#mother of the year fanfic

[lorirwritesfanfic]

Picky Eater

Book: Mother Of The Year Pairing: Thomas Mendez x MC (Ayla) Rating: T Word count: 1197 Reading time: 5 min Summary: Ayla will have to face her own limitations as she tries to teach her daughter how to be an open-minded eater.

Author's note:

I got an ask from @peonierose with some lovely pictures a while ago and decided to write this story.

Why Thomas x Ayla of all my OTPs? I don't know. Only heaven knows lol

Ayla Day is a creation of this author. The others characters are owned by Pixelberry Studios.

Stephanie and Luz run across the park, crunching dry leaves and stems with their boots as Ayla watches them from a bench nearby. She then glances at Thomas in the street market, chatting with a pumpkin vendor, probably sharing tips and recipes for Thanksgiving dishes.

Being raised most of her life in Brazil, she is a bit indifferent to most American traditions and never saw any reason to look forward to the holiday during her relationship with Guy. But since Thomas and Luz are so excited to celebrate Thanksgiving, she didn't feel like saying no to joining them for the festivities. Stephanie is half American too. It's only fair that she partakes in Thanksgiving dinners once in a while.

"Found it!" Thomas beams as he saunters over carrying a large pumpkin in one hand.

"I can see that..." Her brows shoot in response, but she tries her best not to undermine his excitement. "But don't you think that one is too big for us?"

"Not at all! Levi, Eiko and Alma are coming over. We can do so many dishes with this baby right here. Plus, it's like your mother always says..."

"It’s better to err on the side of generosity than to appear too stingy?"

"Exactly."

"If you say so..." Ayla gives her shoulders.

Thomas then places the pumpkin down and sits next to her. "Everything okay, darling?"

"Yeah... It's just a dumb thought that crossed my mind..."

"About what?"

"Pumpkins... I'm not exactly a fan..."

"Really? Why not?"

"I don't know... The taste and the texture after it's cooked aren't appealing to me."

"Pumpkins aren't appealing to you in every single dish you've tried?"

She wrinkles her nose.

Thomas chortles.

"I know it's childish of me to be picky. I'm trying to teach my own kid not to be picky about food so she can adapt easily to any situation."

"I understand..."

"Do you?"

He nods. "Your secret is safe with me, darling."

"Thank you."

"However..." He grins.

She purses her lips and stares at him deadpan.

"Hear me out first. You can complain all about it later."

"Okay, what is it?"

"If you really want to set a good example for Stephanie, you'll have to show her you're an open-minded eater."

Ayla makes a face. "Yeah... But how do I do that without twisting my nose at a pumpkin pie?"

He grins. "I'm so glad you asked."

One hour later

The scent of coffee roast, nuts and milk spread in the air as Ayla adds the cheesecake filling to the pre-baked crust to place it back in the oven. To her, the idea of adding pumpkin puree to the cheesecake is outrageous. But it's okay. She'll have it with wine anyway. Plus, everything will be fine as soon as she gets a large mug of that fancy and delicious strong coffee Thomas buys especially for her.

"Alright, cheesecake is in the oven, potatoes are ready, turkey is almost done. Did you check on the girls?”

“They’re watching NFL game.”

“Really? I thought Luz preferred soccer.”

“And hopefully she’ll stick to it. She’s intense enough even when she’s watching the game from the living room.”

“Okay…” Ayla giggles. “What’s next?”

"How about we take a break for coffee?"

"Now we're talking! It'll definitely help me with my article later."

"Will I have to sleep by myself all night again while you finish work again? Man..." He nags.

"Not all night." She steps closer to kiss his cheek and gives him her best smile. "Just some of it..."

Thomas fakes pouting.

"Don't give me those puppy eyes. You leave alone in bed almost every night." She folds her arms, feigning annoyance.

"I know and I'm grateful you understand, darling." He wraps his arms around her and kisses her cheek. "Just don't tire yourself too much."

"Yeah, yeah... This is all cute and very lovey-dovey of you, but where's my coffee?"

"How about a latte instead?"

A smile forms on her lips again. "I'm listening."

"Sit tight. I'll take care of everything, darling."

"Mmm..." She then sits on a stool by the kitchen island, resting her chin on one elbow. "I love when you talk dirty to me..."

Chuckling, he turns off the coffee machine, pours the coffee into a mug, adds a spoon of pumpkin puree and whisks them together with a mixer.

"Hey! What was that orange goo in my rich people coffee?"

"Didn't we talk about you setting up a good example for Stephanie by being an open-minded eater?"

"Yes! But coffee isn't a dish! Coffee is coffee and it’s perfect the way it is!" She scowls.

"It's easier to enjoy something you don't like when you include other things you like with it."

Ayla folds her arms.

"I know you're still skeptical, but I'm going to prove you wrong," he says, slowly adding hot milk to the mug.

"You'd better. Because right now you're only showing me the atrocities American people do by adding pumpkin to latte and cheesecake."

Thomas shakes his head and grins. Once the coffee is ready, he covers the mug with whipped cream then adds cinnamon powder and a glass straw with a flourish.

"Here you go."

Ayla inspects the mug for a moment then takes a sip of coffee.

"So?"

"It's better than I expected it to be..." She replies, toying with the straw before drinking it again.

"Wait until you take a bite of the cheesecake."

She instinctively wrinkles her nose.

"I don't think that's the best attitude if you really want Stephanie to be open-minded about food," he points out.

"What? I didn't say anything!"

"Ayla, it's all over your face. And for the record, that's the same face you made when Luz and I had pumpkin ice cream."

Her shoulders slump as she places down the mug. "I'm ruining this, aren't I?"

"No, you're not." He moves closer to kiss her forehead. "And it's okay if Stephanie doesn't like pumpkin after all. Many people don't. Besides, you managed to make her eat most vegetables kids hate."

She gives her shoulders slightly.

"She's a smart and healthy kid who is incredibly lucky to be your daughter, darling. Whether she becomes a picky eater or not."

"Plus, I didn't lie about Thanksgiving, Santa Claus, tooth fairy..."

"You did better in that department than I ever did, by the way."

"I still do."

