be quiet, because the few instances where I did have friends, I didn’t know how to control my exuberance. It was either hot or cold for me, and I was already worried enough about being ostracised, so I taught myself to be quiet.

I began to hyper-fixate on books and reading from age 8-11, because I had no friends. Or because I hyper-fixated, I had no friends, but growing up, I bitterly assumed the former. I’d read during break and lunch hours, and during lessons if I could; I could roughly get through two 500 paged books a day. I finished the Harry Potter series in 4 days. Every time I would stop, I would feel like my chest was crashing in, and I’d feel that all-consuming isolation and darkness in my heart again. My reading age was on par to a high schoolers by the time I was 9, partly because my dad began handing me adult crime novels.

The teachers would all describe me as smart, but lacking in effort. I’d astound them during class hours, but they’d have to put me in a lower set because once I’d leave the classroom, I wouldn’t exert energy into the subject. I rarely handed in homework, and I’d attend my detentions and read a book because I didn’t know how to explain that I’d forgotten. Everyone would lie and say the same, and I knew they wouldn’t believe me anyway.

The first time I heard the word ADHD, I was in secondary school. I had to see the teachers, my classmate would tell me. I just got diagnosed ADHD. She’d never focus in lesson, always scraped average grades and everyone would gossip about her. What’s ADHD? I’d ask my friends. It’s what all the delinquents and stupid people have, they’d joke with a giggle.

By the time I started secondary school at 11, my issues all but seemingly disappeared. I always held the best grades in English, Science, German, amongst others. I’ve never given this high a grade to a 12 year old, my English teacher would say with teary eyes. I called all my friends to read your work to them, and I wanted to ask permission to photocopy your work because I want to keep this with me. It’s a truly beautiful piece. 

It’s because she’s Asian, my classmates would say dismissively. They couldn’t compete against an Asian, being smart was expected of me. Things like schoolwork were easier for me, somehow.

I’d always turn up to class with innovative and original projects, shocking all the teachers pleasantly because no one had ever in their entire time of being a teacher. When everyone would turn up with paper drawings of a hastily drawn house labelling the French verbs, I’d turn up with a large painted box with 3D figurines. Miss, she’s Asian, my classmates would say. We can’t compete with her when it’s in her blood. 

After a teacher would issue a project, my mind would be hyper-fixated. Make a project, she’d say. I don’t care what medium you use, but it has to relate to the verbs we learnt in lesson today. I’ll see you after half term break. As soon as I’d get home, I’d need to start the project otherwise my heart might just give up. I‘d neglect tidying my room, my social life, my personal hygiene, my sleep, my other projects and eating because I need to do this project mum, you don’t understand. My mind was in hyperdrive, I couldn’t rest because this project was my world, my reason for air. 4 days later, and I’d have a few days left of half term and I’d only eaten maybe 2 small meals the past few days.

 (Why can’t you be normal? My mum would plead.

Eyes downcast, I’d whisper, but mum. This is my normal.)

 We’re concerned about her, my mum would say to Jenny the therapist. She can be the loveliest person one minute, and the next she can be a whole different person. And she’s not eating again, I think she thinks she’s fat.

She isn’t eating? Jenny would frown. The rest is just hormones, but I think I need to explain to your daughter the negative side effects of anorexia again. 

I did think I was fat. I’d look in the mirror and wish to be somebody else, just not me, but I didn’t starve myself. Not intentionally, anyway. But, I’d frown, how do I explain to everyone that sometimes I just forget how to take care of myself? How, sometimes, some things were more important than taking care of myself?

Your daughter is very, very smart, my teacher would say with a smile. She reminds me just exactly why I’d decided to be a teacher — she excels in French, German, Psychology, all my subjects! You should be very proud. 

Ah, my mum would look at me with watery eyes, thank you, thank you.

The lesser pieces of homework, I’d forget about until last minute, but no one would ever believe me. How did you explain that if it didn’t send your mind into hyperdrive, that it’d disappear? I’d go through the week care free, and then my friend would message me at 9PM at night and then I’d remember. During those times, I’d skive off school the next day to get out of it because I didn’t know how to explain that I’d simply forgotten to a teacher when everyone would lie and say the same.

Your daughter hasn’t turned up to lesson this week, my teacher would say with a frown. We’re very worried about her, she said she’s going through a hard time, and even in lesson she never seems to focus. 

Really? My mum would look at me with watery eyes, I didn’t know. She, ah, told us she went to the school this week. 

First Jenny said anxiety, then depression. Anak, my mum would say. Tell us what’s wrong so we can help you. You’re so smart, but you’re wasting it away. You know me and dad want you to make something of yourself, so you’re not suffering like us. But I’d taught myself how to be quiet, and I didn’t know how to explain. What was I meant to say?

 (Mum, I can’t focus on things and it goes right out of my ears and I don’t know why, no matter how hard I try to listen. Mum, I couldn’t sleep last night, because I really needed to finish researching the Cold War and Buffy the Vampire Slayer and I couldn’t stop, and that’s why I didn’t get up for school in the morning. Mum, I can’t go to school today because even though I’ve known about our speaking test for 2 weeks and it’s all I can think about, I couldn’t revise. Mum, I can’t focus on this thing right now, because all my mind can focus on is Henry VIII even though we haven’t done him in history for 6 years. Mum, I know you gave me all of this month to clean my room, but then I’d have to pick everything up, put it into order, change my bedsheets, hoover the floor, and the thought of all that was too overwhelming for me that I just couldn’t start, but I’m not lazy, I swear.)

 Instead I’d say, mum, I think I’m just sad. I fell out with my friends last week, I’d say hollowly, and I just feel sad. 

With hardened eyes, she’d tell me to prioritise yourself, anak, friends come and go, and the only person you can depend on is yourself. 

My mum never remembered my friends names. I loved all my friends and every single person meant the world to me, but I’d cycle through them in the span of 6 months. I’d go through friends and friendship groups, and my mum would smile at all of them and say, what happened to Natalie? What happened to Lily? in our native tongue.

I hate them, mum, I’d say bitterly. They were using me, too. 

With disbelieving eyes, she’d laugh. Everyone is always using you. Why can’t you just be happy? Why can’t you just read a book and be happy?

 (Mum, I can’t stop counting the lines, I have to make sure that they follow the pretty pattern in my head that make it look inexplicably real to me, otherwise I can’t, and then I realise I haven’t been paying attention to the words at all.)

Instead, I’d shrug. Books are boring now, mum. 

My relationships were intense with everyone. No matter the longevity, I’d feel heartbroken for every single person. I’d be inconsolable for days. If you want to die so bad, my sobbing mum would say with my lined wrist in her grasp, just tell me and I’ll do it for you.

Have you heard of hyper-mania? Sarah, the first, would inquire with a tilt of her head.

No, I’d shake my head.

Rivotril, aripiprazole, lithium, and alprazolam for anxiety attacks, Sarah would write. We think it’s bipolar disorder and anxiety disorder. They often have comorbidity.

I feel sorry for you, my aunt would say. You’re only 15 and you have to take so much.

Setraline, alprazolam and lithium, David would write. Due to the last two suicide attempts, we think it’s borderline personality disorder and anxiety disorder. Her mood swings are too frequent. 

She’s only 16, my dad would say gruffly. Why does she hate being alive so much? It’s the meds, they’re ruining her.

I made friends with a girl with ADD in college. She was a daydreamer and had to sit extra classes. Oh, I’d laugh. It makes sense, you’re always losing track of conversation. Then I dated a boy with ADHD; that’s why I struggle so badly in school, he’d explain to me. Oh, I’d reply. School has always been easy for me. I can help you go through your notes. 

In college, they’d tell me I shouldn’t have been a year behind. Not to show any blatant favouritism, my teacher would say with a conspiratorial smile. But unlike some of your other classmates, you’re one of the few who don’t really need to be here in remedial GCSEs.

I’d take the compliment and thank him with a nod. But why can I not focus? My mind would plead. Why is it that I can never sit still, why is it that I need to be talking or using my phone to function during lectures? Why is it that I can’t learn the same way everyone else does?

But I’d learnt to be quiet, after a while. My parents had told me I was attention seeking and that there wasn’t anything wrong with me. How could there be? I was pretty, I could make friends easily if I so wanted, and I was smart. In the homeland, anak, my mum would tell me with a scathing look. The mentally disabled people are in wheelchairs, you don’t have any mental illness. You just want there to be, and it’s all in your head. 

 (I wish I hadn’t lived, I’d whisper to my brother in the hospital. This would be the third time, and not the last.

Huh? What did you say? My brother would ask.

I said, I screamed, I wish I hadn’t lived.)

 Why did you do it? The third, Jamie, would ask, after the fourth, the fifth. Did you plan it?

Everything was spinning out of control, I’d reply. And I needed to escape. I wanted to disappear. I didn’t plan it, but it made sense at the time. 

So you didn’t want to die?

Contemplatively, I’d tell him I don’t know, but maybe. 

Hmm, would be all he’d say for a moment. How do you feel?

I feel empty a lot. Like I need something to fulfil me so I won’t feel like dying today. Even when I try to sleep at night, I can’t, because there’s so many things that I need to do. Like go for a long jog, bake a cake or write as long a story as I can write. I used to have a drinking problem, I’d tell him shakily. Back when I was 14. It was the only way I could get to sleep at night. Everything that I do to myself needs to be intense, so it can break through the monotony. I struggle in school, I do, I’d plead with him. Everyone looks at my grades and they don’t see it, but it’s hard going in and doing work, when I can’t sit still and be focused. 

Hmm, he’d say.

I have sex a lot, I’d tell him. I don’t like forming attachments to people because they always leave, so it’s always different people. Sometimes... I’d hesitate. It’s not safe. 

What do you mean?

They’re strangers I meet on the internet, I’d whisper. I can’t do it at my home because of my parents, they’re catholic and believe in chastity, so we go to their house. Or their cars.

Hmm, he’d say. Why?

Why what?

Why do you do this to yourself? You’ve mentioned before that you dissociate during sex and find no pleasure in doing so, so why?

I... I’d say truthfully. I don’t know.

Jamie would ask about my sex life. My parents would say I’d indiscriminately have sex with men and women too often, and they were scared for me. He’d ask about drugs, and my parents would say they didn’t know, but that I was easily influenced. He’d ask about school and friends; my parents would say I was very smart, but lazy. They’d inform him that I argued and fell out with my friends often, and had a penchant for the short term. He’d ask how I was like at home; my parents would share a look, and tell him how I could be two different people sometimes. Lovely, my mum would say, and other times horrible and a stranger to us, my dad would finish. She can be sweet often, my mum would tell him, and other times she’ll be so angry she trashes her room, my dad would finish.

 (What’s it like, I’d ask my boyfriend. Having ADHD?

It’s like being a magpie. You have one thought, but the other is too shiny, and the next is always shinier. Your thoughts are always racing, conversation topics are always changing, you can’t stop talking, and people say you’re annoying. Sometimes, I’ll have that nyan-cat song stuck in my head on repeat. It’s like needing subtitles when you watch a movie and the Wikipedia page up, too, because you can’t focus. It’s like the way I can never find the right tab, because there’s always more than 50 open on my phone. It’s like having a long list of things you really need to do, but no matter how much you know this, you can’t do any of it. It’s like, when I was 5, I’d say swear words in school all the time. It’s like always being late to everything, no matter how hard you try. It’s why I get angry at you a lot, he’d tell me. And why I can never remember what you last said to me. It’s like being a normal person and drinking 10 energy drinks, but you don’t need the energy drinks. 

Oh, I’d frown. I understand what you mean. And I did. I really did.)

