#only after my mom was out of the equation was i able to convince her that ceiling fans and bikes and cars weren't the enemy

[cuntwrap--supreme]

My cat butted up against my hand and it reminded me of when my childhood cat was starting to go senile and my mom suggested we just have her put down because she doesn't really matter once she's lost it and that she never cared about me besides being a hand that provides food (even though I was the only person in the family she was comfortable around after she'd gone totally feral out of age-induced confusion). My mom never liked that cat, even though she was a really good cat. It's not her fault she got old and couldn't remember shit. To me, that's when she needed the most care. To my mom, she deserved to be locked in the basement for the last two years of her life. And, because my mom seldom let her out and I was both in college and working full time and could only release her for a few hours daily, the basement ended up being where she felt safe, and she would only leave if I picked her up and moved her out. Which is so sad. Imagine treating a dying animal that way.

[nsk96]

Another rant post because the negativity is hitting hard this month apparently. Long depressing stuff below

I feel bad about having to vent here but I can't keep a physical diary. Not to mention I lost all my diary entries from childhood because I had to tear up my diary in middle school when my parents tried to read it. To avoid something like that every happening again, I have to write everything here.

After making an update to my previous rant post, I didn't think I'd need to make another one so soon. My mom doesn't understand why I've been depressed this month and I can't tell her because she won't be able to handle the fact that it's mostly because of her. Also, I honestly hate that she says the phrase "acting depressed". Does she not believe that I'm actually depressed? Is she really equating my symptoms to the manipulation tactics of my dad? I hate that whenever I do something that she doesn't agree with, she has to say "you're getting like your father." Or does she think that she's the only one in the house with depression?

And why is she taking my depressive episode so personally? I just want some distance and space to process my emotions and she thinks crowding me asking me for answers is gonna somehow alleviate the situation? I told her I've always been dealing with this and that it comes in cycles (it started in high school around 2012). I tried my best to explain it to her and told her she didn't notice the other times. She said she did notice the other times, which I think is a lie. Maybe she noticed the minor symptoms but didn't know what it actually was (I always hid it but some things would break through). And she was like, "but this time was much worse." It only seemed worse because this time I wasn't trying to hide it. Yes, compared to previous years, the heaviness of it is worse but I've done well at hiding it. But nowadays, I'm beyond exhausted and burnt out, it's bad enough I have to hide it when I'm with my friends or among my classmates. When I get home I just want to exist alone for a few hours without someone barging in on my privacy and I just want not having to report to someone about my day. Honestly, when I am like this, I just want silence and peace. This is one of the reasons I've been wanting to move out (with a loan from my school). Just some time to decompress without someone invalidating my feelings all the time.

And it bugs me that she thinks she has me figured out. I said to her that I think I may need antidepressants and tried to explain the biology behind depression. Her answer to me was "exercise." Exercise where? Our treadmill is in the 108'F garage covered up with bags of clothes and heaven knows what. There is no space in my room to even do the toning exercises I used to do. The gazelle machine and the floor bike do nothing for me. Before we moved here, she convinced me to get rid of the weight-lifting mechanism we had because "we won't have place for it. It's either that or the treadmill." And she doesn't want me going to a gym because apparently she doesn't feel comfortable with me traveling anywhere alone besides school. A year after we moved here, we agreed to start going to a gym. When we arrived at the gym parking lot, she chickened out before we even got halfway across the parking lot and we returned to the car. "This is not a good area" she said as if she didn't already know before we got there. Every time she tells me to exercise, it's like a slap in the face. Today she was like "we can go for walks". When? When will we go for walks when both of us of difficulty getting up early on a weekend? I can handle getting up early but I don't ever see her get up earlier than 6 or 7 am unless she absolutely had to for a medical appointment or something super important. Though I understand it's not her fault but offering to go on walks with me is unrealistic.

So I was on my way back to my room and said, "I'll just join a gym then." She laughed and asked when I would go to a gym and reminded me that I don't have time to go, basically mocking how studying takes up all my time and said something along the lines of "unrealistic expectations". As if she doesn't know why studying takes up all my time. As if I haven't had this conversation with her enough times already. I replied, "I'll have the time when I get Adderall." She jokingly said, "so you're going to be one of those people who are on medications their whole life." I replied, "I'm done explaining this to you" before closing my door. Apparently she didn't hear that part and walked over to my door asking me what I said. I decided not to tell her and said I don't remember. She said, "You don't remember or you don't want to tell me?" I softly said, "I don't want to tell you," as I slowly and carefully closed the door.

I went to take a nap after, even though it was hard to fall asleep after this whole exchange. I was so physically exhausted but my mind just couldn't let go of what she said about me being on medication for my whole life. As if using the medication needed to function like a normal person is a bad thing? Like antidepressants would worsen my condition? I feel like it can't get any worse than it already has when I'm already having THOSE thoughts, and I learned that if I gotten treated early on closer to when it started, the chances of me having another episode would have decreased significantly. It's possible it wouldn't have gotten to this point.

It was easier to prevent or ignore back in undergrad because back then, there was time to do things that made me happy. Now in pharmacy school, I don't have the time do the things that make me happy. To make the time for it, means sacrificing study time that I desperately need. And I guess I wasn't as affected by my inattention issues back in undergrad because there was room for error. I still failed 3 classes over the course of 4.5 years, but there was more time overall to make up for the study time lost to my inattention issues. Not to mention, being able to hyperfocus the night before deadlines and exams to complete assignments or cram for exams. That ability seems to have decreased a lot, the more burnt out I am.

Nowadays, it's super rare for me to be able to hyperfocus. And now in pharmacy school, there isn't room for error and I'm sinking. I saw my GPA last week for the first time since spring semester. I'm at a 2.9. That's nowhere near competitive enough for getting residency. My sole goal when coming to pharmacy school, was to become a hospital pharmacist and apparently I can't do that without residency. I know there are other factors that go into choosing candidates, but how many are going to look at my GPA and decide to look at the rest of my qualifications? With a 3.0 they might take a chance but I'm already at 2.9 and it's going to decrease even more once grades go in at the end of this semester.

I attended a residency information session and it was advised that I should explain the reason for my low GPA in the letter portion...but how am I going to explain this? Undiagnosed mental disability that was ignored by my mom (who has sadly been my only support system) my whole life no matter how much I struggled, no matter how many times I wanted to give up, no matter how many times I brought up to her that I wanted help with this? Instead, it feels like it's just a joke to her.

I don't know, maybe treating things as a joke is her way to cope with not knowing what to do but at the same time it doesn't feel like she actually cares about what's going on in my head (her famous line "I don't understand you" while not making the effort to actually know me, or not making me feel safe enough to open up. I'm now 27 and finally opened up to her about being SAd at age 5 (only after she opened up about a doctor SAing her), which convinced her that I should get therapy...only for her to then change her mind again a month later telling me to wait until I get a job before going to therapy. And she doesn't expect me to get worse? After this I decided to not tell her any more about me. Up until this point, I was right not to open up to her about anything).

I want to give her the benefit of the doubt but it's been difficult especially with the hurtful/thoughtless things she has said and continues to say. She contacted the insurance company on my behalf, and helped me make an account to start searching for professionals in our insurance network, which I'm thankful for, but she only did that after I came home this month having an emotional breakdown and told her that this was normal for me but usually in the night. From the things she has said, it feels like she doesn't actually take it seriously and it feels like she only helped just because it's something I asked for, not because it's something I needed.

[shinyhoundhandseagle]

Fandom: Supergirl (2015)

Title: The Child of Steel, the Poet and Judas.

Words: 1,509

Characters: 7,844

Ships: Lena Luthor/Kara Danvers (Supercorp), Clark Kent/Lois Lane, Alex Danvers/Kelly Olsen, Brainy/Nia Nal

Chapter 1. White Lies

*Hey Lia are you still coming tomorrow night?*

My best friend, Gabriela Rojas, texted me out of nowhere on a Thursday afternoon. It took me a couple of seconds to remember what was tomorrow but when I finally did I had to cuss myself out loud, I really had forgotten about it? Damn it.

There was a party tomorrow night, the biggest high school party of the whole year actually and I was supposed to ask my parents for permission but then I had forgotten about it for about a week and a half and even better, my parents weren't normal human beings. No, my mothers were Kara and Lena Luthor-Danvers which meant a lot of things but specially that I wasn't gonna get that permission.

My mother, Kara Zor-El Danvers, would probably say yes to it as she was the fun, chilled, understanding parent that knew that her sixteen year old daughter needed some freedom and fun once in a while, specially on Fridays. Plus she definitely had an extra soft spot for me, her baby and only child. Convincing her of letting me go out would definitely be easy.

On the other hand my mom, Lena Kieran Luthor, wasn't as pleasant, easy going and happy with letting me go out as my mother. She was the strict one, the one that would ground me for skipping class, feed me vegetables against my will and would make sure I went to bed before 1am. I love her but she treated me like a baby when I'm already sixteen. Booo

*Probably not. I still haven't asked for permission and you know my mom.*

Yes, she definitely did. Gaby's mother, Andrea Rojas, was an old friend of my mother so we also became really close which meant that Gaby knew how neurotic my mom could be. She was there when we went on a school trip to the zoo and I forgot to text my mom I was fine. She was there when after only an hour of silence on my part my mom mobilize Supergirl and the DEO to find me... Sixth grade was a tough year for me after that. A lot of mean comments from my classmates who's zoo experience was ruined by her.

*Don't tell her you're going, tell her you're spending the night at my house.*

*What do you think its gonna happen if she finds out I'm not at your house? You know her!*

*We rest in peace baby cakes lol.*

*… Fine I'll do it.*

I could do it, right? Lie to my incredible smart, controlling mom and my superhero mother about where I was, right? It would be a walk in the park... Who am I kidding? My mom would find out and bury me alive.

I slowly grabbed my phone, trying to decide how and who to call first. Finally I decided to call my mother first. It wouldn't hurt right? Try the safest, nicest option first instead of diving into the shark tank.

"Hey sweetie!"- My mother Kara always sounded so happy and excited, so warm and approachable with everyone no matter who or what they did. That was her-. "What are you doing baby?"

"Calculus homework, easy stuff"-. I looked down to my notebook full of numbers and equations, it was easy stuff and I was almost done with it. Thankfully I was almost as smart as my mom-. "Hey ma, so I was wondering, would I be able to spend the night at Gaby's house tomorrow?"

"Did you ask your mom?"

"No? I figured it didn't matter who I asked right? You're both my parents so..."- I used my sweetest baby voice, hoping she would say yes and not question anything else but knowing better.

"Haha you're really funny. Anyways ask your mom, you know the drill Amelia. Love you and see you at home"-. Was the last thing she said before hanging up on me, leaving me with a bunch of complains. I feel like killing myself.

The phone rang twice before my mom picked up.

"Hey my love!"- She sounded so happy. Thank God she was on a happy mood, better than her "work-is-stressing-and-I-like-controlling-my-kid" mood-. "How are you? Did you do your homework? Are you ok love?"

"Yes mom, my school work is done and I already had some food"-. I knew all her questions by heart already, she would ask the same questions every time-. "And yes, all my chores are also done, including my laundry".

"That's perfect baby! Proud of you. Now do you need anything else my love? I've to go into a work meeting soon and you don't call me at work unless you want something".

"So I was wondering, now that everything is done and I'm such a good kid with straight A's could I spend the night at Gaby's tomorrow?"- My princess voice was always a good thing to use.

"Tomorrow? You know I don't like when you wait until the last minute to ask for things like this"-. I knew it, I knew that was the first thing she was gonna say-. "Why did you wait until now?"

"I forgot, I was supposed to ask you early this week but I was so busy with homework. Also it's not tonight, it's tomorrow night"-. Yes, use school as an excuse. She would be so proud that I put my school work before my social life that she would say yes.

"This is a one time thing, ok? Next time you've to ask me in advance or I'll say no. Twenty-four hours isn't in advance and you know that baby"-. YES! It worked, I can go!

"Thank you mom! I love you!"

"Love you too Amy. See you at home".

● ● ●

"So do you have all your stuff?"- Gaby leaned on the locker door next to mine while watching how I took my Calculus book out of my locker, put it on my bag and put my science book back in the locker.

"Yeah, hot party outfit that my mom will burn if she sees it, toothbrush and pajamas"-. I had everything on a bag at the bottom of my locker, waiting to be used. We were going to finish our school day and then we were going straight up to Gaby's house, we would get ready there and then the party-. "I'm ready. How about you?"

"I have a slutty outfit waiting for me at home with some vodka shots"-. We laughed loudly, getting a few looks from people passing by but we easily ignored them.

"Is your mom going to be home tonight?"

"No, she's out of state till next Wednesday"-. We slowly started walking to our Math class, pushing our way through the full school hallway-. "So we're good, no more lies tonight if that's what's worrying you".

"I hate lying to them"-. I finally let out with a tired sigh. She laughed quietly, probably amused at how well she knew me and my rants-. "I know that's what people our age do but still, it makes me feel so bad. Like I'm a horrible daughter and I don't deserve them".

"Stop, we're both great daughters. We have great grades, we don't skip class and we don't do hard drugs. We can go out once in a while and have fun. White lies don't hurt anyone my love".

"Are we sure about that? I bet at some point someone almost died from a white lie"- The classroom was still half way empty as we sat on our regular seats.

"No we're not but it will be fine, we will be fine"-. She was definitely trying to make me stop overthinking, which wasn't working at all by the way. I should have bought my anxiety meds instead of just hoping.

"What are we talking about?"- A male voice behind us made me look back to where our friend, Steve Wade, was sitting. Skinny white boy with longish black hair, taller than us by a whole head, brown eyes, sweet voice and basic clothing style.

"The party tonight".

"Oh yes, are we going to that or...?"- He was madly in love with Gaby' who knew but ignored it, so anywhere we went he would follow us with a smile on his face.

"Yes we are"-. Gaby sounded so excited so I decided to ignore my doubts and anxiety. I'll do it for her. I'll lie to my mothers and stop overthinking for once.

"Do you wanna get ready with us? We're getting ready at Gaby's".

"Sure, am I driving us there?"- Steve was a year older than us so he had gotten his license and own car about a year ago. He usually drove us everywhere, which made me feel bad most of the time so I tried to give him gas money but he constantly refused-. "I'm not planning on drinking so..."

"That would be awesome"-. Gaby send him a kiss, making him blush and look down-. "Let's have some fun tonight babies!"

Original Characters:

Florence Pugh as Amelia Luthor-Danvers/ Astra-El (Kryptonian Name)

Jenna Ortega as Gabriela Alexandra Rojas

Finn Wolfhard as Steve Michael Wade

[ptergwen]

from one kid to another

w/c: 6.0k

warnings: mentions of drinking, lots of swearing, implied smut, and angst at times

summary: it was a mistake, a beautiful one that you didn’t make on your own

a/n: this genuinely is my favorite thing i’ve ever written :,) i say that a lot but this time i mean it, it’s really special i think and i so so so hope y’all do too <3 enjoy my loves

-

there’s only one thing in life that testing positive for is actually positive.

depending on the situation, obviously. yours isn’t ideal, or planned or a blessing or whatever people say. it’s a gigantic mistake that you didn’t realize you made until a minute ago.

you’d noticed something was wrong when your time of the month came and all you experienced was the symptoms. cramps, cravings, everything except your actual period. as everyone is pretty much taught to do, you ran to the closest drug store for a pregnancy test. what the hell else could it be? you messed around a few weeks ago, so there’s a possibility.

your heart felt like it was going to explode out of your chest the whole time you waited for the results. you’d thought of calling tom over for support, but there are a couple of reasons why you couldn’t do that. you realized you made the right decision when your timer for the test went off.

two red lines. you’re pregnant. you’re pregnant, and your best fucking friend is the father.

where do you go from here?

the test falls from your hand and hits the floor with a mocking clank. you slide down until your back is against the bathtub. well, you’re fucked. what an ironic word choice.

the fact that you aren’t ready in the slightest to be a parent when you’re still growing up yourself is one thing. it’s another that this could ruin the most important relationship you’ve ever had.

no, tom won’t be mad. he’s never once fought with or even raised his voice at you. in your times of need, he’s been the one to uplift you and kiss your puffy cheeks dry. no matter how he takes this, you know it won’t be out on you. he is half responsible.

but, with how you left things the last time you spoke, you’re not sure you’ll be able to get past it.

tom is alarmingly good at hiding how he truly feels. you always tease him that it’s because he’s a gemini. he’ll come back with shut up, i’m an actor and stick his nose in the air to give you the full image. in all seriousness, it does take a toll on how well he can communicate.

you’ve seen it in small ways, like when he brings you along for press days and uses unenthusiastic smiles to cover up his yawns. how he’ll be polite in a conversation with people he’d rather not speak to, then mumble about it once you’re home. he tries to put forward the “appealing” parts of himself even though he’s more than them.

tom’s biggest communication issue is that he’s been in love with you since year nine and hasn’t said a word about it. you’ve yet to figure that one out.

you two became friends while tom was starring in billy elliot. his schedule was so scattered between shows and school, so he struggled to balance both. he often had to stay late for extra help on the lessons. you’d also been there a few times. you worked better in the classroom, and he was grateful he didn’t have to be alone with the teacher.

most kids made fun of tom for his interest in theater, to his face and behind his back. not you. you thought it was just incredible that someone in your own classes worked at the west end. you’d told him on your way home one night.

he’d heard you before he saw you. “you’re tom, right?” you asked from behind him, the two of you making your way through the hall. the question sounded friendly, and it wasn’t every day kids were nice to him. tom stopped walking so you could catch up. “yes, and you are?” you gave him a small smile, books clutched to your chest. he instantly returned it.

“y/n. i heard you’re in billy elliot?” you laughed at your understatement, then corrected yourself. “that you are billy elliot, i mean. that’s so cool.” “oh, i am. thank you,” he chuckled back, a full grin taking over his face. you were both walking again, you by tom’s side. “i was hoping to come see you soon.” your voice got quieter as you told him, like you were nervous.

tom never had much luck with girls, not at this point in his life. this was an opportunity to change that. at the very least, to make a new friend. he offered something you said yes to without a beat of hesitation. “what if i got you the tickets?”

from then on, you began talking during class and not only when it ended. tom really knew how to keep the conversation going, telling story after story that left you laughing so much your teacher would shush you. you’d eventually moved to hangouts at either of your houses. harrison came into the mix at some point, the three of you forming your own group.

the difference between tom and harrison was that while harrison linked with other girls, tom was only interested in you. he’d gotten a crush on you pretty fast, if he was being honest. it might have been your shared sense of humor or the way you said his name.

thomas, when he was being cheeky. tommy, which took the place of a pet name. even regular tom. that might have been his favorite. he loved how it rolled off your tongue. he loved, and still loves, you.

you’d gone to all of tom’s performances you possibly could, the ones for school theater included. you also gave him the push to take his talents to hollywood. tom was afraid he wasn’t cut out for the big screen, that he needed more practice and experience first. you told him that if this was what he wanted to do, he had to start somewhere. why wait?

tom then landed his first movie role in the impossible at the age of fifteen. he’d received tons of praise and almost gotten nominated for an academy award, all because you convinced him to audition. you played a huge part in keeping him grounded when he was between films, and caught him up on whatever schoolwork he’d missed.

you practically zoomed to tom’s house when he was announced as the next spider-man. you’d been constantly refreshing every social media platform marvel was on since tom became a finalist for the part. that process was probably the most difficult experience he’s ever gone through. you’d know, having heard all about it from tom.

the two of you celebrated along with the rest of tom’s family that night. you kept giving him little proud of you squeezes on his shoulder or knee. tom is eternally indebted to you for being the most supportive of everything he does.

he of course sends the support right back. although he went down the movie star path, acting wasn’t for you. you’d gone off to university and studied hard as hell and aced all your shit. tom quizzed you on material whenever you needed. he wanted to help you somehow, and this was all you’d let him do.

he’d offered to pay off your loans and any other expenses necessary because he had the money to do that now. you refused every single time, not trying to become dependent on him. he admired your drive, yet hated it at the same time. everything you’d done for him, it was his turn to be the caretaker. it should’ve been.

whenever tom wrapped filming for the holidays and came back home, you were always preparing for final exams. he kept you company, content with simply being in your presence. you typed away on your keyboard and read over notes until your eyes burned. tom occasionally brought you snacks, tea, asked how you were and what he could do.

sometimes, he would have to cut your study time short. he’d say it wasn’t healthy or you were overdoing it and to come relax with him for a bit. other times, tom let you be. he didn’t want to get in the way of your already stressful assignments. those were the nights you’d fall asleep in front of your laptop. drool on your chin, hunched over at your desk.

tom made sure to tuck you in, press a light kiss to whatever part of your face wasn’t covered in spit, then let himself out. he knew where your spare key was, so he used that. you’d wake up to a “Fell asleep studying again. Rest today x” text the next morning.

when it came time for you to graduate, tom was on the first flight there. it was during another round of reshoots for chaos walking. he respectfully told doug that he’d have to work around his schedule or replace him, which couldn’t be done so late into filming. tom didn’t care that it made him seem like a prick. he was getting to you no matter what he had to do.

he’d earned plenty of stares and whispers from people as he took his seat in the crowd. he was a proper celebrity now, so he expected it. his solution was to ignore everything and chat with your family about how proud they were of you, tom the most. he saw you go from a kid attempting algebra equations to an adult at her uni graduation. you’ve really grown up together.

it was why he teared up hearing them call your name, seeing you beam as you walked across the stage. your mom grabbed his hand and nodded at him, like she could tell exactly what was going through his head.

you ran right up to tom after the ceremony was over, leaping into his arms. he let out a couple of chuckles as he spun you around. “i didn’t think you’d make it,” you’d admitted, happy yet sad tears in your eyes. tom put you down so he could pull you in for a real hug. “i’ll always be wherever you are, y/n,” he said into your ear, rocking you while you gripped at his suit collar.

flash forward to a year later, your career is finally taking off, tom’s is flourishing like it has been for years, and you’re pregnant with his child. you’re trying to recall the series of events that led you to this moment.

you were both drunk, blackout drunk because the only reason you remember sleeping together is that you woke up naked in the same bed. harrison’s bed.

he threw a housewarming party for himself, having recently moved out of tom’s and the other boys’ place. the three of them, sam, and you were all in attendance, along with a lot of others you hadn’t met.

neither you nor tom could figure out where he knew all those people from. he’d clinged to you two for the most part, more so you now with tom usually away. they could have been from work. harrison is breaking into the business himself, small roles here and there. tom actually met him in your school’s theater program, then he introduced him to you, ten years ago already.

sam entertained himself by making concoctions with the snacks harrison set out. harry got together a playlist for the party. harrison and tuwaine struck up a conversation with some of harrison’s actor friends. that left you and tom alone, out of stuff to do, and with one way to fix it.