“Are you still going to call me out about not mentioning the real story of Thanksgiving until she was nine?”

“Yes! Steph knows it since she was six! And may I add, Luz was tough enough to not only hear the full story but also gather money from all white students in the school and donate to indigenous communities because — to quote her…”

“The natives Americans deserve historical reparation.”

They chuckle.

"You're a wonderful mother, Ayla. I'm glad Luz and I have someone like you in our lives."

"Thank you… You're a great parent too, darling," she says resting her head on his shoulder.

“Thank you.”

"Hey, maybe you can be the good influence on Steph about food."

"Why? You're almost halfway through the pumpkin-spiced latte."

"Yeah, but there's the cheesecake."

"Darling, just face it. You're going to love it.”

“You’re so wrong about that…” She scoffs.

“You will eat a big fat slice of pumpkin cheesecake and have seconds. You just don't know it yet,” he jokes.

"If I dump enough whipped cream to disguise the pumpkin in it, sure!"

Between laughter and a few sips of latte, the couple begins to set up the table for dinner.

[erinwantstowrite]

Do I look like him?

had a lot of people ask me to make a tiktok for it and i swear i tried but,,, making tiktoks just isn't working for me rn so we're getting still images until i can get my brain to cooperate. anyways!! i am obsessed with chromokopia and when i heard Like Him i ascended into heaven and also cried. and it very much reminded me of LoF

[phoenixtakaramono]

𝘖𝘪. Ladies and gentlemen, The Boys are back 💉🩸

[lorirwritesfanfic]

I love this story so much!

His worries about his career and feeling unmotivated are so relatable. Sometimes it's hard to move past the failures, specially in careers that even if someone has talent isnt guarantee that they'll manage to pay the bills. Luckily, he has Laura's support to overcome these personal struggles and keep going ❤️

Falling Slowly

[Levi Schuler x Laura Day Masterlist]

Pairing: Levi Schuler x Laura Day [F!MC] Book: Mother of the Year (around chapter 10-11) Word Count: >700

Prompts: @choicesaugustchallenge Orange; @choicesbookclub : MOTY Replay

Synopsis: Levi is feeling run down and overwhelmed as he questions his dream of being a musician. Laura helps him relax and remember why he loves music. [Fluff, Comfort/Care]

Laura curled her feet beneath her, getting more comfortable on the couch. Her burnt-orange maxi dress fluttered over her legs, shielding her from the crisp autumn breeze dancing through the open window of his apartment. She rested her head on his shoulder, snuggling closer as the light of the morning sun blanketed them both in its warmth.

His calloused fingers plucked tenderly at the steel strings of the acoustic guitar in his lap. A melodious song drifted around them, one harmonious cord at a time. It had been a while since he played like this—just for the love of music.

Between working at the bar and thankless tutoring gigs, his motivation for playing had dwindled. What once brought him peace and reassurance now reminded him of his failures. This wasn't the life he was supposed to be living; he couldn't even get a job at a call center. What hope was left for him? Would he ever amount to anything?

His muscles tightened, and his playing became harsher as he warred with himself. Levi shook his head, fighting against all the voices in his head telling him to give up.

Laura kissed his shoulder, gently reminding him she was there for him. It took her longer than she would like to admit to realize how much Levi had been suffering in silence. He had always been there for her and Lily; now, it was her turn. She knew this wouldn't be easy—fighting yourself never is—but he was stronger than the fear and doubt he had let in.

Levi took a deep breath, resettling his hands along the instrument. He started again, focusing on the vibration of the strings and her quiet comfort beside him.

Although it had been hard for him to pick up his guitar for pleasure, she knew this was what he needed most. The joy of his gift had been taken from him by those that couldn't see his worth. While lost, it wasn't gone. He just needed a nudge to help point him home.

Her hand drifted gingerly through his dark hair, settling on the base of his neck. Her fingers dug softly at his strained muscles, encouraging him to keep playing.

Levi's eyes closed, letting the music and the warmth of her touch fill him. He strummed lightly, a quiet song rising from the battle raging within him. This song was different; instead of the pain of his journey, it was filled with light—a melody of hope. With each new note, he realized it wasn't too late for him; he still had time. He had a choice: he could be defined by his failures, or he could choose to raise a hopeful voice and try again. Nothing in his life had felt more right than this moment—that song and her.

When he opened his eyes, he found her smiling contentedly as she rested against him. Even if this was all he ever was, she made him feel like it was enough—like he was already enough just as he was; yet she never stopped believing he could do anything. She knew him better than anyone. She was his beacon of light in the storm, pointing him safely home.

His eyes glistened as they met hers. A thousand unspoken words passed between them, and he captured each one in the chords he strung together into a melody for her.

Nothing in this life had been easy for either of them except for this. That day by the mailboxes had changed everything; meeting her was chance, falling slowly was an inevitability.

Thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed this!

Tags in a reblog, please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed!

[read-write-thrive]

Hospitals had never been the favorite location of either of the Dead Boy Detectives, and they usually refrained from even approaching the premises when at all possible. In the early days of the agency, it was too risky— too many dying or newly dead individuals meant Death was nearly impossible to escape, after all. Even now, with an expanded agency under the influence of the Night Nurse, and as such without immediate risk of hell if they strayed too close to Death, they still tried to avoid hospitals out of habit and for the comfort of all involved—the boys never knew when someone might see them (and it never stopped stinging when someone suddenly did) and it wasn’t exactly easy for the girls to just walk into a hospital without rousing suspicion. It was easier in some ways, these years later, now that the girls were adults and less likely to be seen as truants, but that newfound freedom did not bring with it any sudden desire to see what they were missing behind hospital doors.

All this caution and hesitation was ignored when Charles tapped on the mirror to check on his parents and was met with an unexpected chaos. A heart attack, from what the paramedics were saying as they wheeled the old man out on a stretcher, Charles’s mother and their neighbor following behind in her car. Charles didn’t witness the incident itself, pure luck on the timing, but the aftermath was a flurry of commotion that left him reeling.