 Finally, my third psychiatrist would say to us, have you ever heard of Attention-Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder?

[amyscascadingtabs]

this is the safest place i’ve ever known

(read on ao3)

my mind is still reeling thinking about mel being pregnant and i needed some pregnancy fluff in my life so i wrote this hope you enjoy xox

~

Throughout their relationship, Jake has always cherished his and Amy's last moments of the day. The relaxed half an hour where she's solving crossword puzzles and he's playing games on his phone, followed by the moment she’ll decide she's tired and they'll turn out the lights and snuggle for a bit before each drifting off to sleep, is one of his favorite parts of living together. He never thought he'd see a day where these nights became even better, but the day their baby started kicking, he’d found out he’d been dead wrong. 

 He'd known Amy would feel it first. In a logical sense, it had felt more than fair when he considered their respective workloads for the whole pregnancy project, but on an emotional level, it wasn't as black-and-white. Jealousy was an ugly emotion, and he hadn’t experienced it for a second witnessing the first trimester’s crying feasts and vomiting episodes, but it hadn’t been without its sting when she'd texted him during the midst of a busy workday. 

 I think I just felt Peanut move. 

 Like, 90% sure. 

Oh my god, he’d written back, almost immediately. I’m so proud of them. 

 He’d stopped for a moment before adding, I hope I can feel it soon.

 I’m sure you will, babe. ❤️

 It had taken two long weeks before he did. 

Jake was embarrassed to admit it, but there had been times during those weeks where he’d felt left out, so clearly separate from the bond between Amy and the tiny life they’d created. She would put her hand on the ever-growing bump whenever it happened, a delighted smile on her lips, and he’d touch his hand to the exact same place without any reaction. Either their baby was shy for some reason, or they were straight-up trying to make him look like a fool. He didn’t exactly appreciate either, but any movement from them would leave Amy beaming with happiness and pride for several minutes, so he’d swallowed the self-centric jealousy, kissed her forehead and let it be. 

 They’d celebrated twenty-one weeks of pregnancy - more than halfway to the finish line - the night he’d first felt it. It was more of an early night in and snuggling under the comforter kind of celebration than anything else, but it had felt perfect all the same. Jake had been seconds away from closing his eyes, lazily tracing patterns with his fingers on his wife’s baby bump and pressing kisses while her shoulder, when he’d first felt something move beneath his palm. The smallest of nudges, subtle and almost inconspicuous; but he’d felt it. 

“Ames,” he’d practically gawked. “They moved!”

“Yeah, I know. Wait,” she blinked, realizing what he’d said. “You felt that?”

“Yeah! About time!” 

She’d laughed at his excitement, ruffling his curls as he dove under the comforter.

“I’m going to see if I can get them to do it again,” he mumbled with his lips right below her belly button, running his hands along her sides. 

“Why do I feel like this is going to be a long night?”

 Their evenings had gained a brand-new tradition since that night. If they’d been perfect before, Jake couldn’t help but think this was better still. Each night as they settled on their preferred sides of the bed, Amy with an increasing collection of pillows, Jake would give her about five minutes of solo crossword puzzle solving until he set to work on trying to communicate with their baby. Evenings were when they were most awake, he’d learned. To a beginning, he’d only get faint, bubbling movements that were gone in a second, but as the weeks passed, they grew more distinct until he could see them happening. It all felt very alien if he thought too hard about it, but then again, that was true for most pregnancy facts. At least he could have fun with this part. 

 ~

 “Jake, are you trying to annoy them into kicking?” 

“Mm-hmm?” He feigns an innocent expression, pouting his lip as he looks up at his six-months-pregnant wife. “Just preparing them for the outside world, babe.”

“So they’re ready for you to annoy the crap out of them when they're born?”

“Pssch, me? I’ve never been annoying in my life.” He ignores the glare Amy shoots him. “I'm preparing them for actual annoying things, like taxes, and following rules.”

“Following rules isn't annoying,” she protests, twitching as Jake tries to tickle her. “Babe, I swear they’re asleep.”

“I swear you’re wrong.”

“Hey! I’m the one who’s carrying this child!”

“And you’re doing an awesome job of it.” He comes up for a second to give her a quick peck on the lips. He means what he’s saying - she’s totally acing the whole pregnancy thing, which he tries to remind her often  - but he has his limits. “Doesn't make you any less wrong, sadly.”

“Mm, you’re infuriating.” Her hands cup his face, drawing him back for a longer kiss that makes up for in heart what it lacks in flair. “You’re adorable, though.”

“The Peralta special,” he smirks. He’s still moving his palm back and forth on her stomach, hoping for the warm touch to garner a reaction. “Did you want to go to sleep, or -”

“You can talk to them for a bit, if you want.”

 Jake barely waits for her to finish her permission before he’s crawling underneath the duvet again, pressing his lips against the football-sized bump.

“So I know you’re very in love with your mom,” he starts off, earning himself another laugh from Amy. “Which, I totally get you. She’s the smartest, funniest, most beautiful and allover amazing woman I’ve ever met. Plus she’s literally growing you and all that, so you’re probably pretty loyal to her, right? That’s fair.”

He traces a heart around her belly button. “I know I’m not much in comparison to her. Right now, I’m just the weirdo guy who keeps trying to make you kick and sings Taylor Swift songs to you because you’re never too young to be introduced to the greatest songwriter of all. But do you think you could side with me, just for once? Come on. It’d be so fun to see your mom’s face.”

Nothing. He pushes his nose into Amy’s skin a bit further. 

“She makes this amazing expression when I’m right and she’s wrong about something, you know. She does this eye roll and purses her lips, like she’s trying to pretend she’s mad but she’s not. Trust me, it’s incredible.”

Amy huffs. “I don’t do that.” 

“Anyway, I know you’re not going to come out of there for a few months. You could actually survive now if you did, which is crazy to think about, but you shouldn’t because it would stress us all out very much and we haven’t even built your crib yet. Sorry about that. I just wanted to tell you that we’re going to have so much fun when you do,” he whispers, his voice softening. “We'll finally get to hang out just the two of us. We’re going to play games and share secrets, and when you’re a little older, we’ll watch all the movies for kids your mom never wants to see with me. It's going to be the best.”

 He has to pause for a moment. He takes a couple of deep breaths, in and out, pushing away the nervous 

feeling in his chest.  

“I used to be scared of this, you know. I still am. But… the weird thing is, it’s like the more you grow, the more excited I get, too. Because I'm scared of a billion different things, like maybe you’ll hate me or I won't know how to take care of you or maybe you won't even like Die Hard when you get older, but…” He lowers his voice and mumbles the next words. “You're kinda already the coolest person that ever existed.”

It's so weak, barely there at all, but underneath his palm, Jake feels a faint flutter.

“It’s an impressive achievement, considering you're not even born yet,” he continues, encouraged by the miniscule movement. “But it's true. You are. And I know it's like fifteen weeks left until then, but… I really can't wait to meet you, whenever you're ready.”

 There's another flutter. He presses his palm into the spot, waits a few seconds, and there's a proper kick right against his hand. 

“Told you so.” He looks up at Amy with a grin plastered on his face. “Awake.”

“You woke them up,” she says, shaking her head but smiling. “Waking up when you give them praise - that’s a Peralta if I ever knew one.”

He wants to retort something, but a series of repeated kicks against his palm makes him forget what he was planning to say. 

“I love you,” he whispers to their unborn child instead, his words muffled against Amy’s skin as he traces kisses up and down the curve of her stomach. “So much. You better get used to hearing me telling you that before you get out of there -”

 Jake doesn’t finish his sentence before there’s another kick - only this time, it’s right at his nose and packed with enough strength to make him flinch. “Ouch!”

Amy’s giggling so much she’s shaking, clasping her hand over her mouth as she keeps on laughing.

“They kicked my nose, Ames! I’m pretty sure that’s a hate crime!”

“Maybe they’re learning how to establish boundaries.”

“That or my discomfort with emotions is genetic,” he grumbles while massaging the bridge of his nose.

“It isn’t,” Amy promises him. She gestures at him to come closer and he goes willingly, meeting her lips with his and feeling her smile against them. “They just have to practice. If it’s any consolation, they’re kicking me in the bladder on a daily basis.”

Jake grimaces. “Ow.”

“Mm-hmm.” She beams, tracing her fingers through the curls near his forehead. “You’re going to be a great dad, you know.”

“You really think so?”

“I really do. And I can’t wait for us to meet our baby.”

“Our baby,” he repeats not for the first time in the last five months. Still holding one hand on the bump, he feels two more tiny kicks, growing stronger as Amy’s hand covers his. 

 He had a feeling their peaceful evenings together would come to change drastically in fifteen or so weeks’ time, but for now, they were well and truly perfect.

[nataliedanovelist]

GF - Beauty Within the Fallen ch.VI

Summary: Two misfit twins come across an enchanted castle, home of a mysterious beast, and slowly begin to form a strong bond that just might survive through anything. Even evil demons.

AU and artwork belong to the beautiful and very talented @artsycrapfromsai​. Go give her some love, guys!!!