“drink?” tom had asked you, a smirk playing on his lips. “love one,” you hummed back and set off for the kitchen. the two of you raided harrison’s liquor cabinet, grabbing his biggest bottle of wine. he’d dumbly pointed it out during the house tour he gave you before the other guests arrived.

you were about to search for glasses, but tom’s fingers threaded through yours. he gently tugged you away and nodded behind him. “let’s bring this upstairs. seems much more fun there,” he’d murmured over the music, a grin breaking across your face.

tom is big on clubbing and socializing, however, you aren’t. he comes up with ways to get you out of these events, just in case.

“we can break in harrison’s bed for him,” you said as a completely harmless joke, no intentions of that becoming your reality later on. spoiler alert: it did. “and how are we gonna do that?” tom quirked a suggestive eyebrow and breathed out a laugh as you dragged him towards the stairs. despite yourself, you’d giggled at his words.

not one drink in either of you yet, and you were stumbling and cracking up as you ran upstairs. you’d pulled tom by your still attached hands into what you remembered as harrison’s room. tom shut the door, locked it, saying under his breath that would be a “convenient investment” for him to make as well.

he took out a bottle opener that he must have put in his pocket at some point and got to work on your wine, you getting comfortable on the new mattress. the two of you passed it to the other after every sip, tom licking the taste of your lip gloss off his own lips every so often.

the equivalent of three drinks in, you were making out. both of you were just tipsy at this point, tom holding you by your hips as you lied down, your legs around his waist. god, he could’ve done this sober. he’d dreamed about kissing you, really kissing you since he was fourteen. you’d always felt like you two had something more. ah, there it was.

halfway through the bottle got you past the next two bases, and you were ready for the fourth and ultimate one by the time you shook the last few drops onto the tip of your tongue. tom groaned at the sight of that, drawing your half naked body in closer to his.

you two had forgotten to use protection in each of your drunken states. without a doubt, you both would’ve agreed to a condom had your minds not been everywhere but where they should have.

you’d woken up first the morning after, panic immediately coursing through your veins thicker than blood. a fully nude and sleeping tom had you in his embrace, arms secured around your middle, facing you. you gasped when you made the connection, loudly enough to wake tom up. his long eyelashes tickled your face, a confused pout on his lips. uh... um...

“did we fucking...” you trailed off, no words to describe whatever unfolded. “fuck?” tom finished for you. a very blunt explanation, but true nevertheless. “looks like it,” he rasped, pout changing into a smile. your face fell at the vague memories of how you spent your night.

you definitely wanted to do it. just, he’s your best friend, who’s seen you at your least sexy moments over the years. when you were sick, had breakdowns from stress, you name literally anything, tom was there. it took one bottle of cheap wine for him to forget that?

the real answer was no. tom is entirely in love with you, for a decade at that. you were beginning to discover you feel the same, only you had no idea he already loves you. you’d assumed this was meant to be merely a hookup. from the frown your face held, he’d thought you were regretting it. oh, were you both so wrong.

“um... we don’t have to talk about it,” tom told you halfheartedly, under the impression that’s what you preferred. you physically felt yourself get weaker in tom’s strong arms. he’s not interested. “yeah, that’s probably for the best. i...” you were lying. his heart shrunk, shriveled up inside his chest. she doesn’t love me like that.

“you have to go. aren’t you behind on some emails?” tom hoped you didn’t hear his voice strain from the tears pushing at his eyes. “right. almost forgot, thanks.” you’d plastered on a smile, slipping out of his grasp. a tear rolled down his cheek, so he wiped it away before you noticed. you’d already gotten out of the bed and begun picking your clothes up off the floor.

“i’ll drive you home, then.” he rolled on to his other side, you thought so he could give you privacy to change. it was that, and also because he was crying. he couldn’t hold it in. tom is naturally an emotional person. imagine finding out the love you’ve had almost half your life is unreciprocated. it’s soul crushing.

you two found harrison snoring and on top of tuwaine as you left the house. no silly remarks or shared glances for the first time in ten years. tom couldn’t muster anything up, and you felt numb.

the drive was painful. you’d said your goodbyes after tom pulled up to the curb, which held an odd weight to them. once you were out of the car, a sob wracked through him, banging on the steering wheel and not giving a shit about the loud horn going off. you collapsed face first onto your bed. hours passed by while you stared at nothing and contemplated everything.

since it happened, you haven’t spoken much. small talk over text every few days or so, both of you pretending things are normal for the other’s sake. about a month later, today, is when you found out you’re pregnant.

there’s no use wallowing in any of this. you need to figure out your next move, one that should probably involve tom. first, you want to talk to someone else. you want other opinions and a voice in your head that isn’t your own. harrison gets a text from you saying to come over now, the now in all caps. he does.

you let him in after the second knock, his eyebrows furrowing in concern. however torn you are, you must look it. shirt balled in your fists, lip quivering. he keeps his eyes on yours as he steps inside, pushing the door shut behind him. this is all becoming too real. “y/n, are you okay?”

you’re about to cry in three, two...

“haz, i fucked up,” you choke out, tears unable to stay at bay. he takes you into his arms for a hug. half your face is hidden in his shoulder, hands clutching at his back. he lets you cry it out, holding you until your heavy breathing steadies. “what’s happened?” harrison asks quietly, both of you leaving the hug.

“if- if i tell you, you can’t freak out. you can’t tell anyone else, either,” you instruct, searching his eyes for certainty that he won’t under any circumstances. “i won’t, y/n/n,” he assures you and puts an encouraging hand on your arm. your heart pounding abnormally fast, you spit it out. your first time saying it aloud. “i’m pregnant.”

harrison flinches and doesn’t even try to conceal it. he takes his hand off of you, worry swimming across his features. he blinks at you, unsure of what to say. you’d react the same way, maybe worse, so you don’t blame him. a discussion you, him, and tom had a couple years back replays in his mind.

the three of you were talking about your futures, seeing as you were close to living them. when tom asked you two where you stood on having your own families, you didn’t hesitate to answer. “nope, the factory is closed for a long ass time.” until you were in your thirties, you aimed to focus on yourself. harrison distinctly remembered because of how you phrased it.

“you’re... you... wow,” is all he replies with. you head over to the couch, more tears welling up in your eyes. do the pregnancy hormones act up this early? harrison follows you over and sits down next to you with an awkward clearing of his throat. “do you want to be pregnant?” he has to ask because he’s not sure if he should congratulate you or what.

“i don’t know,” you answer honestly, voice airy. your eyes are fixed on the wall in front of you. you haven’t given yourself time to think about it. there are so many reasons you don’t, and a single one you do. “do you, um, know who the dad is?” harrison glances over at you. “yeah.” your voice cracks. you’re both afraid for him to ask what he does next.

he shifts so he’s sitting up. “can i know?” a sniffle passing through you, you finally look at him. “it’s tom,” you say it before you lose the nerve to. harrison’s face doesn’t change this time. he isn’t surprised you and tom went there. he’d seen your friendship growing into more the older you all got. what he can’t believe is where it took you.

his best friend pregnant, and his other best friend responsible for it.

“when did you...” “at your party,” you explain, bringing your legs up so they’re criss cross on the couch. “i thought you were gone a little too long.” he says that to try cheering you up. you appreciate the effort, but it doesn’t work. you’re not in a joking mood. he’ll stick to the main issue. “so, have you told him?”

“clearly not,” you scoff, not at him but at what you two have gotten yourselves into. “y/n... i think you should tell him,” harrison sighs out, then adds, “whether you keep it or not.” “why? that would ruin everything, it already has.” you’re getting angry now, which plunges you into angry crying, voice unsteady as you go on.

“the last time i saw tom was that night, and i guess it meant more to me than it did to him because we haven’t talked about it at all. he didn’t want to.” you swipe the back of your hand across your eyes, gaze stern compared to harrison’s soft one.

he drapes an arm around your shoulders, you curling into him with another sniffle. he doesn’t say anything for a minute, then he tries again. “i know you, y/n, and i know tom. you’ll kill yourselves not talking about this.” he’s right, no shit he is. avoiding telling tom how you feel, and your pregnancy on top of that, it’s eating you up inside. it’s swallowing you whole.

“what if he doesn’t want to be a dad? or- or i’m a shit mum?” you croak out, your doubts getting the best of you. “i can barely take care of myself. what am i supposed to do with a baby?” you’re leaning forward with your hands pressing into your temples. harrison’s hand moves to your upper back. “i- i don’t think i should have them. i... we can’t,” you conclude.

“tom loves kids,” he gives you a gentle reminder. “why would his own be the exception?” another good point, yet you still have rebuttles. “right, he’s a godfather and he’s really good with them and all that, but i’m not the right person, and it’s a terrible time,” you tell him all at once, in a rush to get your words out before harrison’s sway you.

“he’s never around, i’m doing my own stuff. we’re not meant for this.” you lift your head out of your hands and sit back on the couch. harrison returns his hands to his lap. he’s frowning at you, which you see from the corner of your eye. “i’m not going to force you to have the baby. just saying you have options.”

yeah, really shitty ones.

“either way, talk to tom.” harrison says this more like a demand so you’ll take his advice into actual consideration. “at least about the hookup.” your teeth sink into your lower lip, eyes watering for the nth time already.

you have no choice because he’s right again. you’ll never move on from what happened unless you and tom address it.

the next morning, you do what harrison told you to and invite tom over. he replied saying he was on his way maybe a minute later. he’s nervous to see you because yeah, but more so looking forward since it’s been so long. you’re so nauseous you barely have room for nerves. it’s morning sickness with a hint anxiety.

it feels almost normal when he first gets here, no how’ve you been and what are you up to these days? being as close as you and tom are, you’re not capable of such a dry conversation. personally, you still feel uneasy while he recounts a golfing incident him and harry got into the other day. you know something he doesn’t.

“when i tell you we flew, we flew,” tom makes a pushing forward motion with both hands. “right into the tree. i think harry, like, dented part of his face.” he lets out a breathy laugh, you forcing out one of your own. you’d be more interested without the fact that you’re expecting a child, his child, at the back of your mind.

tom exhales, shifting to face you on your couch. it’s funny how different things were when you and harrison sat in these same spots yesterday. so much has and is about to change.

“they had to send another golf cart to come get us. it was wild.” “it sounds wild,” you hollowly agree. he can tell you’re not too invested in hearing about harry’s terrible driving skills, so he changes the subject. “anyway, harrison told me he came over last night?” your stomach drops, heat coming over your whole body.

“did... did he say why?” you murmur with a look of urgency in your eyes. tom shrugs a shoulder, and casually. there’s no way he knows. “no, was he supposed to?” his tone stays playful, which you can thankfully tell. that puts you more at ease. “no. no, never mind. i would’ve asked you to come, but...” you’re searching through your catalog of excuses.

thank god tom says something else because you can’t find a good one. “it’s alright. i actually, um, had a work call.” a small smile spreads across his face, a proud one. intrigued, you raise both eyebrows. “what’d you talk about?” tom twiddles with his fingers in his lap. “i’ve been offered an audition for this really amazing film. everything works out, it’ll be huge for me.”

you’re smiling back this time, putting a hand over one of his. “woah, that’s incredible. i’m so happy for you, tom.” you lock your fingers with his from the back of his hand. he looks down at them, humbly shaking his head. “when is it?” “a few weeks from today. it films in brazil...”

oh. you can’t tell him now. it’s not worth him missing out on a milestone in his career for a baby you’re not sure you should have. that would be so unfair of you to ask. what are you going to do, not support his dreams for the first time in a literal decade? and, you’d call yourself his best friend through it all?

you guess this also means the way you feel about tom is one sided. he’s okay with leaving you after the most intimate moment you two have ever shared. you’ll dance around it the rest of your lives. better yet, act like the night never even happened. that’s not so easy to do when you’ve got a permanent reminder of it.

the thought makes you sick to your stomach. so sick, you could...

while tom is talking more about what the audition entails, you suddenly bolt up from the couch. you run for the bathroom, a hand cupped over your mouth. his face twists up in confusion from your disappearance. tom calls, “y/n/n?” out to you, but you can’t respond because your head is in the toilet. he rushes in when he hears you retching.

he gets onto the floor with you. you’re bent over, puking your guts out, back in another place where your life changed forever less than twenty four hours ago. tom pulls your hair out of your face and into a makeshift ponytail with one hand, his other on your back. that’s all you have in you. you stay over the toilet just to be sure.

saliva drips from your mouth, making you cough roughly, the sound echoing. tom moves so he’s next to you, keeping his hand in your hair and not caring one bit about the smell because he loves you and he’s utterly concerned about what he witnessed.

“love, are you sick?” he coos, searching for your eyes. they water from the intensity of everything. “morning sickness,” you answer without thinking first. shit. shit, shit, shit. it came out of you like more vomit, word vomit. there’s no going back now.

tom lets go of your hair with his eyes still on yours. his hand on your back then leaves you, fingers trailing down your body as they go. “morning sickness,” he repeats, putting it together. “you’re pregnant?” guilt taking over your features, you sit across from tom. you’re once again leaning against the bathtub, him against the counter.

“this isn’t how i wanted you to find out,” you admit and bring your knees up to your chest. “i took a test yesterday. it was positive.” your arms wrap around your legs, you now tearing up because tom figured it out. a shaky breath passes his lips. “i haven’t gone to my doctor or anything yet, but i-“

“are you keeping the baby?” tom cuts in. not to judge you for your choice, to find out what the fuck is going on before he travels across the world. you tighten your arms around yourself, grabbing your wrist. “i haven’t decided.” he gives you an understanding nod and reaches out for you. you dodge him. he might not want to do that after what you say next.

“tom, i... there’s more,” you whimper out. “yeah. i’m... i’m listening,” tom croaks, unable to hold in his infinite amount of emotions for a multitude of reasons. he’s losing you a second time. more tears spill from your eyes as you break the news, the news that will destroy what he’s been working towards his entire life.

“the baby is yours.” his face relaxes, looking almost relieved when you confess it. “when we slept together, uh,” you’re sure it’s obvious enough that you don’t have to go over the details. he’s tearing up himself. you reluctantly continue. “if you still want to audition, i get it. we don’t have to do this.”

“fuck the audition. fuck the whole movie. all of my movies, really,” tom surprises you by blurting out. he moves in until your legs are touching. “i’m staying. even if you don’t have the baby, i have to be here.” you watch in disbelief as he wipes away what are actually happy tears. “really? i was scared you’d resent me for it, or hate me even,” you mumble to him.

“y/n, what? why would i ever do that?” tom places a hand on your cheek, touch gentle and filled with love. you part your legs so he can be closer to you. he takes the space between them, thumb brushing over your skin. “i didn’t think you’d want to deal with all of this. i thought that night was only a hookup for you.” your voice wobbles under his gaze.

“no, are you kidding? i thought that’s what you thought.” he’s smiling now, eyes twinkling along with it. what he’s been meaning to tell you since you were only kids finally comes out. “i’ve loved you as long as i’ve known you, y/n. i always imagined myself doing this with you.” his words draw a quiet laugh from you, a happy one. “i know we were drunk, but i meant it all.”

the sincerity in his voice, the warmth in his eyes, they make you cry all over again. you’re getting used to it.

“i love you, tom,” you lean into him with a sniffle and a grin, his forehead now resting on yours, using his thumb to catch one of your tears. “i really do.” “i love you forever. i always have,” tom speaks lowly, breath fanning across your face. your hands grab at his shoulders. “so, you’ll stay? you’ll do this with me?” he reminds you of what he said before, this time a promise.

“forever.”

-

you ended up having the baby, and tom held your hand through the entire labor. nikki was holding his other hand, your mom holding your other hand. harrison had originally been in the room as well. when you started to push, he got freaked out and had to leave. your support system remained strong either way.

despite his repulsion of your daughter’s birth, you and tom decided to make harrison her godfather. he eventually became the godfather of your other two children also, which you had a few years later.

tom took a paternity leave from the industry so he could be with you and jamie. he’d also used his time off to propose to you, something else he fantasized about since year eleven in school. it wasn’t anything too grand because the whole world was already buzzing about you two, and a big gesture felt too impersonal with everything you’d been through together.

he did it in the form of passing a note, something you often did in class to avoid being scolded by your teacher for talking. the note came with a pencil to check off either the yes or no box, “will you marry me?” written above them. anyone else would have found it so unromantic, but you giggled as you checked off yes before your lips crashed into his smiling ones.

you were married shortly after the proposal, jamie as your flower girl and all your friends and family in attendance.

to do what he loved and stay with the people he loved, tom created his own version of hollywood in london. he took it upon himself to assemble a team and make a production company. harry behind the camera, harrison and tuwaine in the films, and tom either starring alongside them or directing. they give so many young actors tons of opportunities.

you eventually went back to work, too. it was like you’d never left, coworkers offering endless hugs and going over what you missed, not that you struggled getting into it. tom was there to celebrate every promotion, every compliment from your boss, every part of your life. jamie was also there, then liam and lucy.

all three of them are running around the house right now, putting on shoes and collecting their supplies for school. you take a sip of the orange juice liam didn’t finish with a lighthearted eye roll. tom chuckles as he passes you in the kitchen, getting the kids’ lunchboxes for them to minimize the chaos.

“you have that pitch meeting today, right?” he slips his hands through the lunchbox handles and walks over to you. “mhm,” you hum, mouth full with juice. his lips press to your temple, giving your waist a one handed squeeze. “you’ll smash it. always do.” “thanks, tommy.” putting down the cup, you reach up to button whatever parts of his shirt he didn’t have time to.

“aren’t you doing a casting? for the new script they sent?” you wonder aloud and smooth down the cotton material. “me and harry. should be interesting,” he remarks, you giving him a quick kiss back on his chin. they tend to have their artistic differences. “good luck with that. you do drop off, i’ll do pick up?” you pat one of the lunchboxes around his arms.

“deal.” tom goes in for a kiss on your lips, then a chorus of dad, we have to go led by jamie rings through the house. with a knowing smile, you push at his chest. “see you later. love you.” “love you, holland,” he bites back a grin of his own. his last name, now yours, suits you perfectly.

[writing-in-april]

Converging Parallels

Spencer Reid x Female Single Mom Reader (Spencer’s POV)

Summary: Spencer goes to a support group Penelope suggested after the death of Maeve. He quickly connects with a single mom who’s experiences have been similar to Spencer’s.

A/N: I’m prefacing this by saying I know shit about math and am horrible at it lol 😂 so my math analogies might be horribly off 😂 This is my fifth fic for my 30 fics in 30 days for April- this one was requested by @samuel-de-champagne-problems- this is the request- (go check out there fics too!!) I tweaked it a little bit so I hope you enjoy it 🥺 a lot of it is confined to Spencer grappling with his thoughts- but there is dialogue I promise lol 😂I had a good time writing it ☺️Thanks for all the love recently and if you want to drop me an ask for any reason you can do so here- I’m always looking for some new friends on here (I promise I don’t bite lol) Thanks again and hope y’all enjoy 🥰

Warnings: Angst with a hopeful ending, General dealings surrounding death and grief, Mentions of Maeve’s death, Reader’s a widow, Guilt about moving on, Reader’s child is a daughter

Main Masterlist Word Count: 1.6k

Parallel lines were never supposed to meet, they were set on a strict path following in a similar direction with no hope of ever converging. At least that’s what was the widely accepted definition by anyone with any authority in the field of mathematics.

My own math degree was being contested by a set of two lines set on a collision course with each other, though they were not supposed to. Logically I knew that the two lines were not beholden to any mathematical equation as I was referring to two human lives.

We were set on a similar course, only slight differences that seemingly were leading us to different destinations, or at least I tried to convince myself that. I tried every night to convince myself that she was only a friend, that it wasn’t what she wanted and I was desecrating the memory of the person I still claimed to be the only person I loved.

Logically I knew that by forcing where I wanted our relationship to go, what I thought the universe wanted to happen wasn’t what I truly wanted. The reason I had boxed us in so vehemently was only because I was scared and guilty, I knew it too. I wanted us to converge, but logic doesn’t always win out when dealing with guilt.

It had all started with Garcia mentioning that I should consider going to a grief support group after the death of Maeve. Every action I took was being weighed down by her death, whether I cared to admit it or not.

Garcia had good intentions when she suggested going to this meeting to me, of that I was sure. It isn’t that I saw no reason to go to the support group, I just knew that it would dreg up all the unwanted feelings that bombarded me enough already.

The flier in my hands felt heavy even though it was made of paper it weighed my hands down enough where I almost dropped it. I could have let it go then to have it fly away, being taken by the wind, that would let me forget about it. But, I knew it would have only made me forget for a short while, I’d inevitably get questions from Garcia and my own mind wouldn’t let me forget the reality of what had happened. And, logically I knew that it would most likely help. So instead of letting the wind take it away, I crumpled the paper slightly in my hands out of frustration, moving my feet forward one step at a time to enter the building.

That’s where I had first met her. When I first walked in I didn’t immediately lock eyes with her or anything, my eyes were too fixated on the ground for that to happen.

I only noticed her when she was invited to tell her story. Her strength instantly captivated me, almost making me feel like a failure at first. Her story of how she lost her husband was eerily similar in some aspects, especially the cause of his death. The feeling of failure on my part to be strong swirled in my gut as she recounted her struggles that were so starkly similar to mine. She even had a young daughter to take care of as well, she often spoke of her whenever she told her story, almost neglecting herself sometimes- which she admitted she knew she needed to work on.

However, when she came up to me to talk after the meeting was concluded my opinion switched to view her as inspiring. We began getting coffee after each meeting, sometimes talking for hours, sometimes sitting in silence. Whatever I needed she was there to give it to me, whenever she needed help I wanted to be there too.

To see our almost parallel lives begin to converge at first felt like someone had driven a car into traffic about to collide straight into my path. My mind would not stop arguing about whether or not I should pull away from her or not, like guilt was on shoulder and my potential happiness was on the other.

—-

Guilt was eating away at me from the inside out slowly, that part of my mind would not stop clawing away any good aspect of my relationship with Y/N. The relationship between us had shifted in recent weeks, tension invading what had once been a simply platonic connection formed through our shared experiences. When it became clear to me what our lingering stares and touches were leading to, guilt had reared its ugly head to burrow its way down deep and take root.