He wandered back to the main space of their headquarters (a bigger place than what it once was, courtesy of the girls’ tiring of the boys being unreachable during a crisis or two and deciding to go all in on a shared flat) in a daze. Charles didn’t hide his checking in on his parents anymore, but still preferred to do it alone. Thankfully, his friends were kind, wonderful people who were happy to leave him to it. Said wonderful friends, however, were also quick to notice something wrong.

“Charles?” Edwin, naturally, was the first to notice Charles’s return and immediately put his book aside.

The girls, engrossed in a new show on the other side of their living room, snapped up in their own ways.

“What’s wrong?”

“What happened?”

Charles swallowed down the mixture of emotions threatening to drown him, “It’s my dad, he’s had a heart attack.” He screwed his face up in an attempt to stop the tears that threatened to spill out. Why was he crying? The bastard made his life miserable—

“Good.” Crystal was the first to comment. Niko slapped at her arm. Crystal put her hands up, “What? He was awful!”

“It’s still his dad!” Niko protested, “You can’t just say that!”

Charles tuned out their bickering. Everything felt a little tuned out, actually. And then Edwin was in front of him, hands on his shoulders.

“-love? Charles?”

“Hmm?” Charles tried to silence his whirring emotions.

“Are you alright?”

The Charles of even several years ago would have been quick to brush it all off with a smile. But he’d grown since then.

“Honestly? Not sure. Is that bad? Crystal’s right, he was a dick.”

“And Niko makes a very good point as well. He’s still your father.”

The tears were back again. Edwin pulled him in for a hug before Charles could say another word.

The girls had also quieted, alternating between watching the exchange and speaking through meaningful glances.

Niko was the one to break it, “Did you want to see him?”

The very idea shocked Charles, going rigid in Edwin’s arms.

“He might not even be dying, and going to a hospital is recipe for trouble—“ Charles responded slowly, as if waiting for someone to agree with him and take the weight of the decision off of him.

“I mean, a heart attack is probably close enough to death even if it doesn’t get him.” Crystal contributed.

“And our avoidance of hospitals doesn’t matter if you’d like to go see him. The Night Nurse’s lone positive trait is her protection from Death’s clutches, after all.” Edwin said into Charles’s curls.

“I-“ Charles gave himself a breath, “I wouldn’t even know what to say.”

“We don’t have to.” Crystal said softly.

“Yeah, we can just have our movie night and distract you, or if you want to talk to us but not go see him…” Niko backed her girlfriend up, trailing off into the silence.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” Edwin echoed, sighing, “But I don’t want you to regret anything, either.”

“That’s true, it might be good for closure…” Niko chimes in once again, positive in the face of it all and determined to see Charles cheered up as well.

“Fuck that. You don’t owe him closure. If you don’t want to go, then don’t go.” Crystal’s anger was not what it once was, but she had her moments, particularly when abusers were the topic of discussion. Thankfully she seemed determined to keep her composure.

“Your call, Charles.” Edwin said, pulling away from the embrace but not letting Charles go just yet. He obviously had more to say, if the turn of his mouth was any indication, but he was all softness regardless.

“Could be my last chance, innit?” Charles said lowly, obviously not thrilled at the prospect, “If the bastard goes…”

Edwin’s face shifted, and Charles knew he’d guessed Edwin’s unspoken comment correctly. Still, Edwin’s tone and posture were the same, “No one expects it of you. And we’ll support you regardless of what you decide.”

Charles had a distant feeling of pride that Edwin had gotten better at this sort of thing. He’d tell him that another time. Once this was all over and the world made sense again.

After a moment of reflection, Charles sighed, “I think I’d like to go. Might help me heal or closure or whatever, yeah?”

The girls were up, pulling on their coats and shoes without a second thought. Charles felt monumentally lucky to have them.

Including the boy who held him still, voice low and meeting his eyes, “Do you want all of us with you? We can stay behind if you’d rather do this alone.”

Charles shook his head with his same sad smile, “I don’t want to think what might happen if I do all this alone, mate. Though you’ll have to forgive me if I lose my cool.”

Edwin clearly saw through the attempt at a joking diversion but smiled regardless, “Very well. Do you know which hospital we’re visiting?”

“I’m not sure, but it’s probably closest to their place, yeah?” Charles guessed, scrambling his thoughts trying to remember which hospital he’d been taken to when he’d broken his arm as a kid. It was so long ago, and so much had happened since…

Edwin once again shook him out of his thoughts, “Some investigation is in order, then. Niko? Crystal?”

“On it!” Niko chirped, already deep into her phone, Crystal close behind.

After some internet sleuthing, the girls had acquired the address of the nearest hospital to the Rowland family home and were taking the long way there while the boys readied themselves in front of the mirror.

“Are you ready?” Edwin double checked, hand outstretched.

Charles shook himself, “Not sure I’d ever be, love, but let’s get on with it.”

Edwin pulled him in for a quick kiss on the cheek, a sincere smile, and then through the mirror they went.

—-

They stepped out of a mirror in one of the many bathrooms in the hospital complex, disoriented by the amount of beings (alive and dead alike) as they tried to navigate the halls. The A&E department was the worst, with traumatic deaths creating a perpetual plethora of ghosts. Of course, this was also the first place they needed to check.

The boys held hands tightly as they went, both wound tight by the noise and the blood and the general atmosphere of the place. It was far from the most dangerous place they’d been in their decades together, but that brought little comfort in the face of it all.

Phasing through the various doors and curtains, it was ultimately clear that if Charles’s father was in this hospital, he’d been moved elsewhere. They split momentarily, with Edwin going to find a map of the hospital while Charles waited at the nurse’s station to see if he could get any leads on his family.

It soon became clear that there was simply too much going on for Charles to glean any real information, and he was ready to give up and find Edwin when the next phone call to the desk came from a familiar phone number and gave way to a familiar voice. Niko’s voice was clear on the other end, and just loud enough for Charles to overhear. The nurse gave the information with little questioning, informing all involved that Mr. Rowland had just been moved to a private room on a different floor. Charles didn’t stick around to listen to what exact department the man was in, or what the prognosis was—as soon as he knew the number he was off to find Edwin.

It was quieter in this department. Less urgent. Which meant something significant that Charles was pointedly not thinking about, less that send him into another tailspin. Thankfully Edwin’s presence was grounding beside him.