ch.V - ch.VII

~~~~~~~~~~

The next few days were wonderful. The journal, the beast, and the two children grew closer and closer, becoming good friends. While the children enjoyed including Ford in all things possible, reading and drawing with him, they had a special bond with Stan. So many times the journal watched as the beast played in the snow, making snow angels and snowmen with Dipper and Mabel, or witnessed them playing chess, or heard of their times together from Stan himself, and Ford was so very happy for Stan. Maybe after all these years, he will finally believe he wasn’t a monster.

Stan was always good with kids, but the twins were special. Mabel knitted him the promised red sweater within two days and even blessed it with a kiss, as was tradition. Stan bit his lip and put it on under his cloak and wore it proudly all day, only taking it off in fear of ripping it or ruining it. The evening of their first snowball fight, Stan joined the children at the table and was so hungry that he had forgotten his little secret and buried his face into his soup like an animal, leaving his silverware abandoned by his bowl and making a mess. He suddenly stopped, embarrassed, and grumpily wiped his dripping, furry chin with his knuckles. Dipper and Mabel, however, were not disturbed or digested, as he had predicted they would be. Dipper only smiled at him (he had assumed this was how a canine-like creature would eat) and Mabel grinned and picked up her bowl. “Yeah! Who needs spoons?!” And she drank her soup from the soul with a smile. Dipper did the same. Stan grinned, wiped himself clean, and picked up his bowl and lapped it. The spoons stood up, huffed and stuck their heads up high, and left the dining hall. The next day, in front of the fire as Dipper read a new book out-loud and Mabel worked on an orange sweater, it happened again. Stan made a hostile comment about his appearance. His tone was casual and even a little comedic, but his vocabulary was dark and unappreciated by the children. They exchanged looks before Mabel finally decided to say something. “Stan, I really don’t like that m-word.” “What? Might?” “No,” Mabel laid her knitting down on her lap and gave him a firm yet gentle look; it reminded Stan of his mother. “You’re not… It’s not… I… It’s not what’s on the outside that counts, it’s what’s on the inside!” Mabel finally settled on. “And you’re full of giant, sparkly, dusty, mushy piles of gold!” “Yeah man,” Dipper injected. “Aside from a few hiccups, you’ve been nothing but nice to us. Don’t put yourself down like that. You’re not a monster.” He added firmly. “Not to mention cute and fluffy! Mabel added, ruffling the gray fur on his arm. “For what it’s worth, we think you’re pretty awesome.” Stan was stunned. He swallowed a lump in his throat and turned his head away, trying to hide a sniff as he wiped at his eye. “Aw, Stan,” Mabel cooed. “Dude, are you crying?” Dipper asked with a smile and a raised eyebrow. “No, I’ve just got something in my eye, that’s all.” Stan grumbled. “Staff’s gotten lazy with the dusting. Wish they did as good a job as you kids with that ballroom.” Mabel and Dipper, who weren’t fooled, smiled with pride, having just finished the ballroom today, and they resumed their activities in peace. Later that evening, when Stan recalled the event as he prepared for bed, Ford laughed (or laughed as much as a journal can). I’ve been telling you the same thing for years. Stan can practically hear his brother’s know-it-all tone. “Yeah, well, it’s different when those two kids say it.” Stan snapped. “They’re not blood.” Uh-huh. “Shut up, Sixer.” ~~~~~~~~~~ Dipper tested the pulley system again while Mabel hitched Waddles up. There was a huge washing well in the castle, and though the servants would have been happy to do laundry, the twins wanted to test their invention in peace; they never did get to see if it was truly better than hand-washing. Mabel laid a trail of corn around the well and Waddles trotted along happily, then the kids sat with a book and waited. Rather than Dipper reading, he had Mabel read in order to practice, none of them having to hear someone coming along and stopping a girl from learning. The clothes inside the barrel were spinning and getting soapy. Dipper and Mabel smiled at that and resumed their reading. Their invention seemed to be working. A soft knock on the door interrupted them and Stan walked into the shack. “Hey kids, just wanted… Holy Moses! What is that?” The beast asked as he looked at the odd contraption. “It’s our washing machine!” Mabel cheered. “Dipper invented it…” “Don’t even try, Mabel.” Dipper teased and lightly shoved her by the shoulder. “It was your idea, I just helped you make it real.” “Wow.” Stan bent his knees and watched the clothes turn and clean themselves in the barrel as Waddles pulled it along the well. “That’s really impressive, kids. Really. Just… wow.” “So,” Dipper said hesitantly. “You don’t think it’s weird?” “Are you kidding? It’s super weird, but weird’s a good thing. I’ve never seen anything like it! It’s unique!” Stan ruffled their hair and smiled kindly down at them. “I’m proud of you little geniuses. You did good. You know what, we should make this a permanent thing, make all the laundry go by faster.” As Mabel smiled, her bottom lip trembled. Dipper looked away with a red face. Apart from Fiddleford, no one had ever praised one of he and Mabel’s inventions. For the first time in his life, Dipper didn’t feel a freak for being himself. ~~~~~~~~~~ Stan was admiring the ballroom again. Those kids did a good job with it. It sparkled and shined like a huge diamond. It looked more lively than it looked in thirty years. Everyone here felt more alive than they had felt in thirty years. Tapping noises could be heard as Soos hopped up to Stan. “Sup, boss?” “Just thinking.” “Ah.” Soos hopped up onto the piano and smiled at Melody, who smiled back, before drawing their attention back to the master of this castle. “Soos, Melody, I’m sorry.” “Oh,” Melody sighed. “It’s alright. It’ll all be over soon, you’ll see, sir. Once the kids’ guardian takes them home they’ll help you find a nice girl that will break the spell.” Stan snorted with a half-smile. “I don’t think that’s gonna work, but I guess you miss all the shots you don’t take.” His ear flickered. He lifted his head. “Hear that?” Soos and Melody listened, but heard nothing. Stan left the ballroom and listened. His advanced hearing picked up… groaning? Punching? Cautious, Stan followed the sound to the old chophouse in the garden. He opened it to find Dipper alone in there, but he was punching a makeshift dummy made out of wood. Stan watched as Dipper’s noodle arms launched little, uncoordinated fists at a t-shaped wooden figure. He smiled and shook his head before emerging from behind the door. “I thought you said you didn’t wanna fight.” Dipper jumped, short of breath, but when he saw Stan he relaxed and kicked the hay-covered floor. “That’s not what I said. I just don’t wanna join the army like all the other boys at school. I still wanna learn how to fight.” “Why?” “Cuz Mabel needs me to!” Dipper snapped. Stan gave him a funny look, a look he couldn’t quite pin as a warning or sympathetic, so Dipper sat against the wall of the shack and explained himself. “I can’t go off to war because Mabel needs me here. If I went away and never came back she would be heartbroken. She can’t lose anything else, she just can’t. She already lost Mom and Dad and Grandpa, if she lost me, her twin, she’d… she’d…” The twelve-year-old rested his forehead on his folded arms and tried to compose himself. “I can’t lose her either. That’s why I have to learn how to fight. We almost died, twice. She needs me to be able to look after her.” “Sounds to be it’s more like you need her. You need to make sure she’s okay.” Stan concluded. Dipper sighed. “Yeah.” Stan smiled and bent his knees to be closer to the boy. “Look, kid, trust me, I might not know much, but I do know a thing or two about twins. You two need each other equally, trust me. Don’t you dare think for a second that’s not true. Also, I think knowing where you’re needed most is a huge part of what being a man is, and right now you’re the best at it I know.” Dipper lifted his head and stared up at the beast, whose eyes sparkled warmly. He smiled and said, “Thanks, Stan.” “Anyways,” He stood up straight and motioned for Dipper to do the same. “Wood makes a crummy opponent. If you really wanna learn, I’ll teach you how to fight.” Dipper stood up and accepted the offer, and so Stan taught him how to give a good punch and dodge pretty well. ~~~~~~~~~~ Mabel was laughing over a story Ford had just written for her. They were having fun together, drawing pictures, playing games, and telling stories. A fun game to play was one they made up where Ford would have Mabel give him a collection of words and he would make up a story from such words. Since he found Dipper far more relatable, Ford was happy to bond with Mabel and get to know her better. She seemed lost in thought as she looked away, and Ford patiently waited for an explanation why. “Ford,” Mabel said quietly. “Fiddleford said books don’t lie; is that true?” Ford’s soul smiled warmly. This book certainly doesn’t lie. What is troubling you, my dear? “Can you see me?” Yes. “Am I ugly?” If Ford had a heart, it would have skipped a beat. Mabel mustered enough courage to look at him and was surprised to see the words not as elegantly printed like before. What makes you ask such a question? Mabel sighed and looked down at her hands in her lap. “Back in my village, there’s a lot of cute boys. Dipper calls me boy-crazy. I used to ask out a lot of guys, I mean, if you want something go and get it, but more and more just laughed at me. Called me a freak for liking to invent and read books. Said my cheeks were too fat and my teeth are too crooked and my hair is too greasy and…” Mabel’s voice cracked and failed her. Mabel, read what I have to say very carefully. Ford instructed. Mabel wiped her stinging eyes to see better. You are the most beautiful thing I have seen in thirty years. You are very beautiful, both inside and out. No one is as kind as you, nor as insightful and delightful to be around. You - and your brother, too, for that matter - have made me feel more alive that I have ever felt, even as a human. So don’t you dare think for one moment that you’re ugly or that something is wrong with you. Mabel’s bottom-lip trembled. Tears rolled down her cheeks and she mumbled, “C-C-Can I h-hug y-y-you?” She only asked because when she hugged the closed book, Ford would be unable to talk. Please do. Mabel carefully closed the journal and hugged him like a teddy bear. Mabel cried, spilling about everything. Not just about the insults, but over the loss of her parents, over Grandpa Shermie’s death, over being lost and scared and possibly never seeing Fiddleford again. Mabel tried not to cry on Ford’s pages, but she noticed a drop falling into the book when she began to pull away and she quickly flicked through the pages to try to find her mistake. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” She cried. On a page, Ford quickly wrote, Don’t be sorry. Water does not damage me the way it does other books. I know you must be tired of reading this, but you just reminded me of Stanley. Mabel wiped her nose on her sleeve. “I did?” He used to cry on my open pages, ashamed and overcome with guilt. Still does sometimes. I do not mind; on the contrary, I am glad to be able to wipe your tears away. Mabel smiled, but still cried. She laid the journal open on the table and laid her little head on him, like he was a pillow, as she continued to cry. Out of the corner of her eye, the girl saw more comforting words on the pages. Don’t you worry, my dear. One day a boy will come along and have great interest in you and treat you right. “Th-There’s one boy,” Mabel whimpered, thinking of Gideon, “But he’s creepy. I told him I don’t like him and he won’t quit asking me out.” Shall I tell Stanley and send him in this boy’s direction? Mabel hiccuped a laugh. “N-No, that’s okay.” Regardless, one day your own prince will meet you and love you and love every part of you. Mabel cried a little harder, spilling more tears on the pages that were instantly soaked away. He and Stan were such amazing friends. She would do anything for them. “Don’t worry. I’ll help you and Stan break the curse.” She wept. “And when you’re human again, I give you lots of hugs and wipe away your tears.” Ford’s next words were very scraggly and a little hard to read. That would be lovely. ~~~~~~~~~~ The next day, Mabel was in the ballroom. She and Dipper were done cleaning, but she decided that she should sweep one more time, just in case. As she did, Melody played a soft tune while the girl sang a made-up song. “They'll be human again, oh yes human again, when a girl finally sets them all free. Cheeks a-blooming again, they're assuming again, they'll resume their long-lost joie de vivre. They'll be playing again, holidaying again, and we're praying it's ASAP. They’ll push and they’ll shove, they will all fall in love and finally be human again!” Mabel was soon dancing around with her broom, tapping her shoes and singing and having fun. Dipper and Stan, having just finished another fighting lesson, found her and were amused. Mabel ended with a dip of her broom and said, “Thanks.” “Don’t mention it.” The broom said and hopped away. “Nice to see this room being put to good use.” Stan quipped. “Hey!” Mabel said, getting an idea. “Why don't we use it?! We worked so hard to make it nice, what if we dressed up after dinner and had a dance party together! We can sing and dance together, it’ll be fun!” Stan chuckled and shook his head. “Sweetie, you do not want to hear this voice singing, trust me.” “Aw, c’mon,” Mabel begged. “How about it, Dip-Dip? Am I a genius or what?” “More like or what.” Dipper teased and then had to endure a punch on the