It had disrupted my sleep even more than usual, nightmares ranging from Maeve guilting me to the visuals of her death. The images of Maeve and any time I had shared with her invaded my brain at all hours of the night, haunting me. I scrunched my eyes up tight, maybe that would banish the images from my brain. That only made the guilt worse it seemed as I now felt double the guilt for wanting to banish the thoughts about a person I still claimed to love.

My hand hit the pillow in frustration, then grabbing it and throwing it to some unknown location across the room. Sitting up, no longer being able to tolerate laying down knowing that sleep would never come, made my exhausted joints beg me to lay back down. I leaned forward to put my head in my hands, also tangling my curls with my fingers. I tried to think about what Y/N had said to me at one of the first meetings I had attended, my normally impeccable memory struggled as the memory of Maeve’s bloodied face would not leave. Screaming internally was the only thing that seemed to work to push the words I was looking for forward,

“I try to think about something my therapist told me- Although it's difficult today to see beyond the sorrow, May looking back in memory help comfort you tomorrow.”

The quote wasn’t something groundbreaking or new, though the origins were unknown. But, the words still struck me deep everytime I forced my memory to call back on them.

The words she had spoken in the meeting when talking about her husband made me want to try too. She inspired me whenever she told snippets of her story to me or the rest of the group, her story had been similar to mine- with the added element of having a daughter to raise on her own.

Her strength was what had drawn me to her initially, like a moth to flame. Our relationship wasn’t even a friendship at first, just two people sharing advice (more her giving it to me) about how to deal with crippling grief.

What had blossomed since then from death and decay had thrown me for a loop. I hadn’t been expecting for this to happen, I never even thought romance would be an option for me again. I thought that I would have one great love and that our time in the sun had ended along with any option for romantic interests in the future.

Then she came along and spun my thinking upside down, not that I blamed her at all for it. She originally had just reached out to help me, not to pursue any romantic connection purposefully while I was vulnerable.

She continued to stay with me to help despite my urge to push her away even though that’s not what I wanted. I tried hard to convince myself that our lives were never meant to connect, that we were destined to remain apart.

It took many more sleepless nights for me to realize what I hadn’t seen for so long, even with Y/N reassuring me at every turn. Maeve would want me to be happy, I was sure of it. So I’d try to let myself, no longer letting myself get hindered by my own swirling thoughts of guilt that Maeve wouldn’t have wanted me to feel.

—-

Asking her out on a date had been surprisingly easy once I had let go a little of my guilt. We had chosen to go somewhere different than a coffee shop, since we already did that often. I took her out to more of an upscale restaurant than she was used to, which may be too fancy for some for a first date, but she deserved it. She worked so hard to take care of her daughter and even me to some extent.

At the end of the night we were both standing outside her door ready to go in to relieve the babysitter for the night. I had already given her a chaste kiss for the night, even though my nerves kept trying to talk me out of it. I was about to say goodbye when she grabbed my wrist to hold in her hands. She looked afraid at first, almost like she wondered if I wouldn’t like her touching me. Touch may bother me with most people, but she wasn’t most people, I’d happily share germs with her. When I did not pull away relief was evident in her eyes, then taking a big breath before speaking,

“Would you like to meet my daughter?” Her voice was shaky, understandably full of worry.

“Of course.” In the past hesitation would have littered my voice if she had asked me the same question. But, my thoughts had been slowly shifting to want our lines to converge fully and with no fear. Sure, Maeve would always capture a place in my heart, but I was ready for our lives to collide. Our parallel lives converged into one line, with a set path forward. It may get derailed from its intended path, but we would be stronger together than apart.

Ask me anything

—-

Tag lists (message me if you want to be added):

All works: @shotarosleftpinky @oreogutz @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar @s1utformgg @takeyourleap-of-faith (damn tumblr just let me tag them)

All MGG characters: @muffin-cup @willowrose99

Spencer Reid/CM: @calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss @slutforthegubes @onlyhereforthefanfics @jareauswifey

[teenwolffan-with-nolife]

New Life Pt.2

Word Count: 1,730

Characters: Young!Derek Hale, Zach Salvatore, Stefan Salvatore (brief), OC Characters, Reader

Pairings: Zach Salvatore x Platonic!Reader 

Warnings: angst, small fluff, TW: death

A/N: okay! since my other series is coming to an end, I decided to start this one up again. This series is a crossover between The Vampire Diaries and Teen Wolf, taking place after the Hale fire, in Mystic Falls. You do not need to know anything about Vampire Diaries to read this series, nor do you need to know much about Teen Wolf.

A/N 2: This series is sort of a pre-series to another series that I have planned after this one, which will take place around season 3 of teen wolf, and around season 4-5 of Vampire Diaries

Masterlist         Series Masterlist

“Happy birthday (Y/N)!” you heard your mom’s voice as she walked into your room, waking you up.

You smiled softly, wrapping your arms around her.

“Thanks, Mom,” she stroked your cheek softly before kissing your forehead.

“Come get ready, there’s a surprise for you downstairs, okay?” she said.

You nodded your head before she hugged you once again.

“My baby’s growing up,” she said to herself, before leaving your room.

---

Your body shot up in your bed as you opened your eyes, taking deep breaths. You were still in your room at Zach’s house. You let out a shaky breath before looking at the clock. It was only 4. There was no way you were going back to sleep now.

You continued to sit on your bed for a while, taking a breath while you thought back to the events of the past year. It had already been one year, something you seemed to have trouble gripping. It was now April 16th, your 16th birthday came.

You changed your clothes, trying to keep your mind off what today was as you tied up your hair, leaving a note for Zach that you’d be out on a run. Music and running always seemed to help clear your mind. You raised the volume as high as it would go, plugging in both headphones before you walked out of the house.

---

“Mom?” you walked downstairs, finding your boyfriend instead of your mom.

“Jay, what are you doing here?!” you exclaimed happily, while he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“You thought I was gonna forget your birthday?” he smirked, making warmth flutter throughout your body.

“I’m really happy you’re here,” you felt a slight blush on your cheeks.

“I wouldn't miss it for the world. Now, come with me.”

---

You dug your nails into your hand, walking into school.

The only thing you could think of was your mom. You knew what happened was all your fault and your mom was the one who had to suffer because of your dumb mistakes.

“Hey, happy birthday, (Y/N),” you heard Dean’s voice from behind you as you turned to face him.

“Uhm, thanks,” you gave him a tight smile.

“You idiot!” you saw Emily yell at Dean, before smacking his arm.

“Ow!” he exclaimed.

“Don’t you remember last year? She doesn't want to celebrate her birthday this year!” Emily whisper-yelled, and seemed to forget about you standing right there.

“Em, leave him be. I’m fine. But we need to get to class,” your and Emily’s relationship was confusing to most people.

The two of you hated each other, but were always the first ones in line to protect one another from anything or anyone. Sometimes, she would annoy you, but other times you were grateful, not that you’d ever admit that to her.

Emily wrapped her arm around your shoulder.

“You don't have to pretend to be so brave,” she squeezed you in a tight hug while you groaned.

“Emily, really, get to class,” you saw Derek approaching you, looking a little upset.

Oh, great 

“I was under the impression that you were gonna give me a ride to school today,” he started.

“Oh, what made you think that?” you were slightly annoyed by him while he groaned.

“Because! I asked you last night! You said that you’d give me a ride,” he replied.

“Okay, wolf-boy, calm down. It was an accident,” you rolled your eyes, leaving Derek standing there with his mouth open, in shock.

Just as he thought the two of you were becoming friends.

You walked into your first-period class, sitting in your seat.

----

“Mom?” you groaned softly, putting your head up as you squinted your eyes, looking around the dark room.

“Mom!” you felt the ropes tied to your wrists and ankles as panic began to rise in your chest.

“Mom!” you cried out again.

“(Y/N)! I-I’m right here,” she cried out.

The lights flipped on, while you saw your mom in front of you, tied to a chair with blood dripping from wounds.

Your eyes watered immediately, as you tried to pull yourself out of the ropes, screaming out for your mom.

“(Y/N), calm down,” your mother’s voice remained calm while you cried softly.

“Mom, you’re bleeding,” you cried.

“I know, I know, kiddo. Just stay calm,” she said softly.

“W-Who… Who did this?” your voice was shaking as you saw a familiar figure walk into the room.

“J-Jay… what are you doing?”

---

“Miss (Y/L/N)!” you peaked your head up, hearing your teacher call your name.

“Yes, sir,” you cleared your throat.

“What’s the equation?” you flipped through your notebook, before reading it aloud.

“A squared plus B squared plus C times x plus D times x plus E,” your teacher gave you a look before looking back at the board.

“Did you just fall asleep?” you heard Derek whisper to you.

“Shut up, I’m trying to learn,” you replied.

“What's going on with you? Really? You're acting differently,” he asked.

“Shut up, Derek,” you said again.

“Derek, (Y/N). Detention,” you rolled your eyes, clenching your jaw before glaring at him.

His face softened before he leaned back in his chair.

“Now, open up to page 384…”

---

“You got me detention! I’m allowed to be mad at you!” you slammed the door shut as you and Derek entered the Salvatore house.

“I already said sorry! I just wanted to know what’s wrong-” 

“Have you ever considered that you’re my problem?! You with your constant blabbering! I couldn't care less about you and your life!” you yelled at him, while he flinched.

Your face softened before you clenched your jaw.

“I’m sorry,” you sighed.

“Don’t… I’ll leave you alone,” you could feel guilt immediately washing over you as he walked away, going to his room while you heard the door close.

“(Y/N)?” Zach walked to you, looking concerned.

You groaned softly, before shaking your head.

“I was being dumb,” you replied softly.

“What’s wrong?”

---

“What did we ever do to you?!” you screamed, watching as your boyfriend tied a cloth around your mom's mouth, holding a knife to her throat.

“She killed my parents!” he yelled.

“N-No, you’re getting it confused, o-okay?” you cried.

“So your mom isn’t an ex-hunter?” he scoffed.

“S-She… She is but she never did anything wrong!” you cried.

“My family was innocent!” he yelled. you saw his eyes glow grey, while he growled at you.

“Tell her what happened, Mrs. (Y/L/N)...”

---

“(Y/N),” you heard Zach knock at your door as you wiped your tears, sitting up.

“Is Derek okay? I-I didn't mean to scare… I would never hurt him,” you said softly.

“I think he was just surprised. But he’s fine. He’s actually asking how you’re doing,” Zach sighed.

“I’m fine,” you shrugged.

“Do you think I forgot what today is?” he sat down on your bed next to you.

You looked down, keeping your focus on your hands.

“What happened… what happened was terrible, and there's no way to fix it or make it go away,” Zach started.

“Zach, stop,” you shook your head, blinking back your tears. You took a deep breath, trying to gather your words.

“I-I…” your voice cracked as you dug your nails into your palms.

“Every time I close my eyes, I can see my mom dying. I-I can see Jay killing her,” you buried your face in your lap, trying to hold back your cries.

“You never told me that before,” he said.

“I thought you’d be mad at me,” you said softly.

“Why would I be mad at you?”

“B-Because… you were ready to propose to my m-mom, and then I got her killed,” he caressed your back, trying to calm you.

“It wasn’t your fault. Things happen for a reason,” you knew he wouldn't be able to convince you it wasn't your fault, so you just nodded your head.

“How about you get some rest?” he kissed your forehead softly while you nodded before he left your room.

---

“Your family killed people. That’s why they’re dead,” you spat.

“(Y/N), just stop. Jay, I-I’m so, so sorry,” your mom apologized.

“No! It’s too late! They're dead!” he yelled.

“Jay, please. The past is the past. Please don’t hurt her,” you begged.

“She killed my parents and I had to watch. Now you’ll know how it feels,” you screamed out while he dragged the knife into her throat, while you watched the blood drip from her throat, her body going limp.

You cried loudly, screaming out as you pulled as hard as you could, trying to break free of the ropes.

“(Y/N)? Oh my god,” Stefan ran to you, taking the ropes off as he gasped, looking at your mom.

You fell into his arms, sobbing as he wrapped his arms around your shaking figure, trying to calm you.

---

You stood in front of Derek’s door, debating on whether or not to go in or not. You felt guilt for what you did to him, but were never one that was good with confrontation.

You froze in front of the door, before it opened, Derek’s surprised look in front of you.

“(Y/N),” he replied.

“Hey! Uhm, well, I just wanted to say…” you started, your voice drifting off.

He crossed his arm, leaning against his doorway, with a small smirk on his face.

“Well, don’t strain yourself,” he muttered.

You gasped, smacking his arm lightly before shaking your head, earning a small chuckle from him.

“I wanted to say sorry for snapping at you, okay? You don’t have to be an asshole,” you replied.

“Wow, thank you for that, I can’t imagine how hard that must have been on you,” you could hear the sarcasm in his voice as you rolled your eyes.

“I’m trying to be nice,” you scoffed.

“Oh, yeah, I forgave you hours ago. It’s just fun to see you like this,” he laughed.

“Derek!” you started.

“I know it’ll kill you to talk about. Now, what do you say we just go to a movie, and you pay, okay?”

“Oh, god, yes,” he wrapped his arm around your shoulder before the two of you made your way downstairs.

“Oh, happy birthday, by the way,” you raised an eyebrow, before he gave you a look, walking out of the house with you.

[thelastspeecher]

marriage of convince perhaps Ford finally getting the nerve to talk to his mother about the situation once he, Jimmy, Angie and Stan have settled down and are more comfortable with their current situation?

              Ford stared at the phone sitting in front of him on the table.  A gentle hand rested on his shoulder.  He looked up.

              “You need to call her, Stanford,” Angie said.  “It’s past time.”

              “I know, but-”

              “No buts,” Angie said firmly. Her hand slipped from his shoulder and she sat in the chair next to him.  “No excuses.  The kids are out fishin’ with Jimmy, Stan took the quads to the library.  It’s just you ‘n me here now.”

              “Yes,” Ford said faintly.  He put his hands on the table, bracing himself.  Angie smiled.  She took ahold of Ford’s right hand, interlacing her fingers with his.  The gesture was familiar and comforting.

              Ford was brought back to all the other terrifying phone calls he’d made to his mom.  News of delays in his education and career search, of marriage and children and divorce.  For each one, Angie had been by his side.  He squeezed her hand.  Still smiling, Angie squeezed back.

              “Call, dear,” she said.  Ford nodded.  He took a deep breath, picked up the phone, dialed, and turned speaker on.  With that, he set it back down on the table.

              It rang twice before someone on the other end picked up.

              “Pines residence, Caryn speaking, who’s calling?”  Ford knew his mom’s signature rapid-fire line well.

              “Hello, Mom.”

              “Stanford!  How are things in Oregon?”

              “They’re going well.”

              “Those kids of yours behaving?”

              “Yes, actually.  Far better than I expected, given the upheaval in their lives.”

              “Well, you come from a long line of survivors.  Makes sense they’d adapt better ‘n average,” Ma Pines said idly.  “So, why are you callin’?  I know you, you never call unless you have some sorta big news.”

              “You’re correct, I did call because I have something important to tell you,” Ford said.  Angie raised an eyebrow in a silent question.  After years of marriage, Ford could read her like a mathematical equation.  He knew precisely what she was asking.

              “Do ya want me to say somethin’ so she knows I’m here?”  In response, Ford shook his head.  Bringing Angie into the conversation would only delay him telling his mother why he called.  Ma Pines adored Angie and could chat endlessly with her.

              Which has been excellent in the past, but I don’t want to prolong this conversation.  Angie nodded.  She sat back, slipping into her old role of silent supporter.

              “All right, spit it out, then,” Ma Pines said impatiently.  Angie squeezed Ford’s hand again.

              “Do you recall what you said when I told you of my divorce?”

              “I believe I asked you it you were leavin’ Angie for another woman.  You said you weren’t.”  There was a pregnant pause.  “You’re not callin’ to tell me you lied, are you?” Ma Pines asked dangerously.

              “No, I-”

              “‘Cause if you lied to me, when all I did was support you durin’ your divorce-”

              “No!  Mom-”

              “Did you get this other woman pregnant?”  Ford looked helplessly at Angie.  “Stanford, I don’t like to throw the term ‘disown’ around lightly, but-”  Angie leaned in.

              “Hey, Caryn,” she chirped.

              “Angie!”  It was like a switch had been flipped, Ma Pines’ furor was so quickly replaced with delight.  “Sweetheart, how are you?”

              “I’m fine,” Angie said.  “I was just walkin’ through the room when I overheard this conversation.  And I have to say, I think yer goin’ down the rabbit hole again.”

              “But-”

              “There is not and never has been another woman,” Angie said smoothly.  “Please, let Stanford explain ‘fore ya jump all over him.”

              “All right,” Ma Pines said begrudgingly.  Ford breathed a sigh of relief.  He was able to handle his mom on his own, but Angie could always do it faster. “Explain, then, Stanford.”

              “I mentioned what you told me after my divorce because I have in fact found someone.”  Angie nodded encouragingly.  “But rest assured,” he said quickly, “I met him quite some time after the divorce.”  Angie’s eyes widened.

              “…Him?” Ma Pines asked.  Ford closed his eyes.

              Dammit!  He’d planned on easing her into the news.  But I was so frantic to dispel her misconceptions that I blurted it out!

              “Yes,” he said quietly, deciding to just get it over with.  “I’m in a romantic relationship with a man.”

              “I see.  Well…”  Ma Pines trailed off.  “I understand better why you divorced, then.  I knew there was more to it than what you said.”

              “Mom…”

              “Gimme a moment, Stanford.”

              “Okay.”  Ford swallowed.  Silence stretched on uncomfortably.  Just as Ford was about to say something to break the tension, Ma Pines spoke.

              “All right,” she said finally.  “I accept this.”

              “Pardon?”

              “I accept it.  I won’t deny it.  Honestly, now I think about it, I’m not too surprised.”

              “You’re- you’re okay with it?” Ford asked, astonished.

              “I wouldn’t go that far yet.  Gimme a few days.  I’ll call when I’m ready, and when I do, you better tell me all about this man of yours, okay?”

              “Okay.  But, ah, in the meantime-”

              “Don’t worry, I won’t say a word to your father.”

              “Thank you,” Ford said gratefully.  “I love you.”

              “Love you too, Stanford.”  There was a click.

              “She hung up without sayin’ goodbye to me!” Angie said in shock.  “Wow.  She must be more shook than she came off as.”

              “Even taking that into consideration, her reaction is infinitely better than I feared.”

              “Yes, it went very well.”  Angie smirked at Ford.  “So well that she wants to hear about Jimmy.”

              “Oh, Moses.”  Ford dragged his hands down his face.  “Don’t remind me.”

              “I’d recommend havin’ Jimmy on that call so’s she can talk to him.”  Angie cocked her head thoughtfully.  “Actually, I wouldn’t mind bein’ ‘round m’self.”  She grinned mischievously.  “I have to see how she reacts to learnin’ yer new beau wears a leather jacket and drives a motorbike.”

[softpine]

Could we get another you don't have to read but it's interesting text post?? 👉👈

omg i hope this is what you meant, but umm here’s some backstory about griffin’s roommates? because even my nameless extras apparently need deep lore in my mind?? fjkjsd

TW: mentions of drug addiction, homelessness, religion, abuse, and biphobia. + me not being able to stop talking ever.

jeremy; 19. gay. [also the guy from this post.] jeremy grew up smack in the middle of the bible belt. his parents wanted him to grow up and be a pastor like all the generations before him. he was a model child and no one expected him to run away, so his parents actually thought he was kidnapped when, on a random tuesday, he left in the middle of the night with nothing but the clothes on his back. the police found him wandering towards the bus stop just a few hours later and dropped him back at home. everyone then repeated the same cycle again and again for years, before jeremy’s parents got fed up and agreed to legally emancipate him if he agreed to just stop embarrassing their family. he finally hit the road on his own when he was 15.

he met griffin at a train station out west a while later. griffin had just left his aunt’s house, and neither of them had any place to be. jeremy is the one that taught him how to pickpocket (although there was a lot less flirting involved in jeremy’s method – he relies heavily on the “dumb tourist desperately needing directions” angle). but jeremy can never stay in one place too long, so he left. a year later, they happened to bump into each other in another state and decided a coincidence like that was too big to ignore. so they started traveling together and eventually ended up in nyc, where they stayed. (well, kinda. jeremy disappears for weeks at a time and comes back with all kinds of stories.)

griffin sometimes gets pissed because jeremy likes to equate their 2 childhoods, but they were really nothing alike. sure, jeremy’s family was oppressive and he could never be himself around them, but they were wealthy, they loved him, they never laid a hand on him, and they’re still hoping he comes home someday. jeremy didn’t leave because he had to, he left because he wanted to. but he can’t seem to grasp the difference. still, he listened when griffin told him he should reach out to his family and let them know he’s okay. now they have scheduled phone calls once a month and they’re all happy with that amount of communication. 

all in all, jeremy is still a kid. he loves comic books, action figures, the atari he & griffin split 50/50, and going to the movies. he’s always looking for the next big adventure or something to make him feel more alive. unfortunately, that’s taken him to some darker places with drugs and alcohol, but he’s doing okay right now. he was worried about moving into an apartment because he thought it would make him feel too trapped, but he actually likes having a place that he chose, that no one is forcing him to be at. oh and no, he and griffin have never dated. jeremy just doesn’t know what personal space means. 

eddie; 34. straight [but probably aro/ace in modern terms]. he’s already been divorced three times, which he assumed is because he's a pushover, never fights for anything or takes his own stance, and seemingly lacks passion in every aspect of his life. for almost ten years, he worked as a personal accountant in the upper east side. his days were mundane: he ate the same breakfast (oatmeal), the same lunch (ham & cheese sandwich), and the same dinner (chicken noodle soup) every day. somewhere around the time of his third divorce, he realized he wasn’t going to find fulfillment unless he searched for it, so he quit his job, cashed out his family inheritance, and traveled through europe. as he was living in hostels and hitchhiking and relying on the kindness of strangers, he started to become well-acquainted with the homeless communities in every place he visited. he realized how out of touch he had become, and how privileged he was to be bored with his life. and thus, he had found his passion.

when he returned to new york, he got a new job in finance for a nonprofit organization for the homeless. that was nice and all, but he never got to see the benefits of his work, so he started volunteering at food banks and shelters. that’s where he met jeremy and griffin. jeremy was fascinated by how truly dull eddie is. he kept waiting for eddie to reveal some deep, wild, secret part of him, but it never happened. eddie never even bragged about his adventures in europe; he would always turn the conversation back around to others. by the time jeremy realized he really is that boring, he was already looking up to eddie as an older brother type (and griffin was just along for the ride).

eddie is the one that’s actually renting the apartment and then renting out the extra space to griffin, jeremy, and vincent at dirt cheap rates while they get on their feet. he agreed to keep doing this as long as they all have jobs (pickpocketing doesn’t count) and try to stay clean in jeremy’s case.

vincent; 21. bi. vincent grew up comfortable, but not wealthy, in queens, with his family who emigrated from singapore before he was born. his parents later got divorced, and now he’s the oldest of a combined total of seven siblings, though he’s always been closer to his mom and stepdad. growing up, his grades were just average, he had a few friends but was too shy to be popular, and he wasn’t particularly athletic either – he was on the swim team for a while, but he hated the competitive aspect. his favorite part was staying behind after practice and having the pool all to himself; he would float on his back for hours, just watching the pool lights reflecting on the ceiling. he struggled to fit in at school. this all changed when he started weightlifting during his senior year. he mainly started doing it as a way to keep himself busy, but he soon realized that the more fit he got, the more attention people paid him. he liked that.

soon after, he started his first relationship with a girl, kelly, who he intended to marry someday. they graduated high school together and both enrolled at the same college – though vincent hadn’t decided a major yet – and things were going great. he even came out to her as bi and she took it really well (especially for the time). they were settled into an apartment of their own at 19.

in his quest to figure out his major, vincent took up all kinds of new hobbies, his favorite being drumming. he even started a garage band with some of his friends. they started playing house shows, which ended up being somewhat popular, though they don’t expect to make it big anytime soon. at one of these shows, vincent ran into griffin and they bonded over their love of rock music. when vincent found out that griffin didn’t have a place to stay that night, he invited him to sleep on his couch – understandably, kelly was angry that he didn’t ask first.

kelly got increasingly more upset as time went on and vincent & griffin became better friends. even though nothing romantic ever happened between them (and i sure hope not, because griffin was like 16 at the start), kelly was convinced that vincent was cheating on her and that she was only there to cover for his “true” sexuality. when they inevitably broke up, vincent was devastated. not only that, but he now had to find a new place to live asap. that’s when griffin mentioned that he and jeremy were renting rooms from eddie and that vincent was welcome to join. and that takes us up to the present! (well, the “present” being 1987).