A nurse left the room as they found it, giving a glimpse through the doorway. Charles’s mother sat at his father’s bedside, accompanying neighbor at her side. They couldn’t see his father (or his father’s ghost for that matter) from their vantage point.

Edwin gave one last squeeze of Charles’s hand to get his attention, “I can give you a moment alone if you’d like.”

“Don’t you dare.” Charles tried to joke, but his voice didn’t seem to cooperate. Edwin’s eyes saddened, but he gave a firm nod and gestured for Charles to take the lead.

The man of the hour looked frail against the white sheets. He was awake, but by the look of his eyes he was definitely on his way out. There was a bulky mask over his nose and mouth, IV in his arm, heart monitor dragging along beside him. Charles's mother sat quietly, holding his hand between two frail ones of her own.

Charles didn't think his emotions could get any more complicated, and then his father's eyes found him. Then Edwin. Then back to him. He rasped behind the mask, Charles's mother shushing him gently.

"Hi dad." Charles sighed more than said, standing awkwardly at the foot of his bed and gripping Edwin's hand so hard he wouldn't be surprised if he managed to hurt him despite all the ghost technicalities.

Another rasp, this time accompanied by a frail hand gesturing towards the boys. Charles nearly slumped in relief when his mother glanced their way but returned to murmuring to her husband rather than reel back in shock. She had some time left, at least. His father, however, continued to try to speak.

Seeing his mother's distress, Charles felt himself snap into his protective mindset without thought, snarking, "Just give it up, mate. They can't see us—you're the only one dying here, so only you get the honour. Trust me, I'd rather talk to mum than you any day, but I cant say I'm too torn up about you going first. Maybe she'll get to have some happy years without you."

The man thankfully stopped his rasping, but his eyes emoted enough that Charles knew he heard him. It gave him the confidence to keep going, never quite sure what his next word was going to be but glad to say it anyway.

"Not that you asked, but I've been having a great time these last thirty, forty years. Yeah my death was awful, don't get me wrong. Kinda wish you got even a taste of that, for all the shit you put me through… Actually, do heart attacks hurt?" He turned his question towards Edwin, who had such a complicated expression that Charles immediately decided that the question wasn't that important, "Doesn't matter now, I guess. But yeah, my afterlife has honestly been better than my life ever was. Not only do I not have to deal with your bullshit, but I've also found people who actually care about me.

"Like this, right here, is Edwin," Charles swung their held hands upwards in an attempt at a wave, earning a slightly hysterical chuckle from Edwin, "He found me dying in that attic, showed me kindness as I died, and I've been by his side ever since. He's the best thing that ever happened to me—"

Charles took a breath as his voice cracked, Edwin's hand squeezing his in silent support. Charles didn't look over to try and keep it together a bit longer.

"He's the love of my—well, love of my afterlife. And I know you’d hate that, or at least hated all that when I was alive. I remember your rants about how all those people dying deserved it. Shouting at the telly like they personally offended you just by existing. Do you still think like that, all these years later? Hell, now here you are, dying on a hospital bed while your queer son laughs at you. What a twist!" Charles laughs, but it doesn't sound right even to himself. He, once again, pointedly doesn't look at Edwin. Looking at Edwin means dropping the brave face, and he's got a few more things to say first.

“You know, you’ll think this is weak or whatever, but I checked in on you and mum over the years. Neither of you could see me, and I never stuck around long, but I wanted—no, I needed to see. If I was the only one you beat, if you’d turn to mum now that I was gone. If you felt any remorse when I died. I’m not sure what I would’ve done if I’d seen you raise your hand to her. Probably taken up Edwin here’s offer to haunt the shit out of you.”

“I never—“

“Not in those words, love, I know, I know. But you meant it like that and you know it. Anyway, thankfully I never saw it. And she didn’t cower like I did, or hide any bruises, so I figured you were safe there. As for remorse, well, never really saw that either. I was bitter and angry those first few years over that. Thankfully Edwin here kept me busy. And now I can’t really be arsed, especially now that you’re dying and I can’t find much remorse either. Angry it took you so long, maybe.”

Charles once again looked at his mother, at the tears on her cheeks and her face turned in silent prayer.

“Even if you never beat her, I still wish you’d given her more time without you. Did you ever visit her family? You shot it down every time she even hinted at it when I was alive. And she’d smile and move on like it didn’t hurt her to hear that the man she married hated her family that much. You know, I used to promise her that I would take her to see them again. I’d tell her that once I was grown up we’d run away and live in India where you wouldn’t care enough to chase after us. She’d swat me for that. Disrespecting you. It always came back to you. Which is just how you wanted it, right? The whole world revolving around you? So fucking glad I got out of there. I shouldn’t have had to die for that, but whatever. It let me live free of you. And soon enough I won’t have to worry about you at all.”

Shoes squeaked obnoxiously right outside the door. Charles glanced up just in time to see Niko giving him a thumbs up as Crystal pulled her away from the glass. Turning back, he was glad to see his mother hadn’t turned away from her husband. No need to confuse her or get the girls in trouble.

Charles sighed and turned back to his father, “Not really sure what else to say here. Edwin? Any ideas?”

Edwin thankfully took the playful question as seriously as Charles meant it, “Hmm. You could tell him about hell if you’d like to be especially vindictive. Or take the moral high ground and forgive him for all he did to you. Crystal and I would also be happy to curse him for all he did if you’d like. Literally or figuratively.”

Charles genuinely laughed at how his father’s eyes widened, “While that sounds tempting, he’s already on his way out. All we’d do is freak out my mum.”

Edwin gave him a soft smile, “Of course. Just a suggestion.”

He returned the smile and squeezed his hand in thanks before turning back to his father, “Right. Well dad, I’m glad I caught you before Death did. I won’t speak to hell or anything, don’t want to jinx it, but I hope you get what you deserve. I’m not going to stick around to find out. And I won’t forgive you, either. You were a right bastard and I still struggle with getting you out of my head even after literally dying. So you don’t deserve my forgiveness, honestly. I’ll keep an eye on mum, but that’s for her and my sake, not for yours. Probably won’t go to your funeral or any of that, either. I’ll be a little mad if they bury you next to me, but those are just bones by now so I guess it doesn’t really matter. Yeah. I think that’s it. No forgiveness, no love, just hope you get what you deserve and that I never have to see you again. That about sums it up.”