shoulder. “But yeah, I think that sounds like fun.” “OH! We can even wear fancy clothes! We are in a castle! It’ll be so much fun! And I bet Ford would want to come!” “You’re crazy, kids,” Stan laughed, but smiled down at them with his hands on his hips. “But I like your gumption.” “I don’t know what that word means, but thank you.” “Alright, alright,” The beast smiled with twinkling eyes and asked, “You want a dance, you’ve got one! We could all use one. Tell Grenda to make you two clothes fit for a prince and princess, and after dinner we’ll all come back here for a dance.” The kids cheered and jumped around, high-fiving and running off to tell Grenda. Stan smiled proudly and left to get ready as well. Grenda wasn’t the only one busy that day. It seemed like all the servants were encouraged by the small makeshift party to make the castle look better. Soos and Wendy worked together to gather a team together to clean the whole castle from top to bottom. Candy had the kitchen fix a delicious meal and Grenda and her girls put forth their best effort for the new clothes. Even Pacifica the mirror found it in here to compliment the kids’ appearances. “Not bad, peasants. You clean up nice.” A dance. Ford wrote while Stan dried his fur, having just emerged from the tub. What a wonderful idea! You always were - dare I say it - a party animal. “Sweet Lord, Sixer,” Stan grumbled as he shook his long gray hair dry with a towel, his muscular chest exploded, free from his usual shirt. “It wasn’t even my idea, it was the kids’.” Stan about to disappear to get dressed, but he read his brother’s message first. Those children mean a lot to you, don’t they? Stan smiled softly and disappeared behind his cover for privacy. “Kinda a stupid question for a genius to ask, but yeah. Yeah, they’re good kids. It’ll… it’ll be hard to say goodbye.” Goodbye? What do you mean? When Stan peeked and saw those words, he sighed and said darkly, “Face it, Ford. Those kids won’t be around much longer. Soon enough that Fiddlenerd guy or whatever is gonna find them and take them home where they belong. They’ll finally be with their family again.” Ford’s pages were blank for awhile as Stan slowly got dressed. For being the “smart” twin, he had failed to think that far ahead. Stanley, they’ll come back. When Stan emerged, fully dressed in all but his top red coat, he shook his head at his brother’s words. “I doubt it. It’s dangerous in the woods. Once they leave they might never find this place again. I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but you should enjoy having them around while we’ve got a chance.” The sounds of Soos’ approach ended the conversation prematurely. “The little dudes are ready, dudes.” The hammer informed. “Thanks, Soos.” Stan said and picked up Ford and closed him. “Brave faces, Sixer.” Stan stood at the bottom of the stairs with Ford in his right arm and against his chest, his left tucked behind him. He was having a deja vu moment from standing to greet guests of the parties back in the day. Stan could hear giggling from the kids as they readied themselves, and soon walked down, the boy leading the girl. Stan’s jaw dropped, showing his sharp teeth. Dipper had left his hat behind, his hair just long enough to be tied back with a blue ribbon. He wore a strapping blue suit with gold trim, much like Stan’s suit (except his won was red), and he smiled proudly at his sister, at his right arm. Mabel grinned down at her friends, standing in a beautiful pink gown, definitely Grenda’s finest piece of work to date. She had short sleeves that fell off her shoulders and the dress ruffled pleasantly, just the right height. What’s more, her headband was gone and she wore a back-crown of pink flowers that matched her dress. Ford could feel Stan’s chest swelling with pride. Stan smiled as the kids walked down the stairs, and when they touched the floor, Stan bowed to them. Mabel and Dipper let go of each other and bowed low respectfully at their hosts. Then they all burst into giggles over the sophisticated nature and hurried to the ballroom. Not only Melody the piano, but every musical instrument in the castle was playing for the small party. Stan put Ford on a musician’s stand, open, so he could see and talk. Mabel took Dipper by both hands and they began to waltz together. Stan blinked in pleasant marvel that peasants could dance so well without any formal instruction. Holding hands rather than hips and arms, they laughed and spun. Mabel even lifted their held hands and spun Dipper. Stan laughed and Mabel skipped to him and grabbed his paws. “C’mon, don’t hug the wall!” She giggled and pulled him further onto the dancefloor. Stan waltzed with Mabel, Dipper smiling and watching. He was nervous at first, but the kids melted his worries away and Stan happily led Mabel in a dance. Soon she broke away and Dipper hopped in, both men unashamed to dance together. Then Mabel and Dipper danced. The trio were judging each other, taking turns, and then at the climax of the song they all held hands in a circle and spun and twirled until Stan hoisted them up and sat them on his shoulders. They laughed as the music stopped and they could see Ford writing. Bravo! Magnifique! Bravo, Dipper and Mabel! Well done, Stanley! “Another one!” Mabel cheered as the band of self-playing instruments began to play again. Stan put her and Dipper down and Mabel rushed to Ford, tenderly picking him up and closing him. “Here, you should have a turn, too.” Mabel bowed to the book and then hugged him close to her chest and did a simple two-step with him, not wanting to risk any pages flying out or dropping him. Stan smiled at the girl  dancing with his brother and he called, “Looking great, pumpkin!” “Thanks!” Mabel replied. Stan took Dipper’s hands and they danced, this time more crazy and less traditional. Stan even showed the boy his favorite cocky-dance and Dipper laughed and did it, too. For another hour, the party went on. Ford was mostly placed on the music-stand, explaining he liked it best to watch, and soon Mabel’s feet ached and Dipper was short of breath. All of them hot and sweaty, they went out to the huge balcony with Ford to cool down. Stan sat Ford on the polished stone and Dipper and Mabel sat with them, smiling with red cheeks. “Having fun, knuckleheads?” Stan asked. “Yeah,” Mabel breathed with a smile. “Thank you so much! We always have so much fun with you.” Stan ignored the heat in his face by changing the subject. “Who taught you two how to dance, anyway?” “Fiddleford.” Mabel said. “I used to step on his toes a lot and Dip-Dip here had no rhythm.” And she gently elbowed him. Stan, on the other hand, noticed how withdrawn Dipper was and how he was looking out at the forest below them. “What’s the matter, kid?” He asked gently. Dipper didn’t want to ruin the fun, but something heavy was on his heart. He gave Stan a sorrowful look and said, “I miss him. I just wish… I wish we knew if he was okay.” Mabel sagged a little, like a flower with no water, and took his hand. Stan’s ears drooped and he looked away, thinking about the situation. Maybe he should try to find Fiddleford again… wait. “I think I know just the guy that can help.” And he smiled down at the journal. “Ford?” Dipper asked. “Can you tell us where Fiddleford is?” Stan opened the journal. No. The kids were crestfallen again. “Oh.” But I can show you. Ford wrote, searching. Look at my hand. Stan closed the journal and the golden six-fingered hand shined before showing a reflection of Fiddleford. The kids gasped in horror as he was huddled by an old tree, coughing hoarsely, pale and freezing in the snow with a broken arm. Mabel’s eyes instantly filled with tears. “Fiddleford! Oh no! He needs help!” “What do we do?!” Dipper asked. Stan had no idea what to do. He opened the journal for an answer and found a map being drawn on a page. On the opposite page, words formed. This will show you the way to your guardian. Take it. “We can’t rip…” But before Dipper could finish, the page fell out of the journal and onto the floor. Ford had intentionally drawn it on the page he could feel falling out. Go. Was the only word left, and it did not fade away. Dipper folded the map and pocketed it in his coat. Stan looked down at Ford, doing some quick thinking. Stan saw no possible way of breaking the curse. No one would ever love Stan. The kids were about to leave and they were never coming back. If he couldn’t break the curse, maybe he could set Ford free, even if it meant they would never see each other again. Stan closed the book and held him out to the children. “Here. Take Stanford with you.” The kids stared at the journal, the golden hand twinkling in the moonlight. “What?!” Mabel shook her head. “We can’t do that! You’re a family, and family sticks together!” “Take him,” Stan said firmly. “You three should have each other. You can always look back and remember me, if you want to.” “No!” Mabel shook her head. “We won’t have to, cuz we’ll see you again! Soon! Once Fiddleford is okay, we’ll come visit you!” “Yeah man,” Dipper jumped in. “What are you acting like it’s goodbye for? We’ll see each other again, don’t worry. Come on, sis, let’s save Fiddleford.” Mabel ran with Dipper away to go save their only family left. Stan watched them go, his brother in his hands. He wasn’t sure what to believe. ~~~~~~~~~~ Gideon pounded the bed with his little chubby fists before settling down. It wasn’t fair! Crazy Old Man McGucket nearly got everyone in town lost in the woods and was now missing, too, all for nothing! Mabel was out there, probably ran away, and Gideon had no way to get to her! The whole thing was stupid, stupid, stupid! The ten-year-old soon relaxed, exhausted from the work, and fell asleep. It was a starry night sky, nothing more, nothing less. Gideon looked around and froze when a collection of stars made a triangle constellation. The constellation shined bright and in a flash appeared a triangle with one eye, a top hat and a bowtie, twirling a cane. “Well, well, Short Stack,” It said to the boy. “Having a little lady trouble, huh?” At once, Gideon’s fears were gone when he thought this thing might actually listen to him. “Yes! Mabel loves me, but something’s always been in the way!” “Right you are, but don’t worry, kid.” The triangle said. “I know exactly where she is! Get this, she and her brother were kidnapped by a dangerous monster, a ferocious beast, in the woods. The castle’s haunted and nearly impossible to find, but you’re destined to take this ugly beast down and save your damsel in distress.” “I KNEW IT!” Gideon cheered and punched the air. “Where’s my marshmallow?!” “Hold it, let’s shake on it, first.” Bill said and held out a hand that was engulfed in blue flames. “If I help you, you gotta agree to help me later in return.” “Deal.” And Gideon shook his hand. When Gideon woke up, in the same hand he shook, was a map as clear as a bell on how to find the monster. He snorted a laugh and got up to gather an angry mob.

~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note: Aw, geez. Lots to say. First off, can you imagine how PISSED I was not only that the live-action movie didn’t have Human Again, but on Disney+ that scene is deleted too! I might be the only one, but I LOVE that whole cleaning musical number and seeing Belle help Beast re-learn how to read. (I decided not to do that since Stan’s been practicing reading for over thirty years.) So, yeah, I put the song in here and adjusted it a bit. And yes, the twins cleaning the ballroom was forever foreshadowing, not just the dancing scene, but what the kids were doing to their new friends.

I wanted to give both kids what we were deprived of in the canon GF show: Dipper and Stan bonding and Ford and Mabel bonding. Yes, we got Boyz Crazy and the Last Mabelcorn, but I’m greedy and say that’s not enough. Also, Mabel’s dress, according to @artsycrapfromsai​, is supposed to be a fusion of her dress in the Northwest Manor and Belle’s dress, which I LOVE! (plz will someone draw it)

And now… yeah, I guess I can’t talk much about the cliffhanger without getting spoilery, huh? All I’ll stress is how many of the townsfolk were tired and cold and frustrated over the failed rescue mission when Gideon was throwing his little tantrum and that factor may play in later. Like why it takes so long to gather up a mob.

[queenmuzz]

Nebulae

Something that’s been poking around in my brain, possibly the first chapter to a future story, possibly just a one shot, but seeing the wonderful drawings people have been sending me have given me the motivation to write this instead of writing the Wormhole chapter Also you can read it here on Ao3

You were putting the finishing orders on the bookshop order list when you heard the familiar thud of the front door, and the shuffle of shoes and jacket being removed.  It wasn’t Dante, there was something sloppy, but flashy in the way he did it, nor was it Vergil, who’s movements were deliberate and steady. Nor could it be Alex, who was sitting in her room, listening to music (you could hear the faint thuds as she danced to music only she could hear on her headphones) No, it had to be Nero, which was odd, since you expected him to be still in Redgrave, in college right now.  One more semester, and the young man would be finished with his schoolwork.  

“Mom?  You home?”, your son’s voice rang out, confirming your suspicions.

“Yes!” you called out, “in the kitchen.”

A few moments later he appeared, and before he could say anything, you got up and gave him your best enveloping hug.  (It was impossible now, no longer was he the small boy, he had grown into a tall strapping young man).

“When did you arrive back?” you said after letting him go, as you headed to the cupboard.  “You must be famished, I think I managed to hide some of your favourite cookies from your uncle… oh no… oh wait, here they are!”  You reached a fake can of peas and unscrewed the lid.