[calligraphist-artemisia]

The Fourth Moon of Kr'vta

For Kidgemas 2020. The prompt for December 27 is “Snow Angels”.

Summary: While Lance tries to convince Allura that they should take a vacation on a snow planet, Keith and Pidge take matters in their own hands and set off without the rest of the paladins.

Also posted on AO3 under the username “kishirokitsune”.

❄ - ❄ - ❄ - ❄

There was only so long that Pidge was willing to watch Lance's painfully awkward attempts at flirting with Allura while also trying to convince her that a vacation on a planet covered in snow was exactly what they all needed. (Though why Lance “I-hate-the-cold-and-will-bundle-up-in-sweaters-if-the-temperature-drops-below-60” McClain wanted to go play in the snow would remain a mystery that she didn't care enough to solve.) She took a good look around to make sure Coran, Shiro, and Hunk were too preoccupied to pay her any attention and then she tapped Keith on the arm and gestured towards the doors.

It took Keith a few seconds to understand what she was indicating and then he nodded and they left the bridge without anyone noticing. Once the doors shut behind them, he turned to Pidge to ask what she wanted.

Pidge raised an eyebrow. “Who do you think helped Lance find a planet that's safe enough for us to visit? I figure we may as well enjoy it before Allura fully shuts down Lance's idea.”

A flicker of confusion crossed Keith's face. “You... want to go play in the snow?”

“Yeah, it sounds like fun,” Pidge said with a shrug. “Mom and dad used to take us to a snow lodge on some holidays just to get away from everything. Matt and I always had a blast. If it's not something you're into I understand, but I'm still going to go.”

Keith was quiet for a moment but he didn't hesitate to continue following her. It was as they drew close to the fabrication room and slowed down to open the door, that he softly admitted: “I've never seen snow before.”

Pidge paused long enough to glance his way and give him a smile. “Then we better get you suited up.”

The door slid open before them and Pidge led the way to the fabricator on the far side of the room. A variety of fabric samples were hung around the rest of the walls, all labeled so that someone could fully customize their clothing if they wanted. The only place along those three walls that didn't have fabric was a door leading to the changing rooms. For Pidge it was all familiar; she'd visited the room a number of times to recreate her favorite sweater, as well as to make a variety of shirts that she wore beneath it.

“What is this place?” Keith asked as he looked around.

“Wait, you've never been to the fabrication room?” Pidge asked with a frown. “How have you been wearing the exact same thing this whole time? I thought Shiro was going to show you how to use this!”

Keith shrugged. “I think he was planning to, but I never saw the point. I just use the shower in my room to wash everything at the end of the day and let it dry overnight.”

Pidge made a sound like she wanted to say something, but instead turned away to cover up her grin. It really wasn't a surprise that Keith was so self-sufficient in such an unnecessary way. She found it charming, in its own way.

“We'll talk about that later, but right now we're making you a coat. And a hat and gloves. Maybe some thicker pants,” Pidge mused. “You know, I made fun of Lance when he spent an entire day in here trying to input styles from Earth, but I may have to thank him for doing that, otherwise we'd be running around in the snow in our armor instead. Yes, that's an option. No, we're not doing that.”

“I guess that would ruin the spirit of things,” Keith remarked, sounding as though he was trying not to laugh.

“It would.”

Pidge directed Keith to step up onto a raised platform so the system could scan him for his measurements. Soon after, she made a few quick selections on the screen and the fabrication machine went to work. It wasn't long before there were two bundles of clothing deposited in a chute in-between the screen and the platform where Keith stood.

“Here's yours,” Pidge said, gesturing to the bundle of red-and-black. Her own was noticeably green, and she scooped it up into her arms and set off to the changing room without waiting for Keith.

She took her time stripping out of her sweater, tank top, and shorts, carefully folding each and setting them to the side so she could retrieve them later, until she was standing only in her underwear. There was a brief moment where she admired the way the red looked against her pale skin but that moment quickly passed and she chastised herself for moving so slowly when Keith was undoubtedly waiting for her.

Pidge redressed in her chosen clothing – a white turtleneck and weatherproof gray pants (which had a texture somewhat similar to jeans), over which she wore a simple pea-coat in emerald green. To complete her ensemble were a pair of dark gray boots, as well as white gloves and a knit hat.

When she left the changing room, Keith was waiting for her as he pulled on his own gloves, which were black to match his pants and boots. His coat, which was similar in style to Pidge's but longer, was an attractive shade of red and he wore a scarf and hat that matched. He lifted his head as she approached, his eyes flickering over her form.

“Ready to go?” Pidge asked. “I was thinking we could take the Red Lion, since she's the fastest.”

Keith didn't hesitate to agree and it wasn't long before the pair of them were flying out into space with Pidge giving out the coordinates for Keith to input. To keep the others in the dark for a little while longer (and to buy more time to fully enjoy the snow), they temporarily turned off communication to the Castle of Lions.

“So, where exactly are we going?” Keith asked.

“The fourth moon of Kr'vta,” Pidge replied. “The poles are a whole new scale of subarctic, at least compared to Earth, but around the equator it usually stays just under freezing and it's perfect for snow.”

Kr'vta itself was a massive gaseous planet and was surrounded by several sets of icy rings, not unlike Saturn. Only the two largest moons had names – Kr'x and Kr'tn – and both were slightly larger than Earth and capable of housing life. The third largest moon had a liquid surface too hot for most species to handle. The fourth moon was known for its icy cold temperatures and while there were once several outposts established there, all intel suggested they had been abandoned for more profitable locations.

The Red Lion landed on the surface of the moon without any problem and Pidge and Keith were soon disembarking into the snowy landscape.

Pidge breathed in deeply, enjoying the crisp, fresh air.

It had been so long since she last got to enjoy the snow. Plaht City never saw snow even during the coldest years, so the only time she saw any was during the winters when her family would vacation at a ski resort in the mountains. She had such fond memories of racing Matt to be the first one to make snow angels.

Her eyes lit up and she grabbed Keith's hand, tugging him farther out into the snowy field.

“Pidge, what-?”

“I'm going to show you how to make snow angels!”

She took his silence as agreement.

“The hardest part is standing up without ruining the image once you're done. Matt and I found the best way is to get someone else to help you up. Our parents were always willing to lend a hand, but in this case it'll just be me and you.” Pidge released his hand and took a few steps away. “Do you want to go first?”

“Um, maybe you should? That way I can see how it's done,” Keith said.

Pidge grinned at him as she spread her arms wide and tucked her chin against her chest before letting herself fall backwards. The snow cushioned her fall, the fresh top powder resettling and melting on her face. She giddily moved her arms and legs until she was sure she had the perfect image imprinted into the snow and then she raised her arms. “Lift me up, Keith!”

She could hear snow crunching beneath his feet as she approached and then saw a pair of hands come into view as he carefully grasped hers and began to pull her up and forward. It was when she was halfway up and able to stand on her own that she realized a problem, but it was too late.

Keith overestimated the amount of strength needed to help her up and yanked her fully into his arms, which knocked him off balance and backwards into the snow with Pidge on top of him.

For a few long seconds, they could only lay there.

And then Pidge started to laugh.

Keith snorted and was soon laughing just as hard, both of them lost to mild hysteria over their own silliness.

Pidge lifted herself up, suddenly aware of Keith's arm around her waist, and her breath caught in her throat as she witnessed pure joy light up his face. She couldn't bring herself to get up and ruin the moment, too enraptured by how gorgeous he looked. (And she'd always found Keith attractive, but seeing him so happy made him even more so.)

The moment was eventually broken with the roar of a Lion from overhead and the rush of wind generated from the Blue Lion coming in for a fast landing.

Keith's laughter faded away, but his smile did not. “I think Lance ruined your snow angel.”

“I'm sure I can think of a suitable punishment. Want to help?” Pidge asked as she reluctantly stood. She held out her hand to help Keith, though he didn't need it.

“If it means I can shove snow down his coat? Absolutely.”

Pidge covered her mouth with one gloved hand to cover the giggle that bubbled up. “I think I can arrange that.”

[bimboamyrose]

Unfamiliar - A Metamy Fanfic (Ch. 3)

hi babes~ thanks to those of you that messaged me your thoughts on the first 2 chapters; it encouraged me to continue. just finished looking over ch 3 and thought i would post here as i still have not received my invite to ao3 (does anyone know how long that’s supposed to take?). enjoy and feel free to leave me your ideas and comments ❤️

Ch. 1-2 + synopsis here

Ch.3 – Jagged

Amy and Cream bustled around the kitchen, picking up after their lunch. Metal sat, watching and listening, occasionally looking back at the small whiteboard with his name on it. He pondered about his past silently; wondered what his relationship with Tails, Amy, and Cream had been. What little he could remember only added to the mystery, but for now their simple goodwill was more than appreciated.

“So Cream, what did you need help with?” Amy asked her.

Cream was drying the last of the dishes and handing them to Amy to stack away in the cupboard. “Oh, thanks for reminding me. Actually, I have some schoolwork I need help with. Mom was having trouble with it, too.” Cream didn’t attend a physical school but worked with a tutor occasionally to complete some remote learning at her mother’s behest.

“What kind of work?”

“Some algebra. I find it sort of confusing.”

Amy squirmed uncomfortably. She hadn’t exactly had a formal education and was more well-versed in language and history than math and science anyway. “Don’t you think this is more of a Tails question?”

“He can be so impatient!” Cream huffed.  “I asked him for help a few weeks ago but he got frustrated with me.”

“I can see that,” Amy sighed. Tails was passionate about his work to a fault. He was good-natured and caring, but a strong teacher he was not. The boy was easily exasperated when others failed to keep up with him and generally preferred to work on his projects alone. “You know he means well, Cream. He doesn’t realize what a weird little genius he is,” she giggled.

“I guess so. But do you think you could help me?” Cream pleaded.

Amy shrugged. “I’ll try. But let’s ask him if we get stuck anyway.”

The girls finished clearing up and sat back at the kitchen table with Cream’s notebooks. Metal watched them read from some worksheets and try to work out some problems. Amy guided her through the first two, challenging Cream to finish the equations.

“Okay, let me check if that’s right…” Amy wasn’t totally sure she knew how to solve it either, but was pleased when the answers matched. “It is! Good job, Cream,” she beamed at her friend.

Seeing this, Metal scraped away at the writing on his whiteboard and followed along as they read the next equation out loud.

Amy cleared her throat. “Okay, write this down. ‘5×2 + 6x = 3, solve for x.’ Hmm. Let’s take a look at your notes and see if we can figure this one out…”

It took Metal a second to solve it, and a few more to write it out on the little white tablet. He chimed at the girls, holding up his work for them to see.

Cream looked up from her notes to examine the whiteboard. “Is that right, Amy?”

“Let me see…. Yeah! That’s the answer.” She turned to Metal with an impressed smile. “You’re like a walking calculator, Metal.”

She said his name. She seemed proud of him. That was a strange feeling- but not a negative one. He chimed again as a sense of enjoyment overtook him.

“I wish I could do that! But I have to show my work and I’m not sure where to start…” Cream returned to her notes, trying to understand the steps to take.  

Amy put down the worksheet. “What did you do first, Metal?”

He searched his recent memory for the calculations and scraped the answer off the whiteboard to make way for his response.

“Hey Cream, doesn’t that look a lot like this?” Amy pointed out a sample in Cream’s notes that used a similar structure to Metal’s.

“Oh, I think you’re right.” Cream wrote down what she understood to be the next step to solving the problem and showed it to him. “Is this how you did the next part?”

Her writing matched his earlier calculations and he nodded. It was impressive that she picked it up that quickly, he thought.

“Look at you, Cream! You already know more than I do,” Amy giggled.

She watched as Cream and Metal completed the problem together, matching up each step of the process. It took her a few minutes, but Cream matched Metal’s work exactly each time, arriving at the correct answer. Amy was incredibly relieved at his help- she wasn’t convinced she’d be able to solve it on her own, much less guide her friend through the process. The three answered a few more questions together over the next hour; Amy mostly reading from the answer key to confirm their responses.

“That was the last problem. Finally, that’s out of the way!” Cream cheered. “You guys are lifesavers.”

“I would’ve been useless after the first two problems,” Amy chuckled. “Maybe I should get a tutor, too.”

“You have Metal; I bet he knows a lot of stuff.” Cream responded, packing away her schoolwork.

“I don’t want to make a habit of it…” Amy trailed off. She noticed how dirty the whiteboard had become. Metal had been wiping his palm over it roughly and left scratch marks and marker smudges on the surface. “I think we should get you a new white board.”

“Don’t worry about it, I have another one at home. Metal can keep it! Also, this might come in handy for erasing.” Cream pulled a small cloth out of the front pocket of her bag and reached over the table to hand it to the robot.

He moved to grab it from her hand but stopped. He noticed how his sharp fingers had damaged the tablet. What if he scratched her, too? Metal outstretched his palm for her to drop it in instead.

Outside, the day had grown dim. It was still early, but the snowfall intensified over the last hour to create a dense veil that darkened the house. Visibility was low. It was a minor snowstorm, but Amy still worried about Cream’s return home.

“Hey Cream, why don’t you stay a while until the snow lightens up?” she suggested.

Cream peered through Amy’s sliding glass door off the side of the living room. “Oh! I didn’t realize it was so snowy out…”

“Why don’t we put on a movie to pass some time?”

“Hmm…” Cream pondered. She wasn’t really in the mood to watch anything. “I have a better idea! Let’s play dress up- like old times!”

Amy groaned. “Don’t you think we’re a little old for that?” It had been at least 3 years since they raided Amy’s closet for an impromptu fashion show. The girls had spent many a rainy day during Cream’s childhood arranging outfits.

“Metal’s never played,” Cream reasoned.

Amy scoffed playfully. “I really don’t think my clothes will suit him.”

Cream pouted in response. Her pleading eyes glistened in the dim light, growing ever wider. Her fist pressed to her round cheek as she made direct eye contact with Amy.

Amy rolled her eyes. “I taught you that trick.”

Cream abandoned her pitiful façade just as quickly, clicking her tongue.

“But, I guess there’s not much else to do,” Amy finished.

A look of glee filled the young rabbit’s eyes. She shot up from the table and twirled its perimeter to stop next to Metal. “Come on, let’s find you something to wear!” She tugged on his arm which failed to budge.

Surprised at the sudden contact, Metal turned his gaze to Cream’s delicate hands around his arm. After a moment, he managed to prop himself up without it, still struggling to balance as she attempted to pull him toward the bedroom.

“Be gentle, Cream. His foot is messed up.”

“Oh, right! Sorry, I’ll go at your pace,” the girl beamed at him. She dragged him slowly across the living room into Amy’s room, detailing what color scarf she thought would suit him, and adding that maybe a hat would look good, too.

Amy chuckled to herself as she took in the unusual sight of a young girl attempting to lug a clunky robot into a makeshift fashion show. She cleared some eraser shavings from the table and soon followed.

 It was as if a tornado had blown through Amy’s closet with the express purpose of littering as many clothes around the room as possible. Amy sighed thinking about how she had two messes to clean up now. Her and Metal Sonic watched from the bed; he sat at the edge while Amy crossed her legs and hugged a large pillow in front of her chest. Cream had tried on just about every dress, every blouse, and each pair of shoes that Amy owned. She’d also managed to amass a pile of silk scarves around Metal Sonic’s neck, insisting that layering was all the rage. Cream completed his ensemble by placing a wide-brimmed straw boater atop his head. He looked a bit like a hat rack.

Amy turned to address Metal. “So, how you holding up?”

Metal didn’t look at her but let out a melodic grunt. Amy wasn’t sure what it meant but his stoic gaze surrounded by dainty accessories made her laugh.

“Amy, do you remember this?” Cream excitedly held up two intertwined clothes hangers housing a long pink tank top and a matching pair of flared joggers.

“Oh, wow- that old thing. I wasn’t sure I still had it.”

“I don’t fit into mine anymore,” Cream complained.

“Try this one on then.”                                    

Cream slipped back into the closet to change and Amy took it as an opportunity to get a head start on picking up. It had stopped snowing and there was only maybe an hour of sunlight left- it was time Cream got back home.

When she emerged wearing the athletic set, Cream spun around and posed. “What do you think?”

“The pants are still a little long, but it looks great on you. Why don’t you keep it?”

The girl’s eyes twinkled. “Really? You’d let me have it?”

Amy shrugged. “It doesn’t fit me anymore anyway.” Five years had passed since she last wore the set and Amy had grown a couple of inches taller in that time. It was enough that the pants now sat atop her ankles awkwardly. “Now get changed to your clothes, you should get home before dark.”

Cream thanked her profusely and disappeared back into the wardrobe for the last time. Amy hung as much as she could on the clothes hangers that were strewn about and laid it all on the edge of the bed.

“Do you mind?” She motioned to the hat on Metal’s head. He looked up momentarily and gently lifted it from around his ears to hand to her. “Let me help you with these.” Amy unraveled each of the silky scarves from around him, being careful not to snag the fabric on his pointed shoulders. It was in vein, however, as one of the corners of a gauzy red handkerchief caught around his left side where the tear from his missing arm was jagged. “Oh, shoot…” Amy lamented softly. Metal realized this and hung his head timidly.

When Cream came out, she held up yet another hanger. “Hey Amy, what’s this?”

A bomber-style jacket hung from the plastic frame. It was made of supple black and white satin and adorned with an embroidered rose emblem over the heart.

“Oh…” Amy turned and examined it. “I thought this would made me look tough, but I could never fill it out right,” she giggled. “I just never really wore it.”

“That’s a shame, it’s so nice.” Cream gazed at the jacket, admiring the floral patch. Then she looked up and caught sight of Metal Sonic, who was still sitting quietly on the bed. “Hey, I bet it would look nice on Metal,” she smiled.

“Oh, Cream, don’t bother him with that…”

She approached Metal anyway, holding up the piece. “Would you like to try it on?”

Metal Sonic took a closer look at the soft jacket. It was padded lightly around the shoulders. He stood up then, holding his hand out to her.

Cream gasped with joy, running around the back of the lanky robot. “Hold your arm back, actually!” She had to stand on the bed to slide it over him completely. “What do you think?”

Metal limped toward the full-length mirror that stood next to the wardrobe. He’d momentarily caught sight of himself in it earlier, but this was the first time he really examined his body. He observed his pointy nose and ears. His long, sharp limbs. The noticeable scratch in the paint at the top of his head and the exposed wires that dragged under his right leg. He was frightening. More than that- he was dangerous. Metal had taken the jacket in the hopes it would obscure some of his edges. The left side of it laid limply past the shoulder, but the jacket fit him otherwise and served to soften his appearance. The girls crowded around him suddenly, singing praises.

“It fits you perfectly, Metal.” remarked Amy.

“You look so cute!” Cream giggled.

Amy reached over to zip the jacket most of the way up for him and smoothed it over his shoulders. “I think you should keep it- if you want to that is.”

They both looked up at him expectantly. The unanticipated praise had moved Metal. A sense of nervous joy overcame him and although his expression couldn’t change, he fixed his gaze on the three of them in the mirror and nodded with unquestionable excitement. Metal then placed a palm gingerly atop Cream’s head as she giggled and cheered.

Amy packed up the muffins she’d promised Cream to take home and walked her to the door. Metal joined Amy in seeing her out, imitating the girl as she waved back at the pair. Once Cream was out of sight, Amy closed the door gently so as not to worsen the crack in the wood. Metal was reminded of his strength then, undertaking that he would continue to act tenderly as long as he was going to be under the care of the kind pink girl and her companions.

Ch. 4 (next) 

[plotting-against-you]

Can We Keep Him?

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy

Characters: Diego Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves, Vanya Hargreeves, Grace Hargreeves, Allison Hargreeves, Luther Hargreeves, Five Hargreeves

Prompt: Anon gave me the prompt about them finding a dog.

Warnings: slight mention of homophobic violence, but nothing graphic and if you blink you’ll miss it.

The house was unusually quiet for a Friday night, though Diego figured it was because of the storm going on outside. The sound of the drops hitting the windows created a relaxed environment that soothed the ache in their souls as they recovered from their time-traveling adventures.

As he sat on his bed, he briefly wondered where his siblings were.

He’d seen Allison and Luther head up to the attic, as it was the best spot to talk and reconnect. Though everyone was unsure about whatever they were to each other (including themselves, it seemed), they all knew the two needed time to talk.