Edwin squeezed his hand again, drawing his attention, and speaking softly, “Does that mean you’d like to go? We can wait if you want to be sure.”

Charles once again felt overwhelmed with it all, particularly with how lucky he was to have Edwin. He didn’t want to start crying here, so he just nodded and pulled Edwin with him out of the room.

“How’d it go?” Crystal asked from her seat in the hall chair, Niko nodding next to her.

“He’s dying alright. Gave him a piece of my mind. But I’m ready to never think about him again, honestly.” Charles tried to make light of it, but it was clear none of them bought it. He blinked up towards the ceiling to keep the tears away just a bit longer.

“Once we get back to the apartment, expect plenty of hugs from us.” Niko informed him, eyes glancing down the hall at the others down the way.

Charles smiled, “Noted. Sorry to make you come all the way out here, guys.”

“Nope, none of that—“ Crystal started, but was cut off by nurses suddenly rushing towards the room, obvious some alarm or something had been pulled. The girls stood in a rush to get out of the way.

“We’ll see you back at the apartment!” Niko called back to the boys as they took their leave.

Edwin held his arm out, the way he did when he wanted Charles to feel especially cherished, “Shall we?”

Charles turned very purposefully away from the door and took the offered arm with a thankful smile. He would need to have a proper cry and rant and rave about all of this later, he was sure. He’d come to learn that all those complicated emotions don’t just go away when you ignore them. But, for now, he was happy to hold onto his partner and get the bloody hell out of this hospital.

~

EDIT: now with part 2 !!

[forbeswho]

Imagine a fic where Lena becomes Lex Corp CEO after Lex is arrested, she needs a COO and there's a few people in mind, but in the moment Kara Danvers says no, she becomes the first choice. Lena keeps going after Kara and making the deal better and better, the more she refuses, the more she falls in love.

[youchangedmedestiel]

Rewatched episode 9x17 yesterday evening with my sister (it's her first time watching) and when Dean is in the bar with Crowley and Crowley leaves to go to the restrooms, Dean spots a guy.

He thinks he is a hunter, but he is in fact working for Crowley. And I realized that the guy looks like Cas somehow. By that I mean he has blue eyes and dark hair. He tells Dean that his name is Jake.

So I thought, what if Dean talked to Jake to stop him on his way of killing Crowley differently. Listen to me. Dean has the Mark, he is on edge a little. So what if the guy provokes him more (he is working for Crowley after all). Dean could push him against the wall and Jake would try to kiss him, because why not, he is probably a demon but Dean doesn't know.

Dean would resist first, but there's no one there. Crowley flew away and won't come back probably. He needs to let go a little bit, because he is already fighting against the Mark.

Dean would kiss him back after all, pushing him further against the wall. Jake would push him away to go hide in a restroom. He would go down on his knees in front of Dean, unbuckling the hunter's belt while he'd look up at him with his bright blue eyes. Those seem too familiar to Dean and reminds him of someone.

When Jake would take him in his mouth and look at him with those same eyes, Dean would start thinking about Cas. And as he comes, he would moan Cas's name.

And then I thought, what if he would moan or think about it so loudly multiple times to the point where it ends up sounding like a prayer and Cas pops in the said restroom, seeing Dean eyes closed, teeth biting his lower lip with a guy kneeling in front of him.

[starrierknight]

no results button, we die like men.

please reblog for a larger sample size & to help fellow authors out!

[surr3al1sm]

I very much enjoy the contrast between how I write Wanderlust and his parents and Jack and Night Swan.

[mekachu04]

23. Morning

Kidd - 6 | Killer - 10?

Tags specifically for this chapter:

Kidd gets named

Killer gets a birthday

more scottish holidays I'm trying to twist to fit into one piece

holidays would be the most reliable way for a bunch of homeless kids to keep track of time

Read at A03 linked above or here below cut

Drabbles from Pocket Jack's KiKi-tober Prompt list

Besides counting the fourteen days between dock pays, Killer also carefully counted quarter days. He had no paper contracts - he wouldn't be able to read them anyway - but its when pay ledgers would be checked, and extra hands would be let go. Leases would be up and one either paid for the next few months or made sure to be out the door before the landlords caught on you'd been squatting there in the first place.

It was also a chance to get hired again and get steady work. And Killer put his best face forward every Martinmas; winter was the most important time to get work. Work meant pay, sure. But good work also meant being warm in the day, sometimes a meal at lunch, and if really lucky, a safe hidy-hole to sleep after dark.

Killer, who was good with numbers and likes sussing out the patterns they made, loved this time of year. Martinmas started on 11/11 and lasted 2 months and 22 days ending on 2/2 on Candlemas, and Killer had always felt that must mean it a lucky time of year. Last year had been hard - the docks were still recovering from the fire and the only people with extra coin for the season hadn't wanted two little boys on staff.

32 days after First-Foot and 23 days after he'd given the last of their coins to the kid, Killer had taken the tiny stub of their last candle and boldly joined the woman who marched to Februa. He's watch them march every year to get their candle's blessed, and Killer needed all the blessings he could get, even if it just meant a candle he'd hope would last a little longer.

The women around him would point and whisper at him as he walked with them, but when his bravado started to fail him, he was saved by the kid who'd gotten bored begging at his assigned corner and left to find him. He was munching on an already partially eaten sandwich, before offering it to Killer. Killer - who was indeed hungry - took a bite before giving it back.

The whispers started up again, and Killer wished he hadn't taken the bite, it knotting up in his gut.

"Whose children are these?" One woman asked finally, addressing the others.

He just wanted his candle blessed. Now he was pretty sure he'd messed up somewhere. Thankfully, the kid didn't seem to notice the unease and stayed focused on his meal.

At least until the woman grabbed his arm, and he dropped the coveted food when she practically lifted the little boy off the ground - "Whose kid is this!"

Killer could have bitten her, and certainly would if she carried on like that, "Hey! Hey, he's mine, let him go!"