“Just got back into town an hour or so ago, I hitched a ride with this chick who’s studying engineering, Nico.”  He attempted to not look too eager to grab the lemon macaron, and nibbled on it impatiently.  

“How’s school going?” you asked as he finished it and he took another one.

“Good, gotta one more assignment to do before exams,” he licked the crumbs off his lips and looked around, almost nervously “is dad home?”

“No, he’s out on a job with your uncle, it’s just me and your sister home right now,” you watched the tension ease out of him, “Nero, is something the matter?”

“Nah, it’s nothing major...it’s just,” he chewed thoughtfully, “well, I have to study and take photos of a city with a consistent architectural style and I figured… well, Fortuna would be the perfect place for that.  I mean, I’ve seen photos of it, and I think it would be a perfect place to analyze, and to be inspired by.  It’s just…” he took a sip of the glass of milk you offered him, “you know how dad is with that place, even if it’s been over a decade since they attacked us, and we’ve heard nothing from them since then.”

“Ah,” understanding dawned on you, “yes, I suppose your father would be rather cross, even if I think he’s overly paranoid.   You can’t really blame him though.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, “But he really needs to stop being a mother hen. I’m twenty five years old, a lot older than he was when he went there,”

“He only acts that way because he cares about you, Nero” you said as you took a delicate yellow macaron for yourself, “but, if it has any weight, you have my blessing to go.”

So surprised at your sudden agreement, he almost dropped the cookie, “Really?  You mean it?”

“I wouldn’t say something like that if I didn’t truly mean it, Nero, besides,” your smile was hidden behind your cup of tea that you nonchalantly took a sip from, “I’m certain it’s not just the buildings that interest you, but perhaps that young lady you’ve been corresponding with?”

Now the cookie was dropped, and it rolled off the table onto the floor, before coming to a stop in front of the fridge.  Your son spluttered,  a wave of crimson flooding his face revealing his true intentions.”

“No!... I mean, yeah… she invited me over to visit her and her brother, but I swear I am going to study architecture, I figured ‘Hey, two birds, one stone’ right?”

You chuckled softly as you set your cup down with a quiet tink, “Nero, even if seeing this girl was your only reason, I wouldn’t stop you.  You two have been corresponding for what, seven years?  It’s high time that you meet in person.”

“Well, it’s actually not just ‘two birds with one stone’, more like ‘three birds one stone’”, he clarified and you looked at him quizzically.  “The third reason I want to go to Fortuna is the reason I wanted to talk to you about it.” He looked even more nervous.  “I wanted to look for my birth mother.”

Now it was your turn to be shocked.  In all your years of living with them, the total amount of information Vergil or Nero had spoken about the mysterious woman could be written on the inside of a ping pong ball.  And you’d never felt the need to inquire, even though sometimes you wondered about her.  Was she a woman forced by circumstance to give him up?

Nero read your face and attempted to explain, “I’m not trying to form some mystical mother-son bond with her… hell, I might not even try to speak to her.  I just want to know who she was, and why she gave me up.”

“Nero,” you placed a comforting hand on his, “you know that this has a good chance of this ending up being painful for you.  Fortuna has a whole different culture than here, and people aren’t very accepting of those who don’t follow their version of morality”

“Yeah, I know,” he straightened up in his chair, “I just want to know, and if she was forced to give me up,  to let her know that I don’t hold it against her, that leaving me at the Orphanage was possibly the best thing she could have done for me.  Or,” his face darkened slightly, “if she didn’t want me, I’ll be able to tell her that I didn’t need her anyways, I have my own family that I cherish and love.”  He looked down at your delicate hand, now dwarfed by his strong ones.  It seemed like a few hours ago that it was a small child’s holding it, and just yesterday it was a tiny infant’s fist gripping onto your little finger.  “But no matter what,” he held your hand, and raised it up, forcing you to look up into his brilliant eyes, “You were with me from nearly the very beginning, you were the one who cared for me when no one else would, you were the one that got me to my dad, and helped raise me to be who I am now.  You will always be my mother, first and best.”

You attempted to smile, to keep the tears from spilling down your cheeks at his confession.  “Oh Nero…” you both got up and he embraced you, and you held him tightly as he kissed the top of your head affectionately.  If you wanted to return it, you would have to yank him down to your level. “I’m so proud of you.. You have no idea how much that means to me.”

“Well,” he chuckled, “don’t let my uncle find this out I’m a momma’s boy, I got a reputation to keep.”

A faint, yet insistent honking sound from the front of the business broke the silence. “Ah shit,” Nero broke the hug and grabbed his bag, “Nico’s back already, I promised that I wouldn’t make her wait too long before we hit the ferry. I have to go.”

“And you were gonna leave without even your favourite sister a goodbye hug?”  a voice from the doorway caused the two of you to startle.   There, leaning against the doorframe, a devilish grin on her face, was Alex, twirling a keychain on her finger.

Nero rolled his eyes, “How long have you been eavesdropping?”

She placed her hands up in a defensive posture.  “Look, I smelled those lemon macarons I’ve been spending ages looking for, and oooh, don’t mind if I do.” quick as a flash, she yoinked one off the plate, “so that’s where you hid them, mom.  Anyways, I came downstairs to see such a touching scene.  Almost brought tears to my eyes.” she mimed wiping up her cheeks.  “But did I hear something about going to Fortuna?  Very interesting….” “Yeah, speaking of which, my ride’s waiting, I gotta go.”  He passed her, but her sharp teeth were fixed in a conniving smile.

“Would be a shame if I happened to mention where you were heading to dad…” she said nonchalantly, wiping off the remaining crumbs with the back of her hand.”  her brother froze in his tracks.

“You wouldn’t dare…” his voice lowered dangerously, but she ignored the threat (she had learned a long time ago that her big brother would never lay a hand on her)

“Well, I’m not as good at keeping secrets as mom,” she smiled innocently at you, “but… let’s say… you let me tag along, you wouldn’t have to worry about me spilling the beans, and I’m sure mom could create a decent cover story.”

Nero mulled it over before sighing, “fine…. as long as mom agrees” both of them looked to you as the final arbiter.

You smiled gently, “alright, as long as you call me when you arrive, and give me a call once a day to update me.”  

Alex did a victorious fist pump as she pulled a knapsack, and Leon from behind the doorway.  “Awwww yesss,”

“It’s not just gonna be a vacation, Lex, I got important things to do there,”

“Yeah, like smoochin’ your girlfriend”

“Oh shut up,”

“Well, at least you have me to keep you behaving,”

“For the love of… you’re as bad as Nico”

“I’ll take that as a compliment”

The two of them continue to  goodnaturedly bicker as they put on their shoes and coats, and within a few moments they were out the door, towards the still honking van who’s driver Nero was yelling at.  Before they both hopped in, (Nero managed to call out ‘Shotgun’, much to his sister’s dismay) the turned to you, and gave you a wave, before the van pulled out at an alarming speed.

You chuckled to yourself as the vehicle disappeared around the corner, before heading inside.  They had both grown up so fast, and even though they verbally sparred even more than the twins physically sparred, you knew that they would have each other’s back.

It was time for a new chapter to begin….

[paradise-of-guilty-pleasures]

Shattered Reflections {20}

[Helsa RP- Fanfic]

Fandom: Frozen

Genre: Post-Frozen/ Canon Divergence

- Hurt/Comfort, Drama, Romance

Pairing(s): Hans/Elsa, Kristoff/Anna

Previous Chapter: 19.Girls’ Night

A/N:

Prepare for Puns xD

20. Boys’ Night

While the sisters had a lovely tea party inside their pillow fort, the boys’ night out was continuing to be unsurprisingly uneventful. Kristoff had finished brushing Sven a while ago, and now the boys were stuck roaming around the courtyard, encircling it for what seemed like the millionth time. Olaf got bored fairly easily, so of course he tried to nullify his boredom himself the only way he knew how, by talking, practically non-stop, barely letting Kristoff get a word in edgewise. Olaf's virtually self-supporting conversation consisted of him rambling stories, spontaneously jumping into song, and (the part that actually required Kristoff to be present to answer them) curious questions. 

 "...magic, so I guess Elsa's like my mom, but kids seem to have both a mom and a dad, and they don't have magic --at least I don't think they do-- so it's got me thinking, how do people make babies without magic?" Olaf wondered curiously, it one of the countless questions he had asked that night.

Kristoff had always been a good listener, so he didn't mind the rambling. They could possibly have done other things, but Kristoff was at least vaguely aware of Hans' whereabouts and wanted to be sure he was nearby in case he was needed. He wasn't oblivious to boredom per se-- just too focused on everything else to process it. 

He just about choked when he tuned in to Olaf's question. He certainly made a sound like it, but he cleared his throat. 

"Why is this not the first time I've been asked that?" He asked, more to himself and his gods than anything. "It involves complex biology and is way more gross than you'd want it to be..." He started.

 "Oh look, we have company!" He changed the subject quickly and pointed out Hans and the Captain wandering home. In spite of the drinking, Hans seemed little more wobbly than he already had been with his injury. 

"Ahoy Admiral!" Kristoff called, just to draw attention and avoid the question from Olaf. 

"View Hallou!" Hans replied, curious what he was being hailed for. "The night is young and we are getting older." Hans joked dryly to the Captain, wandering to meet Kristoff and the party. "Well if it isn't the little snow-prince and the Arendelle royal cavalry. Good evening gentlemen. And I am counting the reindeer." He gave a respectful greeting gesture to all of them, perhaps especially the reindeer.

"I'm Sven," he introduced. He should at least be known by his name instead of just being 'the reindeer'. 

"Oh! Hans the Fool!" Olaf greeted, now completely sidetracked from the question he'd asked earlier. "Are you having a night out, as well?" Hans raised an eyebrow at Kristoff, more amused than perplexed, though there was plenty of that. 

"I am, little prince. Getting to know the Captain. It appears I'll be helping the Royal Guard with my sword. I'm a little more than a fool, I must admit. Shall we have the remains of a night out together? Telling stories and whatnot?" Hans' tone was always lighter and sweeter with Olaf, as anyone might be while working with children. Especially a fool.

Olaf's face brightened with glee at the notion of having Hans join them.

 "Yes! Let's do that!" Olaf exclaimed with excitement. He really did appreciate Hans' company, no offense to Kristoff and Sven, but having someone else that shared his enthusiasm, overjoyed Olaf. 

"If that's what you wish to do."

 "Good Evening," saluted the Captain, as he approached the group. "I see Westergaard's already inviting himself to join your party," he chuckled, already accustomed to his antics. "Is it alright to leave him in your hands?" He attentively asked Kristoff, almost as if he was watching over a puppy or a small child, instead of a grown man, a slightly drunken man, sure, but still. The Captain thought he should ask, Hans felt like he was his responsibility and he didn't impose anyone with that duty without their consent.

"Not going to join us, Captain? Just handing over Gaoler duty?" Hans joked dryly. He honestly meant it as a joke, but perhaps it did speak to his self-image. 

"We'll be fine, Captain. In spite of Anna's wariness, I'm pretty sure I can handle this driftwood log, and if he gives me trouble, I can always pitch him back out to sea." Kristoff joked, nudging Hans with his foot. 

"Oho, the Reindeer Lord has jokes. One of us is the Queen's fool, be careful who you challenge." Hans joked in return. He truly wore that stupid made-up title with pride. But then, Kristoff had his own made-up title, perhaps it was only fair.

"Hate to be an old fogey, but I'm afraid I've had enough excitement for one night, all I want to do now is get as much rest as I can to try to avoid having a headache in the morning," he said as he yawned. "I think my ears are still ringing from all that singing," the Captain twisted his pinky in his ear as if trying to dislodge something. "Keeping up with you isn't easy, you've completely drained me, boy. I need to hand over the reins and have someone else keep a watchful eye on you, just because of your capriciousness, and for your own well-being. Wouldn't want to find you floating in the fountain in the morning. I lost track of everything that happened tonight at the tavern, but if I recall correctly, I'm sure at one point you suggested doing a balancing act on a chair." 

"Oh, I've seen him do that once," Olaf interposed. 

"Of course, you've done it before, why am I not surprised?" The captain said with a disapproving head shake as he brought a hand up to his face. He let out a sigh. "Anyway, thank you for keeping tabs on him Lord Kristoff," he gave a nod in appreciation. "Fair warning though, his mood seems to be as fickle as the sea."