Five was in the library, trying to catch up on the things he’d missed while he was gone. He knew that if he was going to be integrating himself back into the 2019 society, he would need to pull it off. Diego had also caught him scribbling equations more than once in passing and had an inkling he was trying to upgrade his body from the teenage one he currently had to that of a thirty-year-old to match his siblings.

Vanya, though having gained a new confidence from her time without memories, had quickly suffered from the trauma of getting those memories back and had locked herself in her room not long after their return. Every one of them had tried and failed to coax her out, letting her know that none of it was her fault and that they all had things they needed to fix, but so far nothing had worked. It was a shared notion that they were all worried about her.

However, she wasn’t the only one they worried about.

Though he hadn’t spoken much about what happened during his three years in the ‘60s, everyone could feel the grief jumping off of him. Allison had also mentioned his break from sobriety, having heard it from Ben, and it made Diego wonder what could have hurt him so severely that he would break after that long.

Just as the thought crossed his mind, a loud bang was heard from downstairs, making him jump and instinctively grab a knife. “Guys help!”

He quickly made his way to the first floor, running into Five, Allison, and Luther as he went. As they rushed down the stairs, they could see that Klaus was covered in a long feminine trench coat, and his body was hunched inside of it. They could hear him murmuring something quietly, but couldn’t make out what it was from where they were.

“Klaus!” Diego was two steps ahead of his siblings. “What happened?”

Looking up at them, Klaus’ eyes were wild with tears, and he could see bruises forming on his brother’s skin. “He’s hurt, Diego!”

Running to him, Diego stopped with a halt as his vision finally saw what Klaus was talking about. “What the hell is that?”

Smacking him, Five crouched to the floor, running his hand over the soft fur. “Don’t tell me you’ve never seen a dog before?”

Rolling his eyes, Diego looked down on them. “What I meant was what is it doing in the house?”

“He’s hurt!” Klaus shouted again, visibly shaken.

“Who’s hurt?”

Turning, they all watched as Grace hurried into the room and straight for her son. Before turning back to the situation, Diego noted Vanya standing quietly on the balcony, watching them.

“You can help him, right?” Klaus asked his mom.

Kneeling to the ground beside her kids, Grace smiled warmly at him. “I’ll need to see him first, darling.”

Nodding quickly, Klaus opened his coat a bit more, revealing a small, trembling husky puppy. He was whimpering, and they could see the small patch of blood on his side.

“Oh, such a sweet thing.” Grace cooed and let the puppy sniff her hand before nuzzling his face against her. “We’ll get you fixed right up. Klaus, honey, why don’t you bring him to the infirmary and let me take a look?”

Their brother was on his feet as soon as the words were out of her mouth. Sharing a look with the others, Diego followed them. He waited until Klaus laid the puppy on the table before questioning him.

“Klaus, what happened?”

“I was on my way home.” The taller man told them. “I was almost home when these guys came out of nowhere and jumped me.”

“What?”

Diego hadn’t known his siblings followed him, but he wasn’t surprised.

“They said some things, got in a few hits,” Klaus mumbled. “I got in a few too, before this little guy showed up. Jumped in front of me and growled, the precious thing.

“The guys just laughed, and one of them tried to walk over him, but he jumped up and bit his ankle.” He sounded proud as he looked down at the puppy, who laid obediently as Grace cleaned and stitched his wound. “One of the other guys kicked him away, and he got a gash in his side.”

“What happened to the guys?” Luther asked quickly, and Diego appreciated the speed in which their brother was ready to defend him.

“Oh, I was finally able to manifest a few ghosts.” Klaus shrugged. “They got scared and ran after that.”

Allison moved over to pet the husky’s head, and the dog licked her hand in return. “Our little hero.”

“I couldn’t leave him out there!” Klaus said suddenly, his voice becoming high-pitched and panicked.

Putting his hand on Klaus’ shoulder, Diego nodded. “It’s okay, bro.”

“There we go.” Grace smiled as she put away her tools. “Good as new.”

The puppy instantly looked around the room and relaxed once he laid his eyes on Klaus. Leaning over his new friend, Klaus put his head against the dog’s head and spoke quietly again. Then he rose again and looked at them, speaking the words that they were all dreading.

“Can we keep him?”

…

Diego stood in the doorway of his brother’s room, watching as he slept peacefully. The dog, who Klaus had dubbed Balto (“It’s my favorite kid’s movie, Diego!” “I’m not calling him that.”), was curled up next to him with his head on Klaus’ stomach. Both slept soundly, as if protecting each other from the world.

Shaking his head, Diego sighed and walked back to his own room. After Klaus had taken Balto back to his room, the four remaining siblings worried amongst themselves about his attachment to the dog. They were all firmly against keeping it, so Allison had suggested checking with local shelters the following day to see if anyone was missing their pet.

Diego could only hope they would reunite another family with their dog, or they’d have a really tough time talking their brother out of his idea.

…

The world hated them, Diego knew. They’d spent all morning calling shelters and veterinary offices in hopes of finding the dog’s home, but they hadn’t had any luck. One woman working at a shelter had recognized his description, noting him as a frequent flyer in their establishment before being adopted—then it would happen all over again.

Though the thought made all of them sad—who adopts a pet just to abandon them—they knew they couldn’t keep him. Puppies were expensive and required lots of training, not to mention the fact that none of them were stable enough to handle taking care of a dog. Most of them couldn’t take care of themselves.

Now they just had to convince Klaus of that.

Whispering quietly to themselves, they walked up the stairs to Klaus’ room, ready to explain why they couldn’t keep the puppy, but when they arrived, they weren’t there. Confused, they looked at each other before hearing happy barks (at least they sounded happy to Diego) coming from down the hall. When they arrived near the sound, they froze at the sight in front of them.

The door to Vanya’s room was open, and both she and Klaus sat on the floor, Balto between them. He was licking their hands excitedly and jumping around playfully, landing partially in their laps as he went.

It was the first time they’d been able to coax her out, and it was because of the damn dog.

“Oh, hi, guys!” Klaus smiled and waved at them.

Looking up, Vanya gave them a small smile, though they could all feel the anxiety rolling off of her. Sensing it at the same time they did, Balto jumped fully into her lap and began to lick her face. When he licked her nose, she let out an involuntary laugh and hugged him gently.

It was the happiest they’d seen her in years.

“What are you guys up to?” Klaus asked, a glint of fear flashing through his eyes.

Diego shook his head and sat on the floor next to him. “I just…Klaus, we…”

Balto jumped into his lap, and Diego thought it looked like he was smiling at him. He looked up and saw Klaus and Vanya staring at him, hope in their eyes, and sighed.

“I’m not picking up any dog shit, you understand?” He told them. “And if he pees on my bed, I’m coming after you.”

Klaus clapped happily, and Vanya smiled, the first genuinely positive thing she’d done since they’d been home. Diego didn’t think he’d seen either one of them so relaxed and genuine in their entire lives.

As if he understood what Diego had said, Balto rested his front paws on the man’s chest and licked his cheek. Turning to look at the others who stood behind him, the man in black shrugged.

“Welcome to the family, Balto.”

He was never going to hear the end of this.

[zoe-oneesama]

non scarlet lady question, how would you had written kagami and luka entering the show? What would you have them interact with the plot or how would they affect stuff?

This is gonna be long because I have a lot to say on both sides of this, so strap in.

Kagami:

Kagami’s intro episode was perfect (for HER) - she came in quick, every bit of screen time was dedicated to establishing her character, relationship with her mother, values, and personality. With one episode we knew who Kagami was: competitive, confident (almost cocky), an extreme fear/rejection of failing, perceptive. And a softeness was established with the way she was still willing to listen to Adrien at the end of the episode, completing her mini-arc about dealing with losing in the episode. 

On the romance side, while it was interesting (and I submit even necessary) to establish that Adrien is capable of looking at other girls through a romantic lens (or at least through a “Wow she’s pretty” lens), it ended up hurting the love square because while Kagami was able to capture Adrien’s attention immediately, nothing has made Adrien look at Marinette romantically no matter how subtle or not subtle she’s been. So for it’s intended purpose of bringing in a rival for the love square, Kagami’s episode failed. I mean, c’mon, does Marinette really need more opposition for Adrien?

My fix for this is that Adrien does react the same to Kagami - wow she’s pretty - but it makes him confront whether it’s okay to feel that way about other people when he loves Ladybug. He’d come to the conclusion that there’s no harm in looking at other people because he’s not in a relationship with Ladybug, so he looks at girls close to him differently. And I mean all of them, not just Marinette. He can still look at Kagami that way - she is on his fencing team and all - but it also makes him look at other girls like Chloe and Lila that are coming onto him strong and recognizing that fact (I mean tell me you didn’t groan in Onichan when Adrien insisted that none of these girls were into him) AND IT MAKES HIM LOOK AT MARINETTE. If we’re supposed to be invested in this couple, something has to give on all sides of the square.

Otherwise, the big fix for Kagami is just being consistent. She has 3 personalities and only one of them is any good. Obviously because Riposte was such a good episode for her character, that’s the personality I’d go with, especially because it’s the only one that at least justifies giving Marinette aNOTHER rival that’s interested in Adrien - because Riposte Kagami is NOT a bad person. So far the only real rivals Marinette has had are shrews that are only interested in Adrien as a trophy boyfriend. If Kagami is going to be into Adrien (and not say, Chat Noir) she needs to bring something new to the table by making Marinette confront a rival that she can’t convince herself that Adrien deserves better. They tried to do this, which is obvious because even when Marinette is “bad mouthing” Kagami she’s going on about how cool and amazing she is, but I know I wouldn’t be rooting for Adrien to end up with the Kagami in Animaestro that rubs being Adrien’s date in other people’s faces or the Kagami in Onichan who goes into a blind rage over a picture of a random girl kissing Adrien on the cheek. They need Kagami to be a good option and to be consistently a good option.

The alternative fix is to keep Kagami on her weird up and down hyperfixated/possessive personality but have her interested in Chat Noir. I’ve discussed before how this is the whole point of having rivals - to challenge the existing status quo and make a character rethink their feelings. By having someone interested in Chat - and potentially date Chat - Ladybug has to deal with whether she’s okay with that or not (and if the writers were worth their salary the answer would be “not”). However I’m not super into this fix because even without rivals, Ladybug has already had to rethink her feelings for Chat. It just seems…superfluous at this point. Maybe back when Kagami was being introduced, but now? Meh.

Luka:

Oh Luka, your episode was so low impact and all because you’re entirely entwined in Marinette and the writers just don’t give a fuck about her, and by extension, you. His intro episode was bogged down by Agreste Angst which he could never hope to compete with. It’s really telling that the introduction to Luka wasn’t his own akuma and wasn’t even devoted to him and his character like Kagami’s was. The writers are so married to the idea that nothing will ever shake Marinette’s love for Adrien that they approach people having crushes on her with absolutely zero ceremony. I guess it was too much to hope that because this one was going to stick around that they might care about him.

What did this episode do for setting up Luka’s character? A lot of things are vague or lack depth. Luka meditates. Why? Does he have sensory issues? Is it a warm up before performing? Does he have problems dealing with emotional outbursts? Does he just think it’s cool? Luka is into guitar and Jagged Stone. Does he want to pursue that professionally? Is it for fun? Why is his band made up of his sister’s friends and not his own? Does that make it Juleka’s pet project and not his? There’s just so many questions where there weren’t any with Kagami. 

That’s not entirely bad - they could flesh out these things in later episodes. Except this is Marinette’s love interest so he doesn’t get other episodes. Aside from his akuma episode, he’s nearly background dressing when he’s granted the honor of showing up and he’s nearly always doing what he’s always doing - playing guitar and doling out advice. When Luka’s onscreen it’s almost always for someone else. And it was only until very recently that that someone else wasn’t Marinette.

So how to fix Luka’s intro episode. I’d like it to be focused on Luka, and even to an extent Juleka, and their relationship with their mom. To do this we need to establish in earlier episodes about the chaotic nature of Juleka’s homelife, some offhand remarks about their boat being so messy or Rose asking where Juleka’s house is parked this week. Start setting up that Juleka’s home is unconventional and a bit insane and also start setting up how Juleka feels about it (does she think it’s rad as hell or does she yearn for some normalcy). This helps us not have to devote time to setting up Juleka’s House AND Juleka’s Mom AND Juleka’s Brother in the same episode and instead we can focus on the dyamic between the three Couffaines. 

This is where we have Juleka and Luka’s relationship established, and Juleka and Anarka’s relationship, and Luka and Anarka’s relationship. Maybe have a big three way fight - maybe Juleka’s trying to show off the cool side of her weird living situation but Anarka’s not putting on the best of impressions by being extra messy and arguing with police and maybe Luka pipes in that this is why he’s too embarrassed to bring his own friends over and Juleka is stuck between trying to defend her mom but she’s also pretty embarrassed by her mom in this moment at least and Anarka’s extreme personality can’t take insubordination so she goes off to sulk (and gets akumatized).

Then between the fight and everyone storming off, Marinette is the one trying to mediate and by virtue of being kind AND a third party is the only one the siblings are willing to be fully open with - Juleka admits that she does think her mom is super cool and her house is super cool but she sometimes can’t help but wish things were toned down so that she felt more secure (and that her mom might not go to jail at any minute). Luke admits his mom doesn’t really embarrass him but it’s tiring when people talk badly about his family and he wishes she could be more responsible to set a better example for Juleka.

And obviously save a little MORE time for Luka’s side of things since we haven’t had seasons worth of him dropping hints about his home life, and ALSO for the romance part. Marinette’s patience warms Luka up to him, because “if I had more friends willing to listen, like you, I don’t think I’d worry what people thought so much”. Or something. Luka being vulnerable with Marinette is what attracts her to him and her willingness to listen and not judge him is what attracts him to her. 

The akuma can go pretty much the same, with Marinette impressing Luka with her Ladybug-ness peaking through. Just include some more concern between the siblings - even when they fight they still love each other. At the resolution, we have the Couffaines coming together, apologizing for letting their emotions cloud their real feelings and being honest with each other. “Mom, I love living on a boat and going where ever we want, but maybe when my friends are over could you try NOT getting arrested?” “Aye aye, I see yer point, I suppose it wouldn’t be a total breach of liberty to at least hear authority out.”

Good…start Anarka?

BUT MOST IMPORTANTLY when Adrien does show up, Luka is being sweet on Marinette, to the point where she nearly doesn’t notice his arrival. Adrien takes note of the lack of attention from Marinette and is bothered by it, even though he doesn’t know why or automatically equate it to her talking to another guy. 

THE WHOLE POINT of rivals is to change up the status quo. Adrien needs to be effected by Luka, he needs to feel like he’s losing out on something or needs to see Marinette as a romantic potential, if only by virtue of someone else taking notice in her and KEEPING notice in her I’m totally not bitter about how many guys who crush on Marinette just stop after one episode. 

Thanks for reading my essay, those are my fixes. Kagami needs to narrow down on which personality she wants, Adrien needs to wake the fuck up and see Marinette as a potential date, Luka needs attention from the writers. And I need a strong drink because it’ll probably be the Series Finale before any one of these things come to pass.

[lady-literature]

what a lion cannot manage chp 3

Ao3 | chp 1 | chp 2 | chp 3 | chp 4

Her first thought—after screaming, of course—is that she needs to go tell Kacchan right now. She just found out something big and insane and Kacchan would want to know too.

She curbs that desire before it can go anywhere.

This is huge, yes, and she doesn't want to keep this from Kacchan but it’s also not her secret to tell. All Might- Yagi hadn’t wanted her to know. Otherwise, he would have told her.

But he didn’t. She figured it out accidentally instead.

Ugh.

How is one supposed to deal with figuring out their idol’s secret identity? How is someone supposed to deal with having known their idol for months without actually knowing and she just… Izumi has so many emotions about this.

All his nervousness whenever she brought up All Might makes so much sense now and, oh kami. She’s gushed about him to his face. Just have Kacchan explodo-kill her now. It’ll be a mercy.

How is she supposed to face Yagi now? What is she going to tell him?

She keens, low and long and distressed, in the silence of her room.

It probably says a lot about her general existence that it’s that and not the scream that brings Aoi crashing through her door with a worried expression.

***

The next three days pass in a daze for Izumi.

It’s only by the grace of everyone thinking she’s just upset over Yagi-san that she gets through it. Which, she means, they aren’t technically wrong. But not for the reasons they think.

She misses him like an ache in her chest but it’s her mind that’s the problem.

Aligning the image of the Great Savior All Might, their Symbol of Peace and model by which all great Heroes strive to follow, with her dorky, awkward Yagi who spends his free time telling corny jokes is just… disorienting. It makes both too much and absolutely zero sense.

How can one person be so different and yet so similar at the same time?

She can tell she’s starting to get on Kacchan’s nerves with all her fidgeting and not-quite muttering. He’s taken to knocking her on the head when she spirals too far or when he needs her attention. Sometimes, she can even catch him frowning at her out of the corner of her eye.

It’s the same look he uses when unraveling complicated chemical equations.

She wishes she could just tell him, could share her worries and fears and concerns but she can’t. Instead, she smiles and begs him to take her to the bakery on main street until he gets irritated enough to stop trying to figure out why she’s upset.

***

Her and Yagi talk near every day. Even if it’s only a few texts with hours between responses.

It had taken him two days in the beginning to call her. Days she now knows were probably busily filled with whatever All Might business he’d been pushing off to be here, but at the time she thought he’d been avoiding her. She’d been scared to reach out, hesitant to make the leap as doubts filled her mind.

But after, it was as if the floodgates opened. Calls and texts and video chats were exchanged as often as possible, the pair reaching out with the same vigour they had when they were right next to one another. 

He’s slow to answer texts sometimes, and video chats are often hastily rescheduled with little notice but Izumi understands. He’s busy. He’s All Might, after all. She can’t fault him for saving people.

What kind of Hero would that make her if she did?

***

For all the talking they do, Izumi never actually brings up him being All Might.

It’s not like she’s trying to hide it, but it just… never seems like the right time. It’s not a conversation to have on the phone, she thinks. 

And it’s not like she’s going to tell anyone, so it’s probably fine, right? She’s just waiting until she sees him in person again, until his next visit. It’s a delicate situation that requires a certain level of finesse that you can’t get over the phone, is all.

Not because Izumi is terrified that she’d accidentally betrayed his trust too much to come back from and he’ll never speak to her again if he finds out so she’s trying to prolong her time with him for as long as possible.

Certainly not that.

***

Izumi opens the door right as Katsuki raises his fist to pound on the wood with all the aggression to be found in his boyish body. His fist halts mid-air, almost punching her in the eye.

He scowls at her. “I hate when you do that.”

She grins at the stutter in his heartbeat they both know she can hear. They both know he thinks it’s cool though he’s never said it.

“Did you need something, Kacchan?” she asks instead of pointing that out. He only gets grumpier when she acknowledges those kinds of things.

“What kind of stupid question is that? We’re going to the park, idiot. Or did you forget?”

Izumi thinks back over the last couple days. Katsuki never asked her to go to the park.

She decides not to point that out either.

“Let me grab my notebook.”

“Whatever. Just hurry the fuck up!”

“Language!” someone calls from inside the house. Katsuki automatically flips them off despite not being able to see them or vice versa. She finishes pulling on her shoes and pushes him off down the street before he can get into another screaming match with Uncle Kyo.

“We’re going to the park!” she yells into the house, raising her voice for the benefit of the humans’.

“Have fun, sweetheart!” her mom says from the upstairs along with a chorus of other well wishes from everyone else.

***

Izumi will be the first to admit she has a bit of a skewed metric for what most people consider ‘normal.’ Katsuki’s not that far behind her, she thinks, but Kami forbid she tell him that.

Exhibit A: most kids come to the park to play in the jungle gym or build sandcastles. Izumi and Katsuki… do not do that.

“Kacchan, you’re putting too much strain on your joints!” Izumi calls from where she’s perched along the bar on top of the swingsets, balanced in a way one can only achieve with a tail for a counterweight. “Try bending your elbow more!”

“Don’t tell me what to do, damn nerd!” he shouts, vaulting over the balance beam. “I don’t need your fucking help!”

His heartbeat doesn’t stutter—both because it’s going to fast for it to and what he said isn’t really a lie anyway.

His arms still loosen up, because he knows she’s right and her advice has never been about him needing it.

The new angle should lessen the stress on his elbows but it’s going to make him sore quicker. Izumi makes a note about looking up exercises to help strengthen the muscles in his arms and shoulders in the corner of the page.

For the last month or so, Katsuki’s been all but brimming with excess energy. He’s barely able to sit still in the classroom anymore and seems angrier than ever. He’s even been suspended from the wrestling team for one too many displays of aggression. He still does kickboxing every other day but it’s not quite cutting it.

Izumi’s taken to pulling him out to the track at lunchtime to let him run out whatever energy he can but it’s not enough. The first few hours after school and weekend mornings have become dominated by Katsuki dragging her into the forest to jog up the hiking trails or to the park for her to set up increasingly difficult obstacle courses for him.

Like today.

He’ll keep going until he’s dead on his feet, she knows, refusing to stop until he hits a wall of exhaustion and she has to half-drag, half-carry him back home.

It’s really starting to worry her, watching him work himself into the ground for no discernable reason. But he won’t talk to her about it.

She’s not sure if he’s embarrassed or prideful or some other self-important reason he’s come up with, but it all comes out to the same thing: Izumi floundering around to help treat the symptoms of the sickness Katsuki won’t talk about.

She can’t even yell at him about keeping secrets from her because all that would do is piss him off and make her a hypocrite.

They both know Izumi keeps things from him, has secrets she can’t and won’t share with him (secrets that burn at the base of her throat, that keep building in number despite her best efforts).

One day they’re going to fight about that. It’s all she can do to push it off until tomorrow.

***

Izumi gets good at reading between the lines during her time talking with Yagi.

She’d already been good, in an unpolished fox-born-affinity kind of way. But having to parse through Yagi’s heavily edited daily schedules makes her better.

He’s good at lying without lying. Dancing around issues and straight-up avoiding others. She can see how he’s kept his identity a secret for so long.

It means Izumi has to be sneaky about her questioning. Has to do more than just not be obviously worried after she’d watched some two-bit villain throw him through a wall and oh kami, what about his side? Why isn’t he in the hospital?

She watches All Might fights with something rapidly approaching anxiety these days. Flinches at hits more than she cheers for his wins.

Kacchan notices because he’s far more observant than most people give him credit for.