She frowned at him, expression unhappy still, "Excuse me?"

"He's mine!"

"Where's your mother?" one woman asked; Killer had no answer to that. "What do you mean he's yours?" asked another, and Killer wasn't sure how to answer that either.

"Is this your bother?" the woman ask the kid instead. He looked just as unsure how to answer as Killer.

"He's my kid! Give him back!" Killer declared, both boys starting to get upset.

One of the women took pity on them it seemed, and she stepped up to whisper something to get first woman to let go of the kid. Killer grabbed his hand and meant to run away, but the woman who's asked about their mothers knelt down to block their way.

"Hi, Kidd, I'm so sorry about your sandwich. But I saw you come over to share it with.. uh…"

"This is Killer." he said it without hesitation, clinging to Killer. He was more upset by Killer being upset at the moment, the whole ordeal making little sense to him.

"I saw you share it with Killer while he waited in line with us. That was very thoughtful of you."

He grinned, and Killer relaxed just a fraction.

She pulled out beri note, and put it into Kidd's free left hand, "Hey, Kidd, why don't you go and get you and Killer a new one?"

Both the boys face dropped in surprise at the paper bill. Kidd practically shoved it in Killer's face, with an awed 'look!'

Beri was off island money; it was worth a lot to the right people. Worth more then the numbers printed on it.

"It's too much…" he didn't mean to say it, but the words slipped out before Killer could stop them. Kidd looked at him curiously.

The woman's smile is still kind but incredibly sad. "Is it just the two of you then? Or are there others?"

"Just us," Kidd pipped up, the beri note having been folded up and put in the little drawstring bag his birthday coins has been in.

"Wh.." she pursed her lips, tilting her head and tried again, "Do you understand what the march to Februa is for?"

"Killer's getting our candle blessed."

Killer showed her their candle stub.

"It's just the two of you?" she asks again, and Kidd nods before Killer can tell him to stop, starting to feel nervous.

But she looks thoughtful, "Is this the first year it's just been the two of you then?"

"The kid's been mine since the coup."

"Okay," she smiles, and when she stands, she ushers Killer in front of her with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

A few of the women had hung back waiting for her as the rest had marched on. "This is Kidd," she says, touching Kidd's red hair first, "and this is Killer," she said, her hand going from his shoulder to his hair too. "This is the first year Killer has had Kidd, and he's going to get get their last candle blessed."

He was still doing it wrong, Killer realized, but the laughs were kind, their smiles no longer mocking but sweet. The woman's hand was warm and soothing where it lingered on his head. They looked at him like people looked at Kidd when he did something cute. The beri woman kept a hand on them the whole way, and no one asked again why they were there. When it was Killer's turn, words where exchanged in advanced, and a confused man said a prayer on his candle.

It would several year later before Kidd would sit up suddenly one night, hours after they should have both been sleeping. Killer bolted upright the moment he did - a light sleeper to the point to of detriment - but also something that had saved their asses many a times. "What it is?!" he whispered harshly when he couldn't figure out what woke Kidd up.

Kidd looked at him accusingly in the low light, "When is your fucking birthday?"

"Wha… what?"

"How do I not know this? How have we never celebrated your birthday?!"

Exhausted, Killer plopped back down, arm slung over his face. "Go the fuck back to sleep."

"No, seriously," Kidd shoved his shoulder, and when that didn't work, pulled Killer's arm down, "When the fuck is your birthday?"

"Who knows," Killer answered, pulling his arm free and rolling away from Kidd to try and go back to sleep.

Unfortunately for him, it was never going to happen as long as Kidd was staring at him; some part of his brain refusing to let him ignore the fact someone was looking at him.

"Candlemas." he said finally, the first day to come to mind, "last term day of winter."

Kidd was whispering under his breath, trying to remember if he knew anything relevant about the day.

"Second of February." Killer supplied, tired of listening to the gears grinding uselessly in Kidd's head.

"Oh…"

"Will you go back to sleep now?"

[choicesficwriterscreations]

CFWC F/AotWeek Mar 3 - 9, 2024

✒️= Fanfic | 📱= Text Fics/Edits | 🎨 = Fanart Ⓜ️ = Mature Content 18+ | 🔥 = Explicit/NSFW 18+ 🏳️‍🌈 = LGBTQIA |🔹Submitted by creator

BACHELORETTE PARTY

Gardenia in Blossom ✒️🏳️‍🌈🔹| BP NB!MC - @aallotarenunelma

BLADES OF LIGHT AND SHADOW

Blades Full Listing Week Ending March 9, 2024

BLOODBOUND

Hide Me In Thy Wounds - Part 2/2 ✒️🔹| Gaius Augustine x MC - @gaiuskamilah

CRIMES OF PASSION

Crimes of Passion Drabble ✒️🔹| m!Trystan Thorne x F!MC by @lilyoffandoms for @storyofmychoices

Gabriel Rose 🎨🏳️‍🌈 by @lilyoffandoms

Home Without Part 3 ✒️🔹| m! Trystan Thorne x F!MC by @thosehallowedhalls

Kiss and Say Goodbye 🎨🔹| m!Trystan Thorne x F!MC by @/artbyainna (C: @jerzwriter)

Lilah Rose (COP F!MC) 🎨by @lilyoffandoms for @storyofmychoices

Royalty Over Loyalty ✒️| f!Trystan Thorne x M!MC - @kwaj115

Trystan Thorne Fanart 🎨by @lilyoffandoms

What Doesn't Killy You (Series) ✒️| Sebastyan Thorne, Marguerite Thorne, Trystan Thorne - @choices-ceri Chapter 2