Hans laughed. "You flatter me, captain. And you need more practice at drinking if you plan to keep up with me. I was still sober at that suggestion." Hans grinned wryly. "And at the singing. I just like singing." He hummed. "Sleep, old man. See you in the morning, we'll try to keep tomorrow quiet then, hm?" Hans thumped the Captain on the shoulder, as good mates do. 

 "What else would we expect? Fickle moods seem to be all we know of him for sure." Kristoff pointed out. But he smiled and shook his head a little. "Tag me in next time, we'll see how I do at holding my drinks against a sea captain."

"I'd say bragging about your sobriety when acting like you were isn't something you should be proud of boy, but you already dub yourself a fool," he chuckled. "Indeed. Next time you're welcome to put him in his place," the Captain affirmed with a nod. "Goodnight gentleman, hope you enjoy the rest of your night-- and you don't cause too much trouble," he nudged Hans back. 

"I'm off to bed. I bid you all adieu." After one more reverence, the Captain took his leave.

 "Can I go to the drinking party next time too?" Olaf childishly asked. He wasn't aware of the alcohol involved, instead he was envisioning some sort of manly tea party. "It sounds like fun!"

Hans laughed a little. "Maybe when you're much older, little prince." He teased. "The men say things we oughtn't say around younger folks, and act more like fools than we ever should." He observed. "But what the captain doesn't know is, a fool is wiser than he seems, and a wise man more foolish than wise men ever think. The wisest man is the one who takes himself for a fool, even around fools." Hans smiled a little, playing wordplay games. He always liked puns and wordplay. 

"This is like that riddle, 'the wisest man is he who understands that he understands nothing'." Kristoff hummed. "Hans likes to say silly things, and worse, sometimes I imagine he says things that get him into trouble." Kristoff observed. 

"Aye, and out of it. More often out than in, but when in, then in big." He observed. It was a statement one really had to track to understand, but that seemed like the theme. Drunken philosophy night with the strangest assortment of characters around. "So, what are we all wandering about for?" Hans hummed. 

"The ladies are having a girls’ night, so I was on patrol to keep an eye out that you weren't up to trouble." Kristoff answered honestly. 

"What a good guard you are. You've certainly done that job." Hans hummed. 

"Out drinking with the Captain of the Guard? I bet that was a wild night." 

"Cards, drinks, and encouraging positive feelings toward myself. It's so easy, as if my last visit to Arendelle never happened. Anna is thus far the most sensible person I've seen." Hans admitted, a bit more soberly. 

"You're not upset?" 

"Oh, deeply. But that's sort of the point, isn't it." Hans didn't seem too bothered, just logical.

"Aw," Olaf groaned when he was denied his request to partake in the future fun only because he was deemed 'too young'. People kept telling him, 'when you're older Olaf', but when was that going to happen? He was a walking talking snowman, not an actual child though he was very much one in essence. Olaf tried to follow Hans and Kristoff's conversation, but got a bit lost in their philosophical talk. Hans smiled a little at Olaf. "Just as well, I don't think it would appeal as much to you, yet. Not really. In much the same way that politics only makes sense and isn't boring when you get older, it likely wouldn't be quite the same for you as for us." He assured him. He almost instinctively patted Olaf's head, perhaps forgetting that he was made of ice and snow.

 "You two seem chummy." Kristoff remarked, amused. 

"Of course. He's kept me company while I've been unable to walk around and chatter quite so much. I don't talk very much at home, it's good to be here and be able to say the things I think. Oh, Olaf, did you ever figure out what the meaning of my story was, that day of the raid? I suppose I never finished it. Predictable, but the best stories are the ones that take what you know and turn it upside-down. Like an hourglass, it renews the story." He may not have been drunk, but Hans certainly wasn't sober either. He was prone enough to meander (both in words and walk) while sober, and drinking only exacerbated it as he wandered off toward grass, just to walk on something more natural than cobble. Hans loved adventure, even if it was only venturing off the cobblestones.

Olaf laughed a little at being patted on the head. "Hmm...the meaning of the story?" he pondered. "I think it means that even the Mirror Prince had his own side to the story," answered the little snowman. It was obvious even to him what story Hans had been trying to tell him that day. "You know, I have my own retelling of that story too and so does Sven, don't you Sven?"

"Oh, I would wager you do." Hans agreed, sounding intrigued. "So you've figured out that I'm not just Hans the Fool, then?" He hummed, with a little smile. "I keep picking up titles these days, sooner or later I won't know what to do with them all. I wonder if they can be recycled. Someone else can be a prince, I'll keep Fool and Admiral and let the others slide." He joked, all lighthearted for the moment-- perhaps purely because Olaf was there. 

"Do pray tell, tell your version of the story? You can be quite a storyteller all your own." Hans remarked, his tone light and sweet. Kristoff wondered if that was what he was always like with children-- as Hans seemed under the firm delusion that Olaf was more of a strange child than a 'snowman given life through strange ice magic'. Kristoff supposed that was the better way to view things. Would he be like that with his own children? If Hans ever chose to have any, anyway. That would be its own pot of problems when they got there. Kristoff was glad that wasn't his problem-- but lately he had been thinking a lot more about families and family life. One could hardly blame him for thinking about the way Hans thought. Especially since he seemed to show a different face for every combination of company he might keep. Sometimes it seemed to change by the moment.

"Oh, yeah, everybody wouldn't be making such a fuss about you if you were just a fool, but I do prefer Hans the Fool," he giggled. The young snowman's face lit up at the invitation to share his account of the day he was created and the events that followed. 

"Okay, be prepared, I'm going to start from the beginning, well, my beginning since I wasn't there for the rest of it. This story starts up on the North Mountain where Elsa created me using her magic..." Olaf was very thorough in the retelling of his story. He told Hans how Anna, Kristoff and Sven freaked out similarly (or even more so) than he did when they first met him as well. He went into detail about everything (even the unimportant stuff) from how he got his nose, his love for warm hugs, mistaking Kristoff for Sven and of course his love for summer. Olaf continued his explanation about how he led his new friends up the North Mountain to find Elsa to bring back summer. Of course he couldn't gloss over he got impaled. And trivial facts like how he waited for exactly one minute before he joined Anna to talk to Elsa at the Ice Palace. How Elsa herself was also a bit shocked that she'd brought him to life. He described the sisters' interaction after Elsa stuck Anna and how they got kicked out by Marshmallow, only to have Anna aggravate him shortly after. He couldn't leave out how he bravely volunteered to distract and hold Marshmallow back to no avail and that they all ultimately fell off the cliff. Olaf didn't skip out on any of the awkwardness. He went on to talk about how they all ventured to Kristoff's 'Love Experts', and how he thought Kristoff was totally crazy talking to rocks he called his family until they revealed themselves to be trolls. Also that he figured out his name was Kristoff not Sven. Olaf relayed the full extent of their visit with the trolls, attempted wedding and all and how they went to go find Hans (for a kiss) after they were told that 'only true love thaw a frozen heart'.

He explained how he ended up getting separated from the group and that he was the one that had found Anna locked up after Hans abandoned her. Olaf recounted how he almost melted trying to warm Anna up. He was quite proud of his 'Love Expert' advice that made Anna realize that Kristoff really cared for her. Then it was on to how the two of them managed to escape a freezing castle through a window and make it to the fjord. Olaf had gotten blown away by the storm and so the next thing he witnessed was Elsa embracing a frozen Anna on the fjord. Olaf expressed how devastating it was to think they lost Anna forever, but was happy when he was first to notice that Anna had in fact been saved, her frozen heart thawed by an act of true love different than the one they all had envisioned and that none of them had expected. He conveyed how delighted he was at the return of the summer once Elsa was able to control her powers, even though the sun had promptly begun to melt him, but thankfully Elsa kept him from melting. That was practically the end of his story about the events he'd observed, because after that he had been too distracted and overjoyed, by his own personal flurry that allowed him to enjoy summer, to pay attention to everything else that was going around him, like Hans getting punched in the face by Anna. The little snowman was very animated with his explanation, transforming himself and acting out the parts as he went along, he was a very theatrical storyteller even more so than Hans. 

"...and that's the story of how I spent my first day of life."

Hans laughed through much of it, amused by Olaf's transformations and animated behavior, and all of his excitement. 

"You lived quite an adventurous life, and all in one day! Many people would be jealous, and I would venture to say you have lived the most adventurous life of any snowman. I wonder if Marshmallow would say the same? I very much remember Marshmallow, nearly killed me on the ice bridge, but what an adventure that was!" Hans hummed. He seemed quite fond of Olaf, and only more so with time. 

"You remind me of someone, somehow, but I'm not quite sure..."

"Yourself." Kristoff proposed.

 "How, exactly? We're not exactly alike." Hans pointed out. 

"You both laugh in the face of death, love jokes and stories, change to adapt to your environment, and everyone underestimates what you're thinking." Kristoff gestured to both of them.

 "...Well perhaps, but there's no need to insult him." Hans scoffed, tone a little flatter. 

"Oh shut up, I bet he's what you would have been like if you were raised in a happy family, without whatever screwed you up." Kristoff wouldn't let Hans deflect this one. And granted, perhaps Hans would have been a little annoying. Most children were. Olaf truly was just a child. 

"Hm. That may be so, but for once I don't find much merit in exploring hypotheticals. I can't imagine that alternative history. I'll have to just enjoy the one we're in, instead." His tone was perhaps a little less pleasant. If anything, he seemed a little more protective of Olaf, after that. He didn't want anyone to think they were like him. He was one of the disappointments, a prince turned treasoner and fool. He was not an example to follow.

"Ah, yes, an adventure of a lifetime, those were the days. My, how time flies." Olaf said in an almost reminiscent tone. "I don't know if Marshmallow would say the same, he's not much of a talker. But what I can say for him is that sure mellowed out since the last time," Olaf laughed at his own joke.

"You both love wordplay..." Kristoff added, amused, as Hans laughed at Olaf's joke. Hans was probably the only one who would laugh at that joke. 

"Your lifetime is only just beginning! You also lived through the assault on the castle, remember, there's plenty of adventuring time left." Hans assured, then he brightened up more. "Ah! I'm out of the castle, I can visit my horse in the stables! Would you all mind if we went? I haven't seen him in... probably a month? I'm not sure how long, now. Two?" He turned to go that way without waiting. Whether Kristoff wanted him to go or not, Hans wanted to see his horse. Kristoff shrugged and moved to follow. He was planning to end the night there anyway, and may as well let the man see his buddy.

"Oh! You have a horse? Is it a boy or a girl? What's it's name? Do you talk to them like Kristoff does to Sven," Olaf asked an abundant amount of questions as they headed back towards the stables.

Hans chuckled. "It's a boy, his name is Sitron. I talk to him, but he doesn't talk back." Hans assured with a little laugh. When he made it there, he jogged toward the horse, ignoring the pain in his side. Sitron seemed happy to see him, too, making happy sounds and tossing his mane. Hans threw his arms around his horse's neck and petted him. He was deeply fond of his horse, and they clearly missed each-other. Once again, it was easy to forget he was a prince, once. Now he was a man who had little but a mixed reputation, and a horse. A horse he was very glad to see again. 

"Hello you, I'll have to go riding again soon, they haven't been giving you enough exercise, hm?" He cooed to the horse, petting its nose. "I never thought I was going to see you again." While he kept his tone relatively neutral, it was just because there were people around. He had deeply missed his horse. He had few other friends.

Sitron was indeed ecstatic to see Hans again, it had been far too long that they were about. He gently trotted with excitement at the notion of being ridden again. His tail was raised in excitement and his ears were facing forward in full attention. Of course he had to sniff and nuzzle Hans with his nose. There was no doubt Fjord Horse had deeply missed his friend as well.  