He’s agitated by it as far as she can tell. Takes an almost personal offence to her worry over the number one hero, which is more than a little confusing for her.

Sure, he’s still a bit touchy about the whole ‘letting people help and worry about him’ thing but Izumi’s never seen him apply that hang-up to another person. Much less All Might.

Every time she wrings her hands at a TV screen or bites her lip while reading an article, Kacchan’s face twists like he swallowed a lemon. She wants to ask about it but is half-convinced it might be related to that other issue he won’t talk to her about, so she doesn’t. For now, at least.

Her temporary solution of waiting until Kacchan calms down just enough that she can tackle-hug him without being immediately thrown off is working well enough anyway.

***

Izumi remembers the first time she told Katsuki she wanted to be a hero, back when he was still all sharp edges and blistering palms. When it seemed like he’d never settle into his skin or breathe without the weight of all the expectations he’d placed on himself.

Before, even, the time she crawled back down a tree to meet the angry words of “why do you do that?”

He’d told her he was going to be a better hero than All Might and Izumi had brightened like he’d hung the stars. Her mouth was halfway around a rambling tirade about saving the day and helping people when he’d laughed. Harsh and cruel.

It stopped Izumi in her tracks.

“How are you gonna be a hero?” he taunts, nose raised in superiority. “All you can do is hear and smell stuff from far away! How are you supposed to fight anyone with a quirk like that?”

This isn’t the first time someone has said this to Izumi, and she doubts it will be the last. That’s the nature of the secret she keeps.

There is indignation in her chest. It is not new.

The anger though? That’s new. She’s never been truly angry at the townspeople before.

It hadn’t been so personal before. It doesn’t matter that she’d only known this boy for a few short weeks, he was hers. The winds whispered it to her, the pounding of the earth demanded it.

The townspeople are kind and friendly and hers in the detached way all innocents are hers, but Katsuki is different—is supposed to be different. Izumi does not know how many Protectors walk the earth, but Katsuki is the first she’d found and that means something whether either of them know it or not.

Her mouth twists into a frown. “Quirks aren’t everything.”

And they aren’t. She knows that, has known it since she sent Daiki to the nurse’s office in third grade.

Izumi has her teeth and her claws, has her mind and a viciousness born of the chaos at her center. She has magic, something so few people know how to wield these days.

And past that? Her Nona remembers the time before quirks, remembers their birth and the riots it started. The hatred. Izumi’s grown on stories and tales of the time before quirks. Of the great feats humanity made with nothing but their hands and minds.

It’s not quirks that make humans special. It never was.

Katsuki, arrogant and prideful and still so young, doesn't agree. Doesn’t understand.

“They hell they’re not!” he laughs and it’s a mocking sort of sound that makes tears prick at her eyes. “You only say that because yours is weak.”

“No!” she shouts. Her voice cracks and her breath heaves from her lungs like she can’t get enough air but she shouts anyway. “I’m not weak. I’m not less than you! You’re just being a bully and mean and that’s not how a hero acts!”

Katsuki pushes her to the ground and she’s sobbing now because the wind whispers to her and she knows, she knows, deep in her chest, that this is important. That there’s a crossroads here and it will change everything if she picks wrong.

“All Might wins and smiles and is kind and you’ll never be like him if you act like a bully!” she yells through her tears. Glares at him from her spot on the ground, through her tears and pain and hope and she thinks no. Not this time. Not him. Not here.

Izumi plants her hands on the ground, her knees dirty and face red, and she stands back up as tall as she can, chin tilted in defiance. She’s a whole head shorter than him and looks a sorry sight with all her tears but she stands before her friend, the boy that Fate Herself decreed would walk at her side until the very end, and she glares.

Greek fire against boiling pools of blood and she doesn’t bother to flinch. She won’t bend for this.

She will bend and bend until she breaks for so many things but not for this. For this, she will be stone or she will shatter.

“You’re not supposed to be mean,” she says firmly, honestly. “If you keep looking down on everyone, you’re only going to be sad and angry and alone. If you can’t see that, you’re not gonna get better and you won’t grow.”

He looks like she slapped him. Stricken and utterly still and furious but she doesn't care.

She’s not weak. Power is an old friend of hers and the world will shake beneath her feet. Izumi will grow up and she will be mighty.

Not even her precious Kacchan can tell her she can’t.

***

It was that moment, she thinks, that truly changed his path. Her inability to let him ruin himself for the sake of his pride.

If she was kinder, less selfish perhaps, she might have let him grow into it himself. Let him make mistakes and learn from them and lean on others for those life lessons.

But she is not and she didn’t. Instead, she shoved him into lessons he was not meant to learn yet for years to come. Instead, she robbed him of his growth and cheapened it because she could not live with him hating her. Because she couldn’t bear to live in a world where he thought her small.

She only hopes that when he realizes what she did, he doesn’t hate her for it.

***

Katsuki knows there’s something strange about his best friend. He’d have to be blind, deaf and fucking moronic to not have noticed.

But, well. Weird shit happens all the time in this town. People do weird shit all the time in this town.

Spirit traps hang from every eve. The crows are smarter here than anywhere else. No one walks through the crossroads at the center of town. People carry salt in their pockets and iron jewellery on their wrists. Half the deaths in town are unexplained.

Something’s weird with his best friend, but then, he thinks, something’s weird with everyone.

He gets used to what he can and pointedly ignores the rest. It’s whatever. It’s not like it really affects him .

Until it does.

***

Katsuki starts seeing things from the corners of his eyes.

Shadows that move and pockets of air that shimmer like hot asphalt. Things that aren’t really there and faces that terrify him even when he can’t remember why. Voices just at the edge of his hearing and feelings he can’t explain.

 A bunch of weird things that don’t mean anything and definitely don’t make him jumpy or paranoid.

So what if he starts keeping a dreamcatcher above his bed or good luck charms in his pockets? Or if he starts flicking his bedroom light on and off three times before actually turning it off at night?

That no one’s business but his own. It doesn’t matter that he doesn’t really know why he does it. He doesn't need to explain himself to anyone.

It’s nothing.

At least, until he has to stop looking at Izu head-on because when he does, he gets so dizzy he wants to vomit. Or when there’s suddenly three times as many people in town with familiar green hair that make his vision swim just to look at, and weird, overly large foxes running at the edge of the forest.

***

There’s a door in his house that wasn’t there that morning.

It’s in one of the basement hallways, tucked away in a corner and when Katsuki stares at it, it gives him the same ‘headache behind the eyes’ feeling as all the new broccoli-tops running around town.

A normal person would be unnerved and confused by all the fuckery going on. This has horror movie written all over it, with Katsuki starring front and center to get demonically possessed.

Katsuki glares at the door before barging his way through it without fanfare.

Being unnerved is for losers who never get shit done and any two-bit demon that thinks they can control him will be in for one hell of a surprise. Namely, his fist up whatever the equivalent of their ass is.

***

The door opens up into a stairway that leads to a secret second basement containing a library filled with books and the weirdest shit Katsuki has ever seen in his life.

He plucks a book from the shelf at random, opens to a page in the middle and skims over the overly fancy handwriting.

His blood freezes at what he reads.

***

At eleven years old, Katsuki is filled to bursting with energy and jittering nerves like something in his gut was building and building and building and-

There are things hidden in shadows and the darkness, things with teeth and too many eyes and rules he doesn’t understand but should because they’re all so familiar, why does he-?

There’s a library under his house filled with things that shouldn’t exist and knowledge that belongs in folktales and fantasy books but Katsuki knows it’s true because something in his mind has clicked into place like it was always meant to and suddenly he can see-

He sits at a table surrounded by books and Katsuki reads and learns and his thoughts spin faster and faster and confusion fades to a muted sort of horror and understanding. He feels bile rise in his throat because, oh kami, he didn’t- this wasn’t- he doesn't want to know-

At eleven years old, Katsuki learns about the supernatural and yōkai and all that hides behind the veil and he grows sick because he’s not stupid. He can see now and the books before him are filled with insane things but they’re all real. His best friend is yōkai, is a fox.

And Katsuki’s family has spent generations hunting them.

***

“I think Kacchan’s avoiding me.”

Yagi blinks at her through the screen. “Hello to you too, my dear.”

“Sorry, yes. Hi, Yagi! I miss you lots,” she babbles quickly before going back to the problem at hand. “Kacchan’s avoiding me and I don’t know why.”

Yagi hums thoughtfully even as his mouth twitches with amusement. “Are you sure that’s what he’s doing? Hiding doesn't sound like the Young Bakugou.”

“It’s not hiding,” she defends on instinct, then bites the end of her thumb. “But I don’t know what else it would be. He’s acting… acting a lot like he did when we were first friends. How he only interacted with me when he had to.”

“Now that definitely doesn’t sound like Young Bakugou,” Yagi half-heartedly teases, starting to look worried on behalf of Izumi. “Have you, perhaps, spoken to him about it?”

Izumi gives him a look like he’s just told her he thinks the sky is orange.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

“You don’t just spring emotional conversations on Kacchan, Yagi,” she says, looking almost scandalized. “He’ll get hives or something.”

Yagi, for his part, only covers his mouth with his hand instead of slamming his face into the desk or bursting into laughter at her misery. That’s what Aoi did when Izumi asked her for advice, the unhelpful jerk.

“If that’s so, then I’m sure you just need to give him time. He’ll come to you when he’s ready.”

It’s not the advice Izumi wanted to hear because she’d already figured that and she’s far from a patient person. But, she also knows he’s right.

“Yeah, maybe,” she sighs unhappily. Then, she plants her elbows on the table. “So how’s work going? Are your coworkers teasing you again?”

Yagi pulls a face like he’s trying to be long-suffering but it hits too close to amused and fond. “They always are, my girl. Always.”

***

If she didn’t know any better, she’d think Kacchan was just waiting for her to get anxious enough to blab to Yagi before he put her out of her misery. It’s a reliable way to gauge how big of a problem she thinks something is, seeing as she doesn’t like adding more things to Yagi’s already overflowing plate.

It was almost anti-climactic considering all the horrible things Izumi had been imagining. But, in her defense, it was her and Kacchan. Neither of them ever did anything by halves.

He corners her after school and pulls her down one of the hallways no one goes down. She’s so relieved that he’s actually looking at her and not pretending she doesn’t exist that she doesn’t even care when he crams her between him and the corner where the end of the lockers meet the wall, effectively boxing her in.

Her mouth is already halfway around a question, ready to start speaking at a thousand miles an hour without giving him a chance, but he beats her to it.

“I know.”

Her mouth snaps shut in her confusion. Her head tilts. “Know what?”

His eyes are boring into hers, the first time he’s looked her in the eye in… she doesn't even know. A month? It was before he started avoiding her entirely at least.

She watches as slowly, purposefully, his eyes flick to the top of her head.

She’s still confused. Is there something wrong with her hair? Her ears flick in impatience, waiting for him to just tell her-  

His eyes follow the movement.

Her ears stand straight up, panic coursing through her and his eyes follow that too. He can see.

He can see.

“You’re a fox,” he says and it’s not a question. “A Shual Nephesh, right?”

Behind her eyes, her mind spins and whirls like a hurricane. Moving so much faster than everyone around her, a mess of plans and paths and actions laid before her like a prophecy of her own choosing.

She stares into his eyes, into glittering pools of blood, and sees the nervousness hidden there behind the arrogance and bluster. She sees the wariness and the confusion. But no fear. No hatred.

Izumi takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly, and makes a decision.

“We need to talk to Nona.”

***

Everyone’s surprisingly calm about Katsuki being in the know.

Most of the adults give her an almost disappointedly exasperated look before she explains he has the Sight which is what gave them away. Which… rude. Sure, she’s been wanting to tell Kacchan for years but that doesn’t mean she would. Not when Nona gave a direct order.

She can get away with a lot but not even she would test such a boundary. Though, by the looks, she’s almost sure she could’ve. Interesting. A thought for later.

They almost get through it all without a major incident.

That is, until Kacchan opens his mouth and drops a bigger bomb than him being the first person in a hundred years to figure them out.

“There’s something else you should know.” He’s shuffling his feet next to her and if Izumi didn’t know any better she’d think he’s worried. But about what?

Her Nona raises her brow at him. “And that is?”

“My Mom’s maiden name was Takanashi.”

Oh.

Oh.

Yeah. That’ll do it.

***

They try to make her leave the room.

Izumi snorts and latches onto Kacchan's arm, staunchly refusing to let go. You don’t spend almost four years as Bakugou Kastuki’s best friend without picking up at least a few of his brattier habits. Such as his problem with doing things he doesn’t want to.

 Izumi knows what hunters are, knows to be wary of them the same way all yōkai are. She knows who the Takanashi Clan are too, knows they’re the reason her skulk is hidden away on their own land even if no one will tell her why or what they did.

Learning that Katsuki, her best friend, is a Takanashi? A descendant of the same people who cursed her skulk? Her born enemy?

Well. 

Izumi’s not quite as upset as she supposes she should be.

It’s just that, it’s still Kacchan isn’t it? The same boy they’ve all know for years? Nothing’s really changed. He can’t help the family he was born into and it’s not like he’s ever threatened them or was even likely to do so.

She doesn’t understand why everyone’s throwing a fit.

After a long five minutes of people yelling and being unnecessarily dramatic—distantly, Izumi wonders if this is how her classmates feel around her and Kacchan—she decides enough is enough.

She shares a look with Aoi, one of the few people not making a big deal out of this, along with her mother and Nana Naoki. Aoi understands what she needs without speaking.

A sharp whistle pierces the air. Loud and shrill enough to make even the humans wince in pain.

It’s quiet almost immediately, and Izumi grins even as the adults glare at them.

This is why Aoi is her favourite.

“Thank you,” she smiles, then turns back to Kacchan, patting his forearm. “You can keep talking now.”

***

Everyone’s staring at him.

Adults who are older than they look and far more powerful all have their attention on him.

Nona—Midoriya Asuka, the Matriarch—is standing before him, perfectly poised with all five of her tails fanned out behind her. She doesn’t look older than forty even though he knows she has to be more than two hundred. Her silver eyes bore into him and he’s almost positive she’s exactly what Izu will look like in however many years. Powerful aura and all.

He can taste ozone in the air and knows that it won’t matter that he’s known most of these people for years. It won’t matter that he and Izu are practically inseparable or that Inko is as much his mom as she is Izu’s and vice versa with his own parents.

One wrong move and he doesn’t think he’ll leave this room.

He can’t even say he’d blame them. He doesn’t know exactly what his family did to them, but he knows it wasn’t good. Knows it forced them into hiding. Them, Shaalim Nephashoth. These great, powerful beings who should be neatly sat at the top of the yōkai food chain, just under the Kami Themselves and Nephilim.

So, Katsuki does what he always does when faced with a challenge. Raises his chin and charges forward. Failure isn’t an option and Katsuki sneers at the very idea.

He needs them to trust him which means he needs to prove he can be trusted.

There’s a reason he spent so long holed up in that damned library, paging through books that made him queasy to look at. He had to get this right.

He locks eyes with the Midoriya Matriarch and speaks, clear and with as much authority as he, a boy still a few months from twelve years, can muster.

“I, Bakugou Katsuki, renounce my ties to the Takanashi Clan by witness of the earth, moon and stars. The grudges of my ancestors are not my own and no secrets held by the Midoriya Skulk will pass my lips.” His hands flex at his sides and he takes a deep breath. “I walk this path with you, not against you. I swear it.”

He can feel the metal and magic curling it’s way around his wrist, so similar to the one he can now see on Izu's. He doesn’t look at it, too busy holding the Matriarch’s gaze and awaiting her judgement.

It’s tense for a few long seconds and the smell of ozone grows almost overwhelming. He doesn’t dare to even breathe.

And then… she blinks. Her eyes are a warm green rather than gunmetal silver and something like approval rests there.

“Very well. Your oath is accepted, young Seer. I, and that of my skulk, hold no ill will toward you.”

His breath wooshes out of him and he thinks he hears laughter at the edges of the room.

Nona—because that’s who she is again, not the Matriarch—turns her head towards Izu behind him. “You’ve chosen a good one.”

Izu latches onto his arm and Auntie Inko comes up on his other side to thread her fingers through his hair.

“I know,” she says proudly.

***

It falls to Izumi to explain everything, even though it probably shouldn’t have.

Katsuki, unsurprisingly, came in with a good chunk of knowledge. For all that he’s an easily lit fuse, he’s not one to disregard an advantage. And for this situation? Knowledge was the only one he had.

Izumi kindly but firmly corrects any of the stereotypes or misconceptions his source material gave him, which was surprisingly few. The Takanashi’s bestiary was unexpectedly unbiased, it seemed.

Katsuki still looks a bit shaken from having his entire worldview turned upside down and exhausted by all the things he’s learned, so they call Mitsuki and Masaru and tell him he’s going to stay the night. It’s a bit odd, because Katsuki has never set foot in her house before, much less spent the night, but the magic settled around them means that the Bakugous don’t question it. Izumi’s spent more than enough nights at their house, so as far as they're concerned, this is normal.

It isn’t, but they aren’t going to tell them that.

Her and Kacchan build a pillow fort in the middle of her room. Kacchan starfishes out, taking up as much space as possible while Izumi curls tightly into a ball and tucks herself up against the crook of his flung out arm.

“I was pissed, you know,” he says into the darkness, apropos of nothing. It’s still dark outside and they’d be getting up for breakfast soon if they had ever gone to bed in the first place. “Absolutely furious that you kept something this big from me. I thought you- I figured that you were so damn powerful and that you’ve just spent the last four years laughing at me.”

Izumi jolts, lifting her head to stare at him in a mixture of surprise and horror. “Kacchan, I would never-”

“I know,” he cuts her off. “I know. It took me reading two more pages to figure that out. That you weren’t hiding because it was fun.”

“I wanted to tell you,” she insists and it’s true. She hated lying to Kacchan. It was just so fundamentally wrong to lie to him. But this wasn’t like with her name. This wasn’t a secret she could just do with as she wished. It affected more than just herself and she couldn’t risk her skulk the same way she’s willing to risk herself.

She doesn’t really know how to tell him that though.

“I’m still angry, and- and I hate that you could keep a secret this big from me but I… I don’t hate you.”

Izumi nods, because that’s fair.

“I’ll make it up to you,” she promises.

He snorts, knocking the back of his fist against her forehead. “Damn well better, loser. I expect you to be waiting on me hand and foot for the next month.”

 She grabs his wrist, because he’s always so fussy about his hands and the dangers associated thereof, and draws designs into it with the tip of her fingers, just under his binding.

Kacchan harrumphs but doesn't pull away and she has to smother her smile. “Of course, O Great King Bakugou,” she teases. “I am but your loyal servant.”

“Good,” he says haughtily and she doesn't have to look at him to hear the smirk in his voice. “My first order will be that you have to clean my room for me tomorrow.” He pauses. “Also, never call me ‘Bakugou’ ever again. That shit’s weird.”

Izumi gasps. “I knew you liked the nickname!”

“Eat shit and die.”

It’s not a denial and Izumi can't stop herself from chirping happily. Even when it prompts him into trying to smother her with a pillow.

***

 Katsuki’s gotten good at interpreting Izumi’s moods over the years.

She’s an open book—unlike him—and you’d think that would mean it’s easy to tell what she’s feeling but you would, of course, be wrong.

Sure she expresses herself freely and rarely tries to hide her emotions from anyone, but that means jack shit when half of them just get expressed as ‘start crying immediately’ anyway.

The amount of rage and frustration that first year had been, trying to understand her outbursts and anticipate them… Katsuki still winces at some of the following fights.

But the thing about Izu having a tail and ears, about him being able to see them now? It’s that it makes his job about two hundred percent easier. After a brief adjustment period where he has to relearn all her non-verbal signals with the inclusions of ears and a tail, he settles himself neatly at the top of the list of people who can read her like a book. Higher than, perhaps, even Auntie Inko.

It’s a surprisingly comforting thought. Especially since she’s been able to see through him for years now.

Turnabout's fair play and all that.

***

It’s two days later when Izumi sticks her head in through Kacchan’s window. It’s seven in the morning and they don’t have school today. She expects him to still be in bed but instead, he’s hunched over his desk doing ninth-grade level math they weren’t even assigned.

And he calls her the nerd.

“Hey, Kacchan!” she says brightly, grabbing his attention.

He whirls around, palms already sparking dangerously before he sees her at the window.

“Jesus fuck,” he snaps, glare chilling enough to curdle milk. “I’m gonna kill you.”

Izumi pouts at him, laying her chin on his window sill. “Aww. Kacchan that’s not nice.”

“I don’t give a damn.” He slouches back into his desk chair. Then, slowly he narrows his eyes at her, and by proxy, the window she’s leaning through. “How the fuck are you doing that?”

“What do you mean?” she asks, faux innocence.

The look he gives her is ten kinds of unamused. “I live on the second floor.”

“Yeah, so?” Izumi can practically see the steam slowly building in his ears. Smiling, she hoists herself up over the ledge with ease and front flips into the room, arms raised as she sticks the landing.

Kacchan kicks at her legs.

“I hate you,” he says to her form as she sprawls comfortably on the bed.

“Mhmm,” she hums dryly. “Nona sent me over to take inventory of your reliquary. I’m supposed to take whatever’s interesting and burn anything overly insulting.”

He raises an eyebrow at her, challenging.

“They figured I’d be the least conspicuous,” she pauses, pulling a face. “I’m also pretty sure it’s a test of some kind, but I’m not sure what about or why.”

Her only answer is a grunt.

“Now, come on and get dressed! We’ve got work to do.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he snaps but turns around to grab jeans and a black t-shirt with the word ‘SMASH!’ written in red, white, and blue inside a comic book explosion. Idly, she thinks she could probably get that signed for him.

Five minutes later, Izumi descends the stairs with Kacchan in tow to eat breakfast. She tells the Bakugous good morning as she sits at the counter and they regard her with something like amused exasperation. Mitsuki offers to make her scrambled eggs instead of asking how she got into their house without their knowing.

Raising Katsuki taught them when to pick their battles. Meeting little Izumi, who’s as crafty as she is sweet, only served to cement that lesson.

***

The second she steps into the reliquary, her nose wrinkles. Not just at the number of books she’s going to have to sort through—because seriously, were the Takanashis’ some kind of hoarders?—but also at the more… distasteful decorations.

Along the walls and placed on any open space are what Izumi can only assume are meant to be trophies.