THE CURSED HEART

Kieran x F!MC Fanart 🎨by @bri1234

Oleander Fanart 🎨 by @artbyalz

ENDLESS SUMMER

Never Had a Friend Like Me: Part 1 ✒️ | Diego Soto & MC - @marmolady

GUINEVERE

Lancelot du Lac 🎨🏳️‍🌈by @lilyoffandoms

IMMORTAL DESIRES

Cas Harlow x OC Fanart 🎨 by @sadxlee

Cas Harlow x OC Fanart 2 🎨 by @sadxlee

Esme (ID F!MC) 🎨 by @artbyalz

IT LIVES WITHIN

Freesia Gaze ✒️🔹| Abel Flints x F!MC - @aallotarenunelma

LAWS OF ATTRACTION

Martin Vanderweil Fanart 🎨🏳️‍🌈 by @oh-so-youre-a-nerd

The Three Fates 🎨🏳️‍🌈| Original Characters - @oh-so-youre-a-nerd

MOTHER OF THE YEAR

Levi & Lily Fanart 🎨by @lilyoffandoms for @storyofmychoices

Zoey 🎨 by @lilyoffandoms

MULTIPLE STORIES

Choices MCS 🎨by @cassiopeiacorvus

NIGHTBOUND

Forever Royal ✒️🔹| Nik Ryder x F!MC - @ladylamrian

OPEN HEART

Open Heart Full List Week Ending March 9, 2024

QUEEN B

I'm Not Needed, Never Will I Be ✒️🏳️‍🌈| Ina Kingsley x MC - @kwaj115

RED CARPET DIARIES

Classic Hollywood Glamour 🎨| Thomas Hunt by @oh-so-youre-a-nerd for @storyofmychoices

Happiest of Birthdays 🎨| Thomas Hunt x F!OC by @weetlebeetle (C: @theartoflovingthomashunt)

THE ROYAL ROMANCE

Best Kept Secrets (Series) ✒️Ⓜ️🔹| Liam Rys x F!OC - @ao719 Chapter 19: Built to Last

Cinderfella's Adventures in Cordonia (Series) ✒️🏳️‍🌈| Liam Rys x M!MC - @justcallmefox89 Chapter 20

Hirbawi ✒️Ⓜ️🔹| Drake Walker x MC - @petiteboheme

Maxwell Beaumont x MC 🎨by @bombomangooo

Princesa Real (Series) ✒️| Liam Rys x MC - @belencha77 Chapter 1: El Amor no Existe Chapter 2: Erase Una Vez 🔹

The Royal Romance: Once Upon a Time (Chapter 2) ✒️| Liam Rys x MC - @fadingreveries

SUNKISSED

You're Always Going to be a Wildflower ✒️🔹| Nate, F!MC - @aallotarenunelma

THE UNEXPECTED HEIRESS

Christie Jane Hayes (MC) 🎨@lilyoffandoms for @storyofmychoices

WISHFUL THINKING

Amaryllis Bliss ✒️🏳️‍🌈🔹| Jamie Lewis x F!MC - @aallotarenunelma

[ruindunburnit]

By the way, the Night and Her Shadow 2nd draft is going super well. I am on part 3 of 5 and already have a slightly different ending planned for the fic because I love y'all and want y'all to have nice things.

[erinwantstowrite]

I was reading the post about itsy bitsy (fav AU I NEED IT) and was wondering how would Bruce deal with the whole situation. From my understanding he’s so far just had to deal with kids ages 9 and up, never a 4 year old toddler. ( I could be wrong tho. Sorry i don’t read the comics) I imagine Díck going to him freaking out asking him what to do and he’s like “idk 🤷‍♂️”

oh for sure they're running around like "i have literally never had to deal with a kid this young" and they turn to alfred who's the only one of them who has

[fruchtfleisch-art]

If micro-fics are still withstanding, why not something about Shinobu’s parents! Perhaps contrasted with how Kosaku’s were, or maybe even Kira’s?

Idk, im just fascinated with in-laws and families !!!

I love thinking about families too, this was a really fun prompt! I wish I'd had some space to write about Kira's parents as well, but this already is a tadge too long... I guess emotional neglect is the thread connecting their families, albeit on completely opposite ends of the spectrum. Neglect is so fun and versatile like that!

Big HUGE thanks to @toytle for reading this over for me, you caught so many word repetitions and overstuffed sentences I glossed right over in my first edit, haha. This fic is much better now thanks to you!

It’s unfortunate, but Kosaku can’t stay in the kitchen forever. He eases the flow of the faucet from a torrent to a trickle, sets his bowl in the sink, and listens, his heart in his throat, to the heavy, solid silence emanating from the dining room.

Shinobu hasn’t said a word for almost five minutes, her father twice that, but Kosaku doesn’t want to go back. He would give anything to be somewhere else, away from this cramped little house where everything is dingy and shabby and a little off-kilter, even the yellowed lines of grout lining the checkered tile counter. There’s no towel to dry his hands with, so he wipes them on his pants, feeling the square lump of his lighter in his pocket.

A quick glance towards the dining room confirms a total lack of movement since he went to rinse his dish out.

In five steps, with a brief pause to jam his feet into his shoes, he’s out on the engawa, the door lurching stiffly shut behind him. It’s freezing, the crisp air crackly in his lungs, but the view of the road below is clear. A few stars have emerged in the darkness settling over the sky like a thin slick of oil, following in the rosy wake of the pale sun. Kosaku puts his glasses on, smooths his hair back, and lights a cigarette.

He's not going to be out here for long, just until he figures out what he wants to say. He can’t think around Shinobu’s father, crumbles under his hard stare and his gravel-voiced accusations.

‘What do you want, money?” he’d asked in lieu of a greeting.

“This is a fine mess,” he’d said, after weathering their feeble attempts to talk around the issue at hand. “You’ll be expecting me to feed you, I suppose.”

Then, as they sat down to eat, to Shinobu: “Why are you doing this? Haven’t you caused me enough trouble?”

It’s all the worse for the apathy behind such cutting words, for his complete disinterest in anything said in response. Her father isn’t a big man, but he drains all the energy out of the room, with only cold contempt to replace it.

Shinobu adores romance movies, and there’s always a scene where the male lead swoops in with a heartfelt confession, the admission of which becomes shield and sword against anything standing in the way of his lover’s happiness. But life isn’t a movie, and when Kosaku tried to say something-anything- the words dried up and died on his tongue, and he found himself staring down into his lap, wishing he could wake up and find the last few weeks to be nothing more than a terrible dream.