"Oh, so that's Sitron, handsome horse, I was wondering where he'd come from, looks like he really missed you," smiled the little snowman. "Maybe you should groom him," he suggested, seeing that Kristoff had brushed Sven to start off the night and the reindeer seemed to enjoy it, so. "I know Sven likes it a lot when Kristoff does that to him."

"You know, I was thinking that myself." Hans agreed, immediately rolling up his sleeves and looking for the supplies to groom. Kristoff handed some over so Hans wouldn't have to think about it, and Hans happily took to tending to the horse as if he did that all the time. Maybe he had been a prince, but he had been a prince who wanted to be useful. "Ah, the lemon's turning into a lemon cake. You need to exercise." Hans teased, patting his horse's side to indicate that the horse was getting a little chubby. Still, he was glad his horse was being overfed, rather than underfed. He was the horse of a treasonist, after all. "Are they taking good care of you? You look well-groomed at least. No parade horse, but there's no neglect in Her Majesty's stables." Hans observed, more muttering at the horse than really talking to him as he groomed.

Sitron whinnied to show he was content. He was being treated well of course but he sure did miss going out for rides instead of being cooped up in his stall most the day. 

"Did you name him yourself or was he named that when you got him?" Wondered the curious snowman. "He doesn't look like a sour horse to me," he commented since he didn't understand why he was named after a lemon.

Hans chuckled. "I did, I was a boy and boys do silly things. He's got a slightly yellow-y tint and it reminded me of lemon meringue, especially with his mane." He hummed. "Certainly not a sourpuss, Sitron has been my friend for years. Sometimes the only one I felt like I could talk to, since he can't talk about whatever I tell him. Secrets are a resource in my homeland, they're hard to keep and valuable for it. No matter how mild, it seems it can be a danger. So if I only told my horse, I never had to fear it getting to anyone else. And what does a horse care what I have to say? He's a horse. He cares that I feed him, groom him, ride him, and make sure his shoes are on right." Of course, the stable hands handled the shoes in Arendelle. Not that he would usually shoe a horse, but he liked to at least make sure they were taken care of.

"Your homeland sounds like an awful place if you can't talk to anyone but your horse," remarked Olaf. "No offense to you lemon meringue, I'm sure you're a great listener."

"It is." Hans assured, nonchalantly. "Our family and staff have a lot of petty squabbles and teasing that tends to go... overboard. I'm the youngest, I get a lot more trouble than the rest. That's why I left for anywhere else. The sea is a great big 'anywhere else' to me. When I couldn't sail, I rode. As far as possible, somewhere as wild as possible. Often to a beach or a shore, sometimes to explore some forest. A horse makes for a fine friend, but it does lead to much less conversation." Hans admitted, focusing on his grooming. Sitron didn't seem offended, it was the truth.

"You and Kristoff are a lot alike when it comes to finding fine friends in animals, yet Sven does seem to converse more than Sitron. But then again Kristoff isn't much of a conversationalist when it comes to people, I've heard him sing that he thinks 'reindeer are better than people' when playing his lute," mentioned the childish snowman. "I think it's because he was raised by rock trolls," he tried whispering the last part.

"Aye, you could say that." Kristoff admitted, amused as he folded his arms and looked down at Olaf with a raised eyebrow.

 Hans laughed a little. 

"Maybe he's not wrong. A reindeer never committed a coup." He pointed out lightly. "Everything's a matter of perspective, I think. Perhaps the rock trolls have a better perspective." He paused a bit. "Did I know about the rock trolls? I think I didn't. That's weird. But not the weirdest thing I've seen, I hope one day to meet them, then. If only to say I've done it." He hummed a little bit at that. He liked experiences for the sake of them. Who needed reasons to see or do something new?

"You should definitely meet them, the rock trolls are fun, very nice, wise and they really like telling embarrassing stories about Kristoff," Olaf said, completely ignoring the look Kristoff gave him. 

"Maybe they'll do the fixer upper thing with you and Elsa, it looked like a lot of fun," he said, not really aware that it had resulted in the trolls attempting to wed Kristoff and Anna last time or was he? It was hard to tell will Olaf sometimes.

Hans looked curious, and chuckled a little. 

"Afraid I'm not a big fan of embarrassing stories from family." He admitted. "Too familiar with that bitter pill, myself. I'm not sure I know what you're talking about, but, it's probably for the best if we don't. I'm the Queen's fool, but I won't flatter myself to think we'll be spending much time together." He waved the thought aside, with a horse brush in-hand. Kristoff gave Olaf a curious look, wondering if Olaf was thinking the same thing he was about that. Olaf could be dim sometimes, but he -like Anna- had a habit of hitting upon the important things without knowing it.

For the first time in forever Olaf was uncharacteristically taciturn. 

 "Oh," he voiced in a slightly dispirited tone. He looked up at Kristoff a bit bemused.

Kristoff held the silence for a moment, a slow smirk showing up, identical to the one he wore when he wanted to tell Olaf all about how snow melts in the heat, but Anna stopped him. 

 "Flatter yourself, idiot." Kristoff shifted over to swat Hans playfully on the back of the head. Hans ducked, perhaps a little more than he needed to, receiving some small amount of the swat anyway. 

 "Excuse me?" He seemed uncertain whether he should be offended, or amused, but he looked a little more defensive either way. 

"You think she visits just to make sure your wounds don't rot? That's what doctors are for. Anna may not like you, but Elsa does, at least as a friend. You might hate yourself, but you're the only one. And maybe Anna, but she'll forgive in time, if I know her at all. I won't tell you to get over it, but at least get the picture; you're staying in the castle, you're going to see the Queen plenty. Still, probably best you don't see my folks and her at the same time, they're likely to marry you both." Kristoff joked dryly. 

 Hans laughed, a somewhat nervous laugh. But he didn't know how to respond, so he focused on brushing Sitron, instead. 

 "Let's talk about something else." He was quick to press the conversation away. Even if it was awkward, he would sooner hold an awkward silence than think about what Anna thought of him, or acknowledge that the Queen might like him. Somehow, both were painful.

Maybe the awkwardness now was karma for what happened earlier at the tavern. Kristoff had brought a wide smile back to the young snowman's face. 

 "You sure are a strange fellow," Olaf commented. Countless people would love to be in Elsa's good graces (especially since she still wasn't the most open person), but Hans seemed to think it was a bad thing, maybe he thought he didn't deserve that kind of attention, Olaf didn't quite understand and thought the former Prince was being silly, the title of Fool suit him quite well. He wasn't going to press him any further he saw Hans didn't seem too happy about the topic and Olaf preferred smiles to scowls. Of course Olaf couldn't bear the silence for too long, so he tried breaking it. He was an expert on changing the subject and going on random tangents. He didn't wish for Hans to stay silent, it just didn't feel right to him. 

 "Hey, Sven," he began "What do you call a reindeer with no eyes?" Olaf paused for a moment and Sven grunted. "What? You really don't know? I was only asking you cause you're a reindeer and I have no eye deer." He resorted to telling jokes, it was second nature to him. He’d much rather hear laughter than nothing at all.

Hans laughed quite suddenly at that joke, and rested his free hand on his face while he recovered from that one. 

 "Oh! That was a genuinely good one! it has layers." He did so love wordplay and puns. 

"Honestly, he has snow idea how to tell a good joke." Kristoff proposed. He liked Olaf's tactic. It worked a lot better. 

 "Snow thanks, Ice see what you're doing here." Hans retorted. They were probably going to be doing that a while.

And that they did. Once you start wordplay especially with people that are willing to continue it's a bit hard to stop. There were lots of snow and ice puns, of course, those were the easiest to make, as well as horse and reindeer ones, but the best kind of wordplay was undeniably the one that used their names.

  "I gotta Hans it to you, Sitron is looking more Hansome now that you brushed him," Olaf declared with a giggle. --

The puns continued for a long while, certainly long enough for Hans to finish tending to his horse and spending time with it. When it was finally time to leave, he gave his horse a fond farewell with reassurances that he would be back. Kristoff escorted him back to his room, just feeling as if that was now his duty, since the Captain of the Guard was gone-- and also he was the most sober one there (both of mind and body). 

By the time Elsa would have come to check on Hans, much later in the evening than she probably intended (because Girl Talk and catching up was simply too riveting), Hans had already decided to sleep, with an arm over his eyes and a leg hanging off the bed. Some people when they slept looked as if they had been laid to rest. Hans looked as if he had been thrown to rest, and he seemed perfectly comfortable with that fact. His hair was mussed and his collar rumpled, but only from the day's activity. And of course, he smelled a bit like rum and horse. It was sometimes easy to forget that he was an admiral. But not at that moment.

[houseofvans]

ART SCHOOL | INTERVIEW WITH JUSTINE JONES

Baltimore based artist and illustrator Justine Jones creates her vein of psychedelic fantasy horror drawings–filled with tiny black lines and an occasional pop of bright colors–which have been featured on the covers of Kobold Press and Warlock magazine. Using the hashtag #VisibleWomen to amplify the voices and portfolios of women comic artists, Justine has be able to do more illustrative work and character design. We’re excited to find out more about Justine’s artistic journey, her love of role-playing games, comics, art, her influences and much more. . .  Take the leap! 

Photography courtesy of the artist. 

Introduce yourself?    Hi, I’m Justine!  I’ve lived in Baltimore Maryland for the past decade and currently live in a small apartment downtown with my partner and my shiba inu Mo, who is a cool and grumpy guy.

How would you describe your work to someone who is just coming across it? I used to call it storybook surrealism, but now I guess it’s more like psychedelic fantasy horror?  Monsters and Wizards.  Lots of tiny black lines, sometimes with lots of bright intense colors.

How did you start from doodling and drawing to what you do now? I feel like it sort of happened organically.  When I was younger, I would do just pencil drawings, and then in my late teens, I got more into using micron pens.  I didn’t really discover color until a few years ago, so I’m a huge color noob.  I think a lot of it also came from working in comic shops for years and going to conventions.  Seeing all of these amazing artists grow, and thinking hey, I could maybe also do that! I first started with t-shirt designs because it just seemed really fun, and I used to have a really hard time selling prints.  People don’t need more prints, but they can always use clothes!  Now i’m getting more into illustrative work and character design, and I’m loving it!

Who and what were some of your early artistic influences? When I was a baby, my dad hung an Aubrey Beardsley print over my crib.  My mom thought it would make me deranged, and maybe it did, but it also made me love ink work and Art Nouveau style haha.  I was obsessed with sword and sorcery stuff and loooved cartoons like He-Man and She-ra, and later, Pirates of Darkwater. I also spent a lot of time in elementary school copying sexy comic book ladies from 90s comics, and I know that is pretty far from what I do now, but it’s honestly how I learned to draw.  I also copied a lot from children’s storybooks when I was little.  

What are some things that inspire the drawings you make? What are some of your favorite creatures and beings you like to explore in your art? Video games are a huge inspiration to me, from SNES JRPGs, to games like Dark Souls and Bloodborne.  Also folklore and mythology from around the world, and fantasy artwork from the 70’s, 80’s, and 90’s.  Basically anything fantasy.  My favorite things to draw are wizards and monsters.  I love body horror, anything disgusting and beautiful at the same time.  I take a lot of inspiration from Manga, like Berserk, or anything Junji Ito.  I’ve done a lot of Illustrations for Clark Ashton Smith stories, which I find endlessly inspiring, visually.  Just like, fantasy/ sci fi/ dying earth type stuff.

When did you start collaborating with Kobold Press on creating some awesome fantasy art covers for their publications?  I remember getting the email from them when I was on the way to Necronomicon Providence in 2017.  I thiiiink they found my stuff through the visible women hashtag on twitter?  I was very excited because I owned some of their adventures from back in the day when I played Pathfinder!!  Plus, I have always always wanted to draw things for table top RPGs, so it’s been really cool to actually do it! The Warlock mag that I’ve been doing covers for is awesome because it’s going for an old school DND vibe, but it’s all things that are made for 5th edition.  You can get it on their patreon, and I hiiiighly recommend it to anyone who plays 5e dnd!!  

Take us through your artistic process? What’s a typical day in the studio like? Haha extremely chaotic!  I don’t even have a real set workspace, which I really need to change, I just draw where ever. Just chill out, listen to music or a podcast, and draw.  If I’m further along in a drawing and don’t need to focus so much, I’ll watch movies or video gameπ– let’s plays while I’m drawing.  I also love to listen to/ watch things that are in theme with what I’m drawing, to give me some inspiration.  I try to go to coffee shops to change things up sometimes!  Basically I just do a bunch of sketches until something materializes, and then I will just slowly refine the sketch.  I guess it’s not that exciting, but it’s cool to see the first sketch and the finished product because in my head, the sketch always looked like the finished product, but when you go back to look at it, it’s usually just indecipherable scribbles.

What are your essential art tools and materials? 90% of my art is just done using a .05 mechanical pencil and micron pens.  I also draw everything on smooth bristol.  If I have time and want to make my lines super crisp before I scan them in, i will use a light box.   Then for color, I generally use Kyle T Webster brushes in Photoshop with my Wacom tablet.   If I’m on the go, I like to draw things in Procreate on my iPad Pro, but I’m definitely not as good at doing detailed lines digitally.  

What do you do when you’re not drawing or working on projects? How do you unplug? Haha, I wish I ever truly unplugged, I think my brain is now melded into the internet!  But mostly I love to play video games.  JRPGs and anything From Software/ Soulsborne (currently obsessed with Sekiro!)  I also love comics and manga.  I’ve been reading The Girl From the Other Side, which is a beautiful dark fairytale Manga by Nagabe.  I also just got one called Witch Hat Atelier, which has the most amazing art! My partner also owns an insane amount of board games, so we play a lot of those.  I’m obsessed with coffee, and work part time at a coffee shop, and my favorite thing in the world to do is eat good food.    

What has been the most challenging project you’ve worked on? How did you overcome those obstacles and what did you take away from it? I made a kind of cosmic horror short story in mini comic form last year for SPX, I had very little time,  and it was my first time actually writing a story/ dialogue to go with my pictures.  It was insanely challenging.  I ended up with a finished product that I’m really proud of and that I’ve gotten a lot of positive feedback on.  I think it really drove home the fact that I just need to stick with things and finish them, even if I don’t feel like they’re perfect.  I’m never going to have the time that I want, and I’m never going to feel like anything is perfect.  I can still make a great thing!  

What advice would you give someone who wants to follow in your footsteps and pursue art? Don’t spend 4 years doing nothing, but playing World of Warcraft (Or doooo?).  Uhhh, believe in yourself.  Be nice to other artists.  Draw all the time! Immerse yourself in things that inspire you!  Also, like I said before, things don’t need to be perfect.  Let go of perfect, because sometimes it’s an unattainable ideal.  Just do as good as you can, and don’t beat yourself up so much!  I’m horrible at advice!!!

What’s your best Art School tip that you want to share with folks?   Haha, I moved to Baltimore to go to MICA like, 14 years ago, and then realized I was poor, and would never be able to go to MICA… sooo… I never went to real art school.  I wanted to go so bad, and I still wish I’d had that experience, but I want other people who can’t afford it to know that you don’t NEED it.  Things are a bit harder, but you can find so much free info online if you have the drive, you can teach yourself so many things.  Don’t get discouraged just because art school isn’t gonna happen for you.

What are your favorite style of VANS? I love my lavender/ sea fog Authentic Vans, because they basically go with anything, but I am always eyeing those Sk8-His.

Anything you can share that is coming up?   Ahhhh, I have some realllly cool things that I can’t share yet, but just everyone keep an eye out (It will be very exciting, i swear)!!  As for things I can share, I’m working on some new t-shirt designs, and another comic, and also plan on drawing some more cool wizards in my spare time.   So if you wanna see some cool wizards, uhhh, come to my Instagram–you guys!  Let’s hang out and look at wizards.  And talk about wizards.  And if you don’t like wizards well, don’t come I guess.

FOLLOW JUSTINE: INSTAGRAM | WEBSITE | TWITTER | STORE 

[parkerwhitmore]

                                  THE NEXT GENERATION:                                                               ( @parkerwhitmores & @mchaeleicn )

                 CAGNEY, CASPIAN & CONOR  UÍ BRIÚIN AI

these children are soft as hell, even if they choose not to show it. basically, micahel and parker being so disgustingly mushy really made them into people who loved just as easily as their fathers. they’re also literally the worst as children. can you imagine irish kids quoting american memes at you with the thickest accent? they literally make no sense for most of their young lives, except to michael and parker. i swear these kids were meant to cause international headaches. 

C A G N E Y { crown princess of ireland } fc: isa brione

“i love all my children equally but cagney is my favorite. don’t tell caspian or conor. she’s honestly way too much like me, if you ask michael. she got the ‘rebellious’ gene, and while it was a huge issue when she was young, now she’s got a backbone like my sisters do - i’m immeasurably proud of her for that. i’m known for being not-serious ever, but i’m serious about that.” - parker.

parker chose to wait until they were set on it to reveal that he’d gotten the idea for her name from an 80s cop show and not an irish baby name book. and she was a hellion from her very first steps. rambunctious and all the things a royal daughter would have ever been allowed to be in the past generation, she was like a breath of fresh air in dublin. although, parker struggled with getting a taste of his own medicine by being graced with a wild child as their firstborn. but he grew into it, they both grew into their roles as parents alongside her. 

her childhood was as normal as a royal childhood can be. parker objected to most of the things michael had been pushed into, and michael objected to half the things that parker thought were “normal” for kids, so they found a middle ground in raising their first child. honestly, they were probably a bit too indulgent, which resulted in cagney believing that she really could do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted. 

in accordance with her own father’s rebellion, she came out at sixteen in an unapproved statement to the dublin press, announcing her girlfriend to the world and her own family at the same time. that relationship ended soon after, and then another girl would crop up. and then another. she’s the very definition of a heartbreaker. and then she continued to push the label any chance she was given. she’s made herself into an icon for a generation of irish kids that are tired of the old ways, and is a promising future queen, if you put aside all the times she’s blown off the rails in her passionate speeches. 

“cagney is a spitfire and I wouldn’t have it any other way. indeed, she is young and has much to learn but she has so much heart. i can only hope that i shone half as bright as she does when i was that age. she is wild like her father and for that, i love them both even more. i am immensely proud of cagney and i can think of no one better to pass the throne to when i’m gone. there has been plenty of comparisons between her and me in regard to our coming out. she did choose to come out that way because it was how i did it and frankly both times it was radical and a little reckless. but i’m proud of her. and i’m proud to get the chance to raise an lgbtq+ child in a loving, open, accepting environment that i never had.” - michael

C A S P I A N { prince of ireland } fc: chance perdomo

“i love all my children equally but caspian is my favorite. don’t tell cagney or conor. caspian’s way different from his older sister and younger brother: he’s the one who i’m convinced could take over the world. just - thank god we went to that orphanage. i don’t know where our family would be without him. i know i sound like a corny ‘football movie dad’ when i talk about it, but it’s true.”  - parker.

while caspian is the middle child in age, he didn’t come into their family until conor was nearly a year old. but with the ease that he fit into their family, you’d have thought he’d spent his whole life with them. it was simple, one day, they’d visited an orphanage in dublin and while they were there, michael found himself drawn to a quiet child who seemed to want nothing to do with the visit. while parker wandered around, starting up a game of kickball and being his overall obnoxious self, michael was inside making a decision. 

it only took a few weeks for the adoption to go through, because of the power of being royal, and then suddenly michael and parker had three young children who were just a little too rambunctious for them. thank god for their sisters, or they wouldn’t have survived. at least caspian was the pensive child. he spent hours in the library, learning everything he possibly could instead of following his siblings in causing mayhem. 

he’s a little bit too much like michael, analytical and always prepared for whatever is thrown his way. he advises everyone on their political moves, and spends a lot of time working with legislators and politicians to push his own ideas and programs through. he’s basically the brains of the operation. 

“It will surprise no one when I say that Caspian is just like me. As a child, while Cagney couldn’t sit still and Conor was still a baby, Caspian would sit at a little desk next to mine and pretend to fill out blank forms. He’s an amazing young man and I honestly think this family and country would crumble without him. I do sometimes worry he’s too clever. I understand that. I was often too clever by half when I was young though I lacked his confidence and inter-strength. Caspian’s is filled with joy and light and goodness. I always worry about my children being happy but I know whatever Caspian does it will be with his whole heart and make him happy.” - michael

C O N O R { crown princess of ireland } fc: miles mcmillan

“i love all my children equally but conor is my favorite. don’t tell caspian or cagney. he’s my favorite little weirdo. seriously, this kid definitely got the chaotic traits from me. his art, though, jesus christ. he’s got talent and i’ve been formally disinvited from his shows after i got into a small argument with this asshole during a show and... maybe i threw him out the window. maybe he fell, who’s to say?” - parker.

conor, while the youngest, was never truly the baby. from the time he was a little boy, he was as independent as a kid could get. he liked to draw on the walls of the ancient castle they were raised in and to hide away in dark corners until parker’s voice was filled with actual panic that he might have lost one of the kids. he’s always been the oddball of the family. 

while he spent his days following his sister around, he found a bit of himself in every bit of life. he was a free spirit, a little too much like parker when it came down to it. he talked first and thought second, told too many jokes and made art that many would consider “inappropriate” in royal circles, but he didn’t care one bit. 

and maybe conor is truly the oddball, because he’s constantly the one who turns up at strange events and ends up on the front page for his antics, but he never does anything without thinking it through and deciding it’s worth it. out of the three of them, he’s the one who pushes his siblings to break the mold as often as possible, and see the world in a different light. 

“Conor, and I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again, is the coolest kid I’ve ever met. He is talented, clever, adventurous, and brave. He’s who I want to be when I grow up. Many have accused him of being weird and while it doesn’t seem to bother him, it bothered me for a long time. It is no secret that Parker and I are very protective of Conor, he is the baby of the family after all. I’ve come to realize that his being calling weird isn’t a reflection on him or our parenting but the person judging him. They can’t see how amazing Conor is. I’ll tell you a secret. The first brush he ever picked up and started making art with: it was one of my makeup brushes. I think I started makeup when I was twelve and I certainly didn’t wear any in public until I was in my thirties and none that you would notice but in private, I would often experiment. It’s fun. It’s nice. It’s very calming. Anyway, I was in the bathroom in the morning and Cagney wanted me to do her eyeshadow. I did and then left everything on the counter because I had to run off with her to get her dressed for school. Little did I know that Conor was loose and toddling around, ready to get into anything he could. I returned to finish getting ready and I found my toddler on the bathroom floor, surrounded by broken eyeshadow and highlighter palettes with a brush in his little chubby fist, drawing on the wall and taking great care with his colors. I must have sat there for an hour with him, watching him and just talking to him. It’s still there actually, I put a piece of glass and a frame over it. I won’t let anyone repaint that bathroom. It was his first piece of art and I’m not to treasure it always.” - michael