Pixie wings pinned carefully onto boards, hollowed horns of more creatures than she can recognize, wings and teeth and claws laid out like cheap prizes. Selkie skins, harpy feathers, swan maiden coats, and wolf fur. Pelts of every color and kind are strung up like tapestries or thrown on the floor like rugs.

Izumi actually hisses when she catches sight of a honey gold foxtail placed in a display case.

There’s more, so much more, but she shuts her eyes and tries to breathe past the smell of death and rot and twisted, hungry magic blanketing the whole room.

She can feel Kacchan frowning at her, hears him shuffle a half step closer to her in an attempt at comfort. “Shoulda warned ya,” he says and it’s about as close to sorry as he gets.

“It’s fine,” she says. “When will your parents be gone?”

There’s a lot in here they need to get out and all of it are things his parents can’t see. Cursed objects in inadequate containers and more remains then she can count that deserve to be put to rest properly.

Kami, her skulk’s going to want to raise the Takanashis from their shallow graves just to kill them all over again when they see this.

“They’re going on a date tonight, actually. They’ll be gone for a couple hours.”

She nods and pulls out her phone to call the house and tell them. This was her job, and she’ll go through the books, but there’s no way she’s touching half the stuff in here without an expert telling her she can. She’s surprised the house hasn’t collapsed with how much malicious magic she can feel in here.

“What books did you already go through? We’ll sort those ones first.”

***

They spend hours down there, skimming through tomes and sorting them into ‘ acceptable’, ‘needs a more thorough read-through’, and ‘ just fucking burn it’ piles.

Nona, along with six of Izumi’s grandparents, arrive ten minutes after the Bakugous leave and their reaction to the reliquary is pretty spot on of what she expected. Which is as gratifying as it is mildly terrifying because she doesn’t think she’s ever seen her family so furious before.

Izumi and Katsuki, sometimes with the assistance of actual adults who should be doing this in the first place, make their way through all the books in about a week and a half. She’s actually kind of impressed with the amount that proved not to be total wastes of time.

She’s also, perhaps, a little bit surprised when she doesn’t catch anyone going back through the books and checking her work. No one questions her judgement.

Izumi isn’t sure what to make of that.

***

“So, is that why you and your family are so fucking weird?”

Izumi pauses, looking up from the collection of Edgar Allen Poe she was reading to stare at Kacchan who’s made himself more than comfortable on her bean bag chair. She tries to figure out what he’s trying to ask her but ultimately gives up.

“Huh?”

“Foxes,” he says like she’s stupid for not being capable of mindreading. “Are they all so fucking weird or is it just you guys?”

Izumi’s lips twist. “Most of the skulk are human.”

Kacchan rolls his eyes, flopping back against all the pillows he stole from her bed to make his throne. “Of course you are. I don’t know why I even tried.”

***

Yagi: Midoriya, my dear!

I’ve discovered a very interesting fact I think you’d enjoy

Me: oh?

what is it?

Yagi: Did you know french fries weren’t originally made in France?

Me: uh…

i guess ive never thought about it?

where were they invented?

Yagi: They were first cooked in GREECE!

Me: …

Yagi no

Yagi: HAHAHA!

Me: you have the lamest sense of humor

im going to tell everyone about your crime against jokes

Yagi: And I’m sure they will find it equally humorous!

Me: youre lucky i like you

Yagi: Of course my dear.

Me: b/c your puns are horrible

im half convinced you only helped me learn english so you can subject me to this

Yagi: That’s not very nice.

And I would NEVER

Me: mhmmm

are we still on for the skype call in an hour?

Yagi: I wouldn’t miss it.

Me: are you finally gonna tell me what the surprise is?

Yagi: Patience is a virtue, young Izumi.

Me: and sloth is a sin

come on! i’m super excited!

you’ve been hinting at it for like,,,, a week

Yagi: Quick-witted as always. Yes. I will be revealing my surprise finally.

Me: yay! :)

see you then!

Yagi: See you then, my dear.

[tirednotflirting]

couch cuddles - l.h.

school is kicking my ass and I miss my friends like mad so yes, I projected all of that here at around 2am after yelling about this sweet pic of Luke with @castaway-cashton​. 

hope everyone is finding ways to manage all of the time indoors these days. I’ve been thankful for the community on here during all of this. much love and happy reading (and pls send me thoughts, I’m still new to this and horrible at editing).

wc: ~1.6k

They were nearing the end of their third week in quarantine. Three weeks of being locked up inside (aside from a brief gloved trip to the grocery at the beginning of week two). 21 days of zoom meetings with her graduate advisor and radio interviews on facetime, of creative pasta dishes (the one thing had randomly stocked up on even before this all happened), of afternoons in the backyard watching Petunia run in circles until she stopped in front of their chairs, her sad eyes practically begging to be taken to a dog park that was unfortunately closed until this was all over.

They had settled into a routine pretty quickly. She wouldn’t start her work before 9 and unless he had some international interview he had to take part in, Luke would do the same. She would plug in her laptop and stick her phone on do not disturb at 6pm sharp. Luke would keep his stuck in the deep pockets of his sweats, always eager for a sporadic facetime from a tipsy Calum asking to let the dogs say hello or Ash calling for him to listen to a new melody he had thought up or Mike sending him another twitter meme. They switched back and forth on who made dinner, Luke had been enjoying trying things from the beginner’s cookbooks his mom had sent him sometime during the last year. They watched a lot of movies. She read a lot of books, he spent a good deal of time playing around with different songs they had been trying in the studio during February. With everything going on, she figured there were worse ways she could be living than doing what she could for her research and TAing from the comfort of her sweet boy’s kitchen table.

She had started to pick up on his cabin fever when their day began at around 5am with Luke shifting around in the bed so much it almost felt like he was doing something choreographed. After 15 minutes of his dance, she sat up on her elbow and reached for her phone to check the time. She didn’t remember exactly what the bright digits displayed across a picture of Luke and Petunia with flowers tucked behind their ears she had snapped a couple months prior were other than too early.

‘Honey, are you feeling alright?’ she asked quietly, her throat dry from sleep, as she leaned back from the bedside table. Her hand moved back to cross his chest as his own wrapped around her waist.

‘Yeah, just can’t get comfy,’ he huffed, obviously frustrated by the random early morning energy. ‘Gonna go let Miss P out for a minute. Go back to sleep, angel, you need your rest.’

While she wanted to further investigate what was up with her tired eyed boy, she immediately felt herself yawning. She lifted her head from his chest and pressed her lips to his jaw before letting her head fall back to the pillows as she felt his weight lift from the mattress.

When she woke up next, it was to the sound of her alarm and an empty bed. She padded out to the kitchen and was greeted with a kiss to the top of her cheek and her coffee. (‘I think I got the sugar to cream ratio right this time but please give me feedback, lovie.’) She shrugged off the morning, brushing off his odd early jitters with the fact that they had both been getting a lot more sleep than normal given the new situation.  

She had been busy throughout the day. It was a Thursday, her busy day, even with the quarantine. In the morning, she zoom called her advisor to check in with her more personally but also to update her on where she had gotten that week with the data she had been sifting through (being stuck outside of the lab made for good reason to finally do some data work). She did a meeting after lunch for the undergrad course she was TAing this semester. Though that discussion section had basically turned into everyone just talking about their pets and families more than talking about evolutionary theory (they needed to see faces though so she didn’t mind the chatter). She held virtual office hours after that for a couple hours (more chattering with a little bit of explaining how that equilibrium equation worked again).

So by the time her 6pm switch to do not disturb rolled around, she was more than looking forward to spending a few hours on the couch with a glass of wine and the new book she had ordered that arrived that morning.

She’d been settled on the couch for about 15 minutes and was raising a stemless glass of pinot grigio to her lips, when she looked through the big window in the living room that gave a nice view of the yard only to see Petunia wandering around but no sign of her golden boy. She looked to check what page she’d reached, mentally marking her place before getting up to look for where Luke had wandered off to, when she heard socked feet shuffling into the living room behind her. She turned her head to find the sweet face she hadn’t seen hardly at all since she was handed her morning coffee so many hours earlier. His normally bright eyes looked worried and his dimples hidden by a pouted frown.

‘Sweet pea, what’s the matter?’ she questioned, the hand not holding her novel reaching for his once he’d wandered close enough to where she sat on the couch, her left leg still folded up while her right rested against the floor, ready to get up to hug the droopy boy. She doesn’t get a chance to though as he moved to sit beside her, his fingers playing with hers almost nervously.

‘Miss the guys,’ came a quiet voice that sounded like it was coming from a tight throat. ‘And like, we’re so lucky here. And the album is doing well and the fans have pushed so much on this release. And we’re healthy and everyone we love is healthy but,’ he blinked really hard before continuing, ‘I just wanna see them. Like actually see them.’

She leaned forward to leave her book on the coffee table before moving her hand to rub at the back of his neck, her fingers working through the knots in his curls there, trying to get him to release some of the tension in his shoulders. ‘And I love being here with you and we would never normally get this much time together during an album release and I know I shouldn’t be whining and-‘

He stopped short when she pulled her hand from his and placed it against his cheek to turn his face towards her. ‘Babe, you don’t have to apologize for feeling right now,’ her thumb stroked against the top of his normally rosy cheek. ‘You’re allowed to be upset and you’re allowed to miss your boys. You’re never gone from them for this long, it makes sense.’

He opened his mouth to respond but then just nuzzled against her palm when she shushed him. ‘And I love being here with you too but that doesn’t mean I’m not bummed that my sister canceled her trip out here and that I don’t miss seeing my students every week.’

Across the room, the clatter of Petunia’s paws against the tile in the kitchen sounded out as she trotted towards the couch. Luke sniffled a little bit, and the girl he’s practically sitting on top of felt a tear against the thumb still running across his cheekbone. Petunia must have sensed the sadness coming from the couch as she jumped up and pushed herself against Luke’s legs, looking up at him for pets.

Luke blinked back tears again, his head leaning back to face the ceiling and the hand at the back of his neck moved to scratch between his shoulders. ‘I know it can’t make it go away but how about cuddles for a bit and then we can facetime everyone after dinner? See what they’re up to maybe?’ she whispered, suddenly aware of the stillness of the room.

His lips pouted a bit as he nodded and turned to her. ‘Can I lay in your lap so Petunia can get cuddles too?’

She let herself giggle softly at his request, not being able to help herself as she leaned forward to brush her lips against his pout. ‘Of course, sweet pea.’

He maneuvered his long limbs so Petunia was tucked against him (easiest access for tummy rubs) and laid his sleepy head in his girl’s lap. As one hand returned to the glass of wine beside her, the other combed through the bleached curls, softer than usual from the hair mask she convinced him to do with her earlier in the week. Though her heart ached that she couldn’t give any better of a solution to the way her sweet boy was feeling, she knew something was right by the way he quickly fell asleep, his lips pouted against her leg as he rested. She returned the glass to the side table and carefully picked up her book again, moving slowly so she didn’t disturb the sleeping boy in her lap. However, one hand did stay tucked into his hair as even in his sleep he would start fidgeting some if he couldn’t feel the lazy patterns she drew through the curls.

Later that night, as she finished rinsing their wine glasses from a late dinner, she heard his loud, bright laughter followed by ‘Baby, you gotta come see the costumes Mike and Cal got for the dogs! And bring your laptop, we need to find a pink Power Ranger costume for Petunia!’

She chuckled as she set the last glass down on the drying rack. Yeah, they were gonna be alright.

//

[ryik-the-writer]

Note: I started this fic way back in 2016, and had this Thanksgiving-themed chapter planned in advance.

Over four years and several bouts of depression-induced writers blocks later, I’m glad to finally get it out. 

I present to you: Marinara Main - Burnt Bits I . Feat. Rumbelle and a big dash of baby! swanfire.

A03

Mr. Gold pulled into Belle’s next stop, smiling at her apologetic grin as she jumped out and grabbed two pizzas from the back and bounded up the stairs to her customer’s home.

It had been two months since Belle’s French Bread’s business car had burst into flames, setting off a chain of events that involved him lending his assistance, or just his vehicle really, on her deliveries and them dating on the side. It was where they could be together without the mocking or overbearing look from the town. It was theirs, and even if Belle was delivering pizzas and Gold was just watching from the window, they were together and having the seats smell like melted cheese was worth every second.

“How’d it go?” he inquired when she jumped back in the front seat.

She leaned in and kiss his 5 o’clock shadowed cheek. “$6 tip.”

“Hmm. I should have glared at him a little more, make him drop a full $10.”

Belle gave him an unamused look. “I asked you not to scare my customers.”

“Just making sure they’re not gouging you, dear.”  

Belle sighed. She knew her sweetheart meant well, but she valued her independence. She swallowed her pride when he offered her his car for the sake of her family’s business, and held her head tall when she moved into his spare room after her accident, but drew the line with him bullying her customers into paying her sums she wasn’t offered.

It was there last delivery of the night so Belle decided to drop the disagreement for now. She had other things to worry about anyway.

“Didn’t you say Bae had an old bike gathering dust in your garage?”

“I’ve began using it as a garden decoration it’s been sitting around for so long. Why?”

“How much would you want for it?” she hated equating money into their conversations. It was gross reminder of their status difference, something he swore up and down he kept forgetting about but haunted her.

Mr. Gold slowed to a stop at the stop light. “Belle, I apologize for earlier. I was just being facetious, I swear.”

Belle paused. “Thank you for that, but what does that have to do with the bike?”

“You don’t want me to drive you around anymore.”

Belle cringed at the accusation. “That’s not it at all!”

He sagged in his seat with relief and Belle couldn’t help but laugh, relaxing when he joined her. They really needed to work on not jumping to conclusions.

“What do you need a bike for then?” He inquired.

“I don’t want you working on Thanksgiving.” She answered.

Gold looked at her. “Your father is making you work on the holiday? Is he mad?”

Belle rolled her eyes. She wondered sometimes if her father really was.

“No, just blinded by dollar signs. I read him something about how in China people have fried chicken instead of turkey and now he’s convinced that if we’re open people will forgo the turkey and order a pizza.”

“Logical.” Gold deadpanned, speeding up at the green light. “As for the bike, never you mind. You can borrow my car.”

“Won’t you and Bae be going away for the holiday?”

Mr. stared at the road ahead. “It’s always been just the two of us. Not much to celebrate really.”

Belle felt her heart sink, knowing that story all too well. After her mom died, Belle had her father spent many holidays in their quiet home with TV dinners in their laps and a game blaring. After he opened the business, holidays got livelier but there was still this sickening loneliness that bounced around in her gut.

“Well, I’ll just have to convince my dad to close shop early.”

Gold blinked from his gaze and turned to her. “Why’s that?”

“Because I’m going to need his help turkey shopping if we’re having you and Bae over.”

Gold startled back the horn, his hands flinching around a he tried to grasp the proposition.

“I…no Belle really. We couldn’t impose.”

“You’d be doing me a favor actually. I haven’t had a proper Thanksgiving meal in years.”

Gold pulled into the parking lot of French Bread. He wanted to say know, wanted to save her the burden of having him invade her home on a day that was restricted for family. However, he couldn’t resist the hopeful gleam in her eyes.

He sighed and nodded. Belle squealed and nearly jumped into his seat, kissing him roughly on the cheek.

“This is going to be great! I got to go make out a menu! I’ll call you tomorrow!”

He said nothing as she charged from his car to her business. He waited until the light came on before he made his way quietly home.

After checking on Bae’s homework situation, he stepped into his office and discretely pulled out the antique ring he had planned to offer Belle.

He wanted to be excited, and in a way, he was. His son would be able to have more festive holiday and he’d be able to spend more time with Belle, and hopefully find the right time to ask her the big question.

But crowds were not his forte, and he still wasn’t sure how her “boys” felt about him, let alone her father. He did not want to face another kidnapping escapde like he did on “poker night.”

Sighing, he left the ring alone for now, making a mental note to stop by the liquor store on his way to Belle’s tomorrow for two bottles of wine: one for tonight and another for the holiday.

-,-,-,-,-

Belle double-checked her table setting as fidgeted around the small kitchen of her and her father’s apartment.

Five plates were set: her and her father’s, Mr. Gold’ and Bae’s, and a guest her father had invited that may or may not show up.

Jefferson and Grace were heading to Jefferson’s in-laws, whom they both hated but had to visit at least once a year to avoid a nasty custody battle (which often lead to a week of pre-panic attacks from Jefferson; thank God they put that cot in the backroom).

Merlin was heading to dinner near Boston for a football game, and then to a children’s hospital, and Will was meeting Anastasia’s parents for the first time and asked only for prayers.

Belle checked the clock; it was just past 12:30 and “dinner” started at 2:30. She never quite understood this tradition of eating so early, but decided not to argue when she had five stomachs to worry about.

Belle hummed as she thought about her father. He had left early in the morning to pick up their “mystery guest”.

Thank Gods.

Moe French had started their pizzeria on a whim all those years ago, and really had no legit culinary skills. If it weren’t for her and Merlin jumping in and secretly taking over, French Bread’s would have literally burned to the ground. All his recipes had to be seriously revamped, but thankfully Moe was out half the time, handling the books or the equipment or something else that kept him far away from the food.  

Just as Belle was checking the turkey’s temperature, a knock thundered through her father��s tiny apartment. Belle panicked a bit. Whoever was at the door was extremely early, and the she had no idea how she would entertain them for two hours while she tried to finish the meal.

She threw her oven mitts on the table and rushed to answered the door before anything burned, blinking at who was there.

“Hey,” Jefferson smiled shyly.

“Hi Jeff,” Belle greeted, stepping aside to allow them entry. “What can I…”

She glanced around him and noticed Grace wasn’t with him, which wasn’t a surprise, but he was supposed to be with her.

Belle asked bit urgently. It was no secret that Jefferson had major issues with his late-girlfriend’s family. They never thought he was good enough for her, and all but disowned her when she fell pregnant. Following her death when Grace was just over a year old, they suddenly wanted sole custody. Pinning down a job at French Bread’s had been the first step to securing Grace’s future, and Belle had been so patience with his back-and-forth court dates while he sorted himself out.

She only hoped something wasn’t stopping him from attending his mandatory dinner.

“What’s going on?”

“They um…” Jefferson shrugged. “I…decided not to go.”

Belle eyed him carefully, seeing the bags under his eyes.

“Ah,” Belle said with an affirmative nod, knowing now that she couldn’t turn him away, holiday or not. Her and the rest of the French Bread’s crew were all he really had.

She stepped aside. “You’re on dishes duty.”

“Deal!” Jefferson gasped, pulling her close and giving her a smack on the cheek so loud it made Belle’s ears ring.

“Down boy!” Belle hissed, giving him a playful smack. “You stir the beans while I move the table around.”

Belle had just placed two more plates down when someone knocked on the door yet again.

She answered it with a huff, and was a bit surprised to see Merlin enter, a brown bag in his hand.

“Hi,” she greeted a bit uneasily. Merlin had left after closing yesterday to make his trip, and wasn’t due back until Sunday. By the look on his face, he hadn’t stopped to rest.

She ushered him to the kitchen where Jefferson pulled out a chair for him to sit.

“What is it?” she asked earnestly, unnerved to see her strong-minded friend in such a state.

“Nimue was at my hotel,”

Belle and Jefferson both paled. Belle didn’t know all the details about Merlin’s borderline insane ex-girlfriend, but did know that he came to Storybrooke to get away from her.

“How did she know you were there?”

“I have no idea,” Merlin sighed, exhausted. “I saw her before she saw me, and I got out of there as fast as possible,”

Belle nodded, sharing a look with Jefferson.

“How about you stay for dinner,” Belle insisted. “We’ll walk you home tonight.”

Merlin began to stand, muttering something about not wanting to impose, and Belle had to stand on her toes to weigh him down.

“You’re imposing as much as Jefferson over here is,” Belle joked. “Help me figure out this new table arrangement.”

As her friends helped her in the kitchen, Belle glanced down at her phone. Nothing from Gold or Bae yet.

Belle frowned, wondering what was keeping her kind-of boyfriend and his son, and more importantly if she was going to be able to fit them in her tiny apartment now that there were so many extra people.

Just as she about to pull out the chair she had in her bedroom, the doorbell sounded once more.

“I’ll get it,” Merlin volunteered. Like Belle, he hoped it was the Gold’s.

The resounded “oh” he released afterwards gave Belle the answer she needed.

“Hello darlings!” came a high accented voice.

Everyone turned as a tall blonde woman head to toe in scarlet entered Belle’s tiny living room, wearing sunglasses that left only the tip of her nose exposed.

She gasped and inspected Belle’s home like a tourist who has stepped foot onto Time Square for the first time, even looking at her and her guests like they were performers.

Merlin and Belle exchanged curious looks, and just as she was about to ask who the tell was in her home, Will came bounding through the house, throwing a series of suitcases into her entryway.

He collapsed against the door, looking up with her a nervous smile.

“Hey…”

“Hi,” Belle greeted, eyeing the blond as she examined her father’s dusty shelf of knickknacks. “What’s uh…what’s going on, Will?”

Just as she said that the woman turned around, approaching Belle with a wide smile.

“Darling, thank you so much for having us,” she said as she kissed Belle’s cheek.

Belle stared at her wide-eyed, shooting another at Will.

“You remember, Belle,” Will said with a strained smile. “You said you wanted Ana and I here for Thanksgiving and you wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

Belle’s eye twitched. “Of course…” she said, her mind going into overdrive as she struggled to think how she was going to fit nine damn people at two-person table.

She snuck a calming breath. This is what holidays were about, and there was no way in Hell she was turning Will, a man she saw as a brother, out the door.

Besides, she and the other men of French Bread’s were wondering about this mystery girl Will would take weekends off to see, would take extra shifts for so that he could make a few extra bucks. The four of them had everything on the table when it came to each other, all their past and present secrets.

Or so Belle thought.

Still, she smiled whole-heartedly. “It’s great to meet you, Ana,”

Ana offered a wide, glass-like smile. “Thank you, your home is so,” she glanced around. “…simple!”

All the goodwill Belle was ready to extend crumbled around her, and it was then all the little details Belle had noticed about her had gathered together.

High quality clothes and accessories, gawking at simple, working people.

She was a rich bitch. Like Regina, like countless other people who turned her nose up at people like them.

Belle glanced at Will. Did he know? Did he care?

His gaze was pitiful, begging her not to say anything.

He did know then. Belle felt a bite of betrayal on her heart. Why would he deliberately associate with someone like her, someone who would only hurt him.

A calming hand met her shoulder, and Belle met Merlin’s warning glare.

“Ana,” he greeted. “Please make yourself at home. Belle, Will and I are going to work on the seating situation.”

Ana nodded, a pleased gasp escaping her lips when she studied her father’s tacky decorations.

Merlin steered Belle and Will into the kitchen where he and Jefferson had watched the exchange.

“Thanks for the heads-up, Will,” Belle sighed exhaustedly.

“It was really last-minute, I’m sorry,” Will said.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,”

Will’s gaze melted into a glare. “And just what is that supposed to mean?”

“Okay,” Merlin said, moving between them. “How about we try to get through dinner before we start class warfare, okay?”

Belle and Will glared at each other, but it was Belle’s whose gaze lowered first.

“You’re right,” Belle agreed. “We have to figure out this seat issue before we all end up in the park.”

Will met her smile. They’d work it out, but now they had to make an already stressful day suitable for everyone, including his unexpected guest.

“What if we ate on the floor, Chinese-style?” Jefferson suggested.

They all chuckled, the sour mood broken some.

“That might be our only option, hands in everyone,”

Four hands piled on each other as a plan came into place. They were putting on Thanksgiving dinner even if a wall had to be torn down.

“One…”

“Two…”

“Three!”

                                                          0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Meanwhile…

“Stop moving!” Emma gnashed Baelfire as she glared at his puffy finger under the high-powered magnified glass in his father’s study, the glistening stone of Belle’s hopefully-soon-to-be engagement ring glistening.

“Sorry,” Bae sniffed, and Emma sighed.

“Hold it together, Bae,” Emma warned gently, reaching out to pat his son’s shoulder. “This isn’t…well actually this is your fault.”

“It’s as much as my fault as it is yours,” Bae barked. It had been a joke, when he tried on the ring he found on his father’s desk. He’d brought it to Emma and the two gushed and joked at the engagement that was to come, ready to giddily tease Bae’s father when he came out of the shower, and get the details about the obvious proposal on the way. But when Bae had slipped it on—just as a joke mind you— he knew instantly there was a problem. It was too tight, and his finger began turning pink from the strain.

Now they were struggling to get the thing off, half dressed in their holiday best for Thanksgiving dinner.

Emma released an aggravated sigh. “We’re going to have to go to the hospital.”

“But we’ll lose the ring!”

“I think your dad would rather lose the ring than your finger!” Emma argued.

Bae pondered quickly. This would ruin everything.

The ring had belonged to his dad’s Aunt Genevieve, one half of the spinster aunts that raised him. They died long before Bae was even born, but with all the stories he told of them, of how much they loved each other during a time where the law and world wouldn’t see them as one, he already knew them.

The ring was one of love, one that his father had held onto and hadn’t even given to Bae’s mother (she was more of a diamond person). But Belle would appreciated the story behind it, and she would wear it with pride.

No!

Bae jumped up and began desperately searching for anything that could be used to slide off the ring.

“Let’s go get some dish soap,” Bae began to suggest when the sound of his father leaving the bathroom echoed from the hall.

“Well, we’re screwed,” Emma shrugged.

“Not yet,” Bae denied, mind reeling with thought. If his dad caught them, they’d be at the hospital with a saw before they knew what hit them!

“Check the desks,” Bae suggested in a hoarse whispered. “Maybe he has ink or oil from his antiques or something!”

Emma gasped. “We have baby oil at my place! We can sneak it out before my parents catch on!”

“Yes!” Bae hissed, heading to the door.

“Bae, where are you?” Gold called close by, causing Emma and Bae to shrink back.

Emma glanced around and made a b-line to the window. She opened it and made a quick survey of the distance and began stepping out.

“What are you doing!” Bae hissed, panicked.

“What does it look like?” Emma hissed back. “We should be find if we jump from here.”

“Jump! Off the roof?” Bae squeaked.

Emma glared up at him from her place near the gutters. “You want to risk it or you want to wait for your dad to find us and kill you for sure.”

Bae glanced back to the door where he could hear his father moving about. With a groan, he stepped out of the window, gripping the tiles for dear life as Emma led them to the draining pipe.

“Hold on tight and slowly slide down,” Emma instructed, easing onto the pipe.

“How do you know about this?” Bae whined as he watched her slide down like a firefighter on a pole.

Emma gave him a look when she hit the ground, placing her hands on her hips and waiting for him expectedly.

Gulping, Bae took hold of the pipe, trying to steady his breathing as he tried to gain a hold. He tried to up it with his shoes, but slipped instantly, having to grab the gutter to keep from falling.

“Shit, shit!” Emma gasped as Bae hung from the gutter. “Just…don’t think about the ground!”

“Thanks for the adv—”

The gutter snapped, and Bae managed to hold onto the bending metal until it started snapping off the foundation and Bad landed head-first into a neatly trimmed shrub.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!” Emma panicked, grabbing hold of Bae’s leg. “Please be alive, please be alive…”

Bae groaned and slowly sat up, his face scratched and eyes unfocused.

“Anything feel broken?” Emma asked as she carefully picked leaves and twigs out of his curls.

“My brain’s still shaking, hang on,” Bae groaned.

“Bae?” Gold’s voice echoed from the office above.

“Break’s over!” Emma hissed, grabbing Bae and dragged him through the back garden and down the street.

                                                    0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Mary Margaret Nolan was –understandably – quite surprised when she answered the door and found the young Baelfire Gold and her daughter standing on her steps.

“Hi Mrs. Nolan,” Bae greeted with just the lightest air of nervousness.

“Hi, Bae,” Mary Margaret greeted uncertainly. “I…wasn’t expecting you. Emma, it’s nearly dinner time. Your grandparents are here…”

“He won’t be here long,” Emma cut in, grabbing Bae’s arm and drug him up the stairs.

“Hold it,” Mary Margaret called after them. “You know the rules, Emma…”

“We’re not going to my room!” Emma called back, rolling her eyes. She never understood why her parent’s suddenly put the “no boys in bedroom” rule in place earlier that year. Bae’s dad let them be by their selves at their place, especially on their video game-movie-pizza nights in the basement.

Oh well.

Keeping a glance over her shoulder, she led Bae to baby Neal’s room, watching every step to avoid making even the slightest noise.

“Maybe I should do it,” Bae suggested when they stood outside his room.

“No,” Emma resisted, slowly turning the knob. “If he sees you, he might freak out. Just be quiet.”

Bae rolled his eyes but stayed outside the room, waiting impatiently as Emma tip-toed into her baby brother’s room to grab the baby oil.

His father was bound to start calling him or the Nolan’s soon. They needed to get the ring off and back to his place soon.

“Find it yet, Emma?” Bae hissed as he opened the door a crack, meeting baby Neal’s large green eyes.

Bae grinned nervously at the babe, not entirely sure how to act around children. Apparently it wasn’t the right thing because Neal burst out screaming at the site of him.

“Damn it Bae,” Emma cursed, grabbing his arm and pulling him from Neal’s room as Mrs. Nolan called up the stairs.

Emma dragged him into the bathroom just as Mary Margaret sped up the steps to comfort Neal, leaving the two teens holding their breaths and listening to every step she took.

Emma snatched Bae’s hand to hold over the sink, dousing it with baby oil and trying desperately to yank the ring off.

“You’re pulling my whole damn finger!” Bae cursed, yanking away hard and hitting the door.

Emma dropped the baby oil, the plastic echoing through the small bathroom sounding like a bomb.

“Emma?” Mary Margaret’s voice rang, knocking on the door a second later.

Emma quickly locked it, flinching when her mother gasped and began wriggling the knob.

“Emma Ruth Nolan what is going on in there!”

Bae muttered a word that his father would have grounded him a month for while Emma began pushing open the tiny bathroom window.

“We’ve got to risk it,” she gasped, her blond locks flying wildly as she judged their distance.

“Oh…no!” Bae shook his head, stepping back. “I am not going through another window!”

Mary Margaret continued to pound on the door, shaking the knob profusely.

“That’s it young lady…David!”

Emma and Bae stiffened. David Nolan was a great man, but as a father he was more terrifying than a rabid bat in a Halloween haunted house when it came to his children’s well-being.

As they heard the Nolan patriarch’s boots shake the house, Emma and Bae scrambled to the window, now suddenly eager to make a quick get-away.

“Me first, he wants my blood!” Bae hissed.

“No!” Emma seethed, pushing Bae away by his face. “Me first, and watch me this time so you don’t die!”

Bae reluctantly stepped back and helped Emma ease out of the small bathroom window legs-first, sweating profusely as Mrs. Nolan relayed the locked door situation to Mr. Nolan.

“Hurry it up!” he begged as Emma grabbed his collar to pull him unceremoniously through the tiny window as her father began banging on the door.

“You have a big head, Bae!” Emma snapped as they struggled to get his shoulders through the window. Hearing Mr. Nolan’s booming voice threatening to break the door (and Bae’s legs—thought that may have been his anxiety spiraling), Bae wormed his way out until he clutching the tiles of Emma’s roof.

Emma had already located the steady gutter near her room and called out to Bae to follow her lead.

“Slowly…slowly!” she instructed as Bae struggled to grasp onto the gutters with his swollen finger. “Our gutters are cheaper than yours.”

Bae growled as he slid down the tiles, the toe of his shoe sliding over the metal of the gutter.

Just as he thought he had a chance to get off this damn roof without injury, the tell-all sound of the bathroom door bursting open shocked him to the point that he lost his grip on the roof and went spiraling down.

Emma released the drain and flew down the extra five feet, hitting the ground hard.

“Bae?” she cried, helping her friend turn over.

Bae groaned, holding his head as he looked at his best friend.

“We’re having a talk about all this when this is over.”

Emma smirked and helped him up. “Let’s get to Belle’s.”

Just as the words left her mouth the two youths heard a loud bang from upstairs.

They managed to squeeze behind a hedge before Emma’s head shot out of the window, his murderous gaze burning into the ground.

“Baelfire Gold you better have one hell of an explanation for this or I’m going to shake one from you!”

Sweaty bullets ran down the young Gold’s back, his body numb even as Emma began dragging him away.

“We got to go!”

“I…I think I’m having a heart attack…”

“Move it!”

                                          0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Gold searched the misty streets of Storybrooke as calmly as his racing mind would allow.

Bae had snuck out for some odd reason, and if he didn’t have the explanation of his lifetime he’d be grounded until he graduated high school!

To add to the mystery, he could have sworn he’d heard Emma in his office as well.

The pawnbroker sighed and wondered if he had to give Bae the old birds and the bees talk again. His son was a few months shy of 15, and had been more than responsible when it came to such matters since the last time they had that talk last year, especially when it came to Emma Nolan.

He trusted his son to mind himself around the Sherriff’s daughter, and had shown any romantic interest in her. Why Gold didn’t want to jump to conclusions, he was worried that those interests may be changing if they were locking themselves in rooms now.

Just as he was about to turn around, the all too familiar sound of police sirens wailed behind him, the mulit-colored lights instantly causing his head to throb.

“I don’t have time for this!” he cursed, jumping out of the car as they both pulled to a stop.

Sherriff David Nolan stepped out, looking unamused.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you never to leave a car when a cop pulls you over?”

Gold glared at his sometimes acquaintance. He and David got along like sheep and sheep dogs: they did much better a part, and there wasn’t a promise that teeth wouldn’t be used during their encounters.

“When an actual cop pulls me over, I’ll remember that,” Gold snarled.

David frowned. “Okay, enough niceties, I saw your son and my daughter jump out of my bathroom window. I want to know why and where they are now. I have angry in-laws and an even angrier wife, and I am not going back to them without my daughter.”

Gold’s eyes widened. It was worse than he thought. Something was going on with them, and he needed to get to them before they got into any more trouble.

And there was really only one person he could think of that his son would run to.

“I’m not sure, but I will find them,” Gold said, returning to his car.

“Hold it,” David said, placing a hand on the hood of Gold’s car. “You know something, so either I come with you or we can settle this at the station.

Gold gave him a bland look. They both knew David wouldn’t dare, but like Gold, he was a terrified parent and would make any threats necessary to ensure the safety of his daughter.

He motioned to the passenger door, hoping Belle wouldn’t mind an extra guest for the holiday.

“Get in.”

                                            0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Belle managed to hold her tongue as the blonde bombshell gawked at her cooking. It was cute in a way, honestly, her general interest, but Belle couldn’t decide if it was out of delight or judgment.

She glanced into the living room where Will and the rest of the men were rearranging furniture to accommodate for all the extra people. He looked at her as well, begging her to accept Ana.

Belle sighed. “Would you…like to help?”

Ana’s well-manicured hands shot up. “Oh no, darling. I’ve never worked in a kitchen before.”

Belle held back a snort and helped Ana position the bowl of sweet potatoes she had been mashing and showed her how to hold the masher.

“Just keep crushing them until their smooth, no lumps. Then we’re going to put them in a dish and cover it with brown sugar and marshmallows for a casserole.”

Ana’s eyes widened as she awkwardly mashed the potatoes.

“Is this…a meal…all people eat?”

Belle bristled a bit. “It’s pretty popular for this holiday, though I don’t mind eating it whenever sweet potatoes are on sale.”

Ana paused. “You eat discounted food?”

Belle gripped the counter. “Yes, some of us can’t afford lobster and steak every night.”

“What was that?”

“I said I need to check on the turkey,” Belle replied, and it was both the true and a distraction.

Belle opened the boiling oven and poked at her crisping bird. It was the first she had made that wasn’t from a bag, and she wanted it to be perfect…as perfect at her pizza making skills would allow that is.

As she was reapplying the tin foil, Ana came to look over her shoulder.

“Oh, it’s so hot!” she laughed, the sound light and chirpy.

“Maybe don’t get so closed to it,” Belle muttered, slamming the oven shut.

Ana jumped back, tensing when Belle brushed past her.

Belle returned to cutting vegetables for the dressing, Ana coming beside her to continue smashing the smooth potatoes paste.

Belle glanced to the living room at Will’s pleading glance and continued to force conversation for his sake.

“So, what do you do for a living?” Belle inquired.

“Oh,” Ana answered cheerfully. “A little of this, a little of that. Usually I’m in a plane being catered off to some event or another.”

Belle hummed, unsurprised. “Sounds nice.”

“Will tells me you own your own business,” Ana offered.

“You’re standing above it,” Belle returned, chuckling a bit. She was rather surprised to hear Ana return the sediment.

At least she had a sense of humor. Maybe she wasn’t so bad after all.

“Of course, business would be charitable at best.”

Belle’s knife stilled, the small hairs on the back of her neck standing on end.

“I…beg your pardon?”

Ana giggled, not yet knowing the beast she was about to unleash.

“Oh, it’s a sweet little hobby, darling, but you can’t possibly find it profitable,” Ana said, sweet as overly sugared coffee.

Belle gripped the knife she was holding, struggling to hold back all the nasty instincts she had to smash the blonde in front of her.

Yet…Ana was right.

French Bread had been operating in the red for years, but they’d always been pretty well off. Moe managed to keep everyone employed however, and were overall comfortable.

Belle had never looked at her business as a hobby. She saw it as a lifeline, one that she liked at that.

She made something that people liked. She offered her business for fundraisers for the local schools, and took pizzas to families after a loss or birth.

She was a member of this community, and damn it she was a business owner, no matter what she made.

Before she could defend her very livelihood—or even throw Ana’s arse out—Baelfire and a panting Emma Nolan came bustling in, slamming the door and locking it as if they were being chased.

“Bae?” Belle gasped. “What on earth—”

“You got to help us!” Emma gasped, grabbing Bae’s hand.

“No,” he protested, squirming in her grip.

Emma dragged him to her level, glaring fiercely.

“My dad’s probably on his way here with a hatchet, and I do want to jump out of another window!”

“Wait, what?” Belle demanded.

Emma snatched Bae’s hand up, showing Belle his swollen finger.

Belle gasped. “Bae, why are you wearing this?”

Bae gulped, glancing at Emma. “I…well…you see…”

Belle shook her head and led him to the couch.

“Merlin, can you grab my first aid kit? It’s under the bathroom sink.”

Merlin nodded and set off.

“Will, I need some ice, we need to get the swelling down.”

“I’ll get it!” Ana volunteered, practically skipping to the kitchen. “Oh, ice trays, how cute!”

Belle’s eye twitched. “Will…”

Will quickly got the ice from Ana, handing it to Bae without meeting Belle’s eyes.

“Crazy day, eye lad?”

“Yeah…” Bae said, wincing as Belle examined his hand.

“What happened, and where’s your dad?” Belle inquired.

“Probably right on our asses,” Emma muttered. Jefferson chuckled.

Merlin handed Belle the kit and winced at the purple digit.

“Maybe we should get Whale down here?

“NO!” Bae and Emma shouted.

“He’ll cut it,” Bae said. “Then it’ll be ruined.”

“I think your dad would be more concerned about Whale cutting off your finger than a ring from his inventory.” Belle said.

Bae looked down guiltily at the ring unknowingly meant for his possible future step-mother.

A family heirloom and a proposal would be lost today on his account. It was almost too much to bare, especially after he nearly died trying to save them both.

It’d hurt to tell Belle, but he was going to be grounded until after new year’s anyway. Might as well attempt to save one.

“Wait, Belle,” Bae begged as she was dialing the number. “I need to tell you—”

A loud pound on the front door cut him off.

“Baelfire Gold,” came David Nolan’s booming voice.

“Shit!” Emma and Bae hissed, instantly searching for a window.

“What on earth…” Belle began as Merlin began to open the door, only to have David push it open with his weight.

His heated stare instantly fell on Bae, and then on his sweating daughter.

“What is going on with you two?” he demanded.

“Dad, I can explain!” Emma swore as Bae shot up to stand behind her.

He looked back and forth between the two teens, and then finally the ring on Bae’s finger.

“Oh hell no!” he exclaims, jumping to the most severe conclusion.

Bae and Emma followed his glare, paled, and then looked at each other.

“Whoa, no, no!” she burst.

“You two are too young to get married have you lost your mind!” he yelled.

Belle stepped in front of the teens, trying to bring peace back into her living room.

“David, don’t be ridiculous,” Belle instantly defended, ducking beside Bae. “Right?”

“No!” Bae burst, pulling away from Belle. “This whole thing is because—”

The door flew open once more and Mr. Gold burst in, panting like he just ran a marathon.

“I told you to wait for me, Nolan!” he barked. “There’s three flights of steps to get through!”

“It’s a good thing I’m here, they were about to run off together!” the deputy fought.

Gold looked at his son, eyes instantly drawn to his swollen finger and the ring suffocating it.

He paled a bit, and looked at a frazzled Belle, and then the other guests in her home who looked just as confused as she (except the blonde who looked amused —who was she?)

“Belle,” he began, gripping his cane tightly. “I can explain.”

“You explain in the station,” David said, heading to Bae. “We’re going to have a talk young man—”

Gold stepped in front of him, snarling like a wolf protecting its cub.

“Like hell you are!”

“Oh this is exciting!” Ana cheered.

“For god’s sake.” Belle groaned.

“Okay, everyone calm down,” Merlin tried to sooth as Gold and David went at each other.

“Your son is a menace!”

“Your daughter was the one who was dragging him out of windows!”

“Oh my god I want to die!”

The piercing sound of the ancient fire alarm screaming through the air.

Jefferson fist-pumped the air.  “Yelling feels really good right now!”

Belle looked around at her chaos-filled living room, her heart clenching.

All she wanted was a nice dinner with her friends and family – the first real nice dinner she’d had in years at that!

Jaw clenched, blood boiling, she turned to step into the kitchen, Will and Merlin watching her carefully.

Grabbing her broom, she aimed the handle at the screaming fire detector and promptly stabbed it, the thing slowly dying with a low whine.

The room became quiet, all eyes turning to the fuming woman. Even Ana had stilled, this part of the simple life mostly unappealing.

Belle turned to turn off the stove and donned oven mitts, glaring at Merlin when he offered to assist.

She removed the scorched bird, taking a moment to mourn what could have been, before turning to her terrified onlookers.

“You,” she growled, pointing at Gold. “You said you could explain, so tell me, what the everlasting hell is happening here tonight?”

Gold gaped at her, his heart pounding. He couldn’t tell if he was utterly terrified of her or madly in love.

Well, the later was a no-brainer. That was the whole reason he had delicately cleaned his great-aunt’s ring. He wanted her in his life as long as she would have him.

He looked at his son. The boy was no doubt facing a very long probation for putting him through all this, but he very honestly looked remorseful.

Gold looked at Belle, beautiful, bright, brilliant Belle. The woman he loved. The woman who’d brought so much life into his gray world.

Belle continued to stare at him expectantly, and Gold knew he needed to act now if he didn’t want to get sent through a window.

He turned to his son, frowning, and held out his hand.

Confused, Bae reached out his ringed-hand, and gasped when his father represented his whole hand to Belle.

Gold carefully got down on his good knee, the spectators in the room alighting when the realized what was occurring.

Belle’s face as well melted, her cheeks pinking.

“Belle,” he began. “I love you so much. These last few months have been some of the best of my life and I want to have so many more, years in fact.”

Belle’s knees began to shake. She hadn’t planned for this. She wasn’t ready. They should be somewhere nicer than her dingy apartment. She should be in a nicer dress. They should…they should…

“So as soon as a I pry this ring off my son’s finger…”

Bae winced.

“Clean and resize it, I…I would very much like you to be my wife.”

Belle could only stare, all words lost. Is this what true, unabridged happiness felt like?

“Well?” Jefferson urged, causing Will and Merlin to shush him harshly.

David had already brought out his phone and was recording dutifully.

“For mom?” Emma chuckled.

“Oh yeah, she loves this stuff.”

Belle released a wet laugh, tears building behind her eyes.

“I…I…”

The door swung open before she could answer, her headset father clambering in and shivering.

“Sorry I’m late Be…” he looked around and the myriad of strangers in his living room.

His eyes particularly zeroed in on Gold—the man who almost ruined his business not too long ago—who had hastily released his son’s hand and was slowly rising from his knee.

“What on earth?”

“I…think the market might have one more turkey we can grab,” Merlin suggested, clutching Jefferson and Will’s shoulders. “Let’s go see.”

The two men dared not protest. Will quickly took Ana’s hand and led her from the apartment before Belle went off on them all.

“It was lovely to meet you darlings!” she said, not seeing Belle exaggerated eye roll.

David stopped his phone and poked Emma’s shoulder, motioning that they really needed to leave.

“Bye Bae,” she whispered, signaling for him to text her later as Moe and David nodded awkwardly to each other.

“Well that’s different, the former Australian citizen said.

“I swear dad, there’s a reason for all of this,” Belle gasped, feeling a bit calmer once Gold was straight by her