Shinobu’s voice catches his ear, low and furious and only slightly muffled by the wall between them. The dining room window is cracked open a few centimeters; Kosaku can hear her as clearly as if he had his ear pressed to the door in the kitchen.

“Why can’t you just be happy for me? I don’t know why I even bothered.”

Her father, dull and scratchy: “You don’t call, you don’t visit, but now when you need something-“

“That’s not fair-“

“Life’s not fair. I don’t know why you can’t seem to get that through your head-“

Kosaku feels a sudden rush of gratitude towards his parents, who, although not the least bit pleased with him, at least waited for Shinobu to leave before saying so. He sits down, trying not to shiver as the cold seeps into his legs, then his core, like a stripe of ice creeping up his spine.

He sits and doesn’t think of much at all, letting the argument wash over him as pure noise, as meaningless as the rattle and hush of the wind in the bare branches of the trees. It’s full dark, the glowing tip of his cigarette the only point of brightness on a street cloaked in shadow, as remote and lifeless as the surface of the moon.

There’s the distant glare of yellow halogen headlights further down the road, the remote sound of the motor like a windup toy. Kosaku watches as it pulls up to the house, tires crunching to a stop on the gravel drive.

The man who slides out of the car is thin and shabby, lank hair hanging in his eyes. His shirtsleeves are rolled back to the elbows, and his canvas pants are ragged and splotched with old stains. He looks like a manual laborer, or some kind of repairman, but it’s far too late for somebody like that to come here.

Kosaku doesn’t see the resemblance to Shinobu’s father until he’s at the foot of the engawa, but it’s unmistakable up close. The man glances at Kosaku as he walks up to the front door, then cocks his head, listening to the argument like a spaniel hearing the clumsy wingbeats of a particularly fat duck. A smile worms its way across his face.

“Cigarette?” the man asks, holding his hand out to Kosaku.

“Huh?”

The outstretched hand closes, jabs a finger towards his face. “You’re the runt who knocked my sister up. Give me a goddamn cigarette.”

Kosaku lights it for him, too.

Shinobu’s brother sucks his first draught in hard and blows a dense cloud of smoke, settling down next to Kosaku with a satisfied sigh.

“So,“ Kosaku says, swallowing hard. He wets his lips. Shinobu never said anything about a brother.

“Why aren’t you in there?” the brother asks. His hands are red and chapped, speckled with tiny iridescent dots: fish scales. He must be a dock worker. Maybe she’s embarrassed.

“Sounds like they’re talking about you,” he continues. “You don’t have anything to say for yourself?”

Kosaku doesn’t know what he would say, though. Everything is happening so fast. A few months ago he had a girlfriend. Now he has a fiancé, soon to be a wife. And the baby, of course. Their child. Milestones that were once distant possibilities are suddenly only a hair’s breadth from the present.

“You’re not gonna run off, are you?” the brother asks.

“No!” Kosaku says, startled. “Never. I love her.”

“Alright. If you say so.”

His cigarette is starting to taste bad, thick and ashy on his tongue. Would it be rude to leave, or would the brother follow him inside? Would Shinobu be happy to see either of them?

“It’s kind of funny, isn’t it? This whole thing?”

“No, it’s not,” Kosaku says quietly.

“What, you don’t think so? She was an oops baby, too. Did she ever tell you that?” He leans in, his voice low and dangerous, close enough for Kosaku to see the stubble on his lip and the shallow pits of old acne scars on his cheek. “Hey, here’s some brotherly advice, from me to you: don’t wait twelve years after your first child is born to start fucking your neighbor’s wife. But if you do, if you really can’t help it, don’t forget to wear a condom, alright?”

Kosaku doesn’t understand what kind of reaction he’s trying to get out of him. He didn’t want to know that. Shinobu’s brother grins, his eyes bright and pitiless under the shaggy fringe of his bangs.

“Well. Best of luck.” He stands, flicking his cigarette off into the bushes, and stretches. “Take care of her, I guess. When’s the wedding?”

Kosaku doesn’t want to tell him. Shinobu has good reason not to talk about her brother. What was it like, growing up with a sibling over ten years distant from you, old enough to understand why his family is coming apart, but young enough to blame you for it?

The front door bangs open and Shinobu storms out, face set in a hard look of resignation. Kosaku scrambles to his feet as she passes him on her way to his car, ready for… something. He’s not sure what to expect: shouting, cursing, thrown shoes?

There’s none of that, just a deep, awful silence that seems to ooze from the gap between door and jamb, the frame swollen from cold, or damp, or both. The quiet shrouds them like a dark, dirty blanket, and Kosaku feels his breath catch, burning, in his chest.

“Be seeing you,” Shinobu’s brother says, but Kosaku doesn’t know which one of them he’s addressing. He pulls the door open, a thin strip of orange light spilling out onto the three of them, and then it groans shut, leaving Kosaku and Shinobu in darkness.

She shifts closer to him, arms wrapped around herself. Kosaku drops his cigarette and grinds it out with a gritty crunch.

“Let’s-“

“Can we-“

“Let’s just go,” he says. It’s not a romantic statement by any stretch of the imagination, but it’s decisive. “We can go to my parents’ place, or your dorm- anywhere you want.”

Shinobu sniffles. She looks cold, her nose red and her face pale and waxy, eyes ringed in dark circles. He wonders how well she’s been sleeping. “It’s a long drive back.”

“I can do it.” Kosaku takes her hand and it’s like a block of ice. He doesn’t start the car until he feels some warmth seeping in, until she clenches back, until he feels the bones in his fingers shift and ache.

[tarnussy]

social anxiety is interesting because for a while now I've been on the fence about posting even just mildly svggestive things in the tags, (even if that means just leaving tags on my own posts) solely because I know I have a follower that is extremely against it and sometimes vagueblogging about it is involved and sure enough, happened this time as well

and even though that's a them problem and not mine, why do I feel extremely guilty and anxious about it? it's like my extremely prudish family all over again, this time online, which was the only place where I could be a bit free in that regard

anxiety is awful, I hate it

[alicefromwhichplanet]

THIS.

(Been trying to find the original post but failed on tumblr. But I want to repost this so much. Tell me if the author thinks it’s a violation of their copyright. I’ll delete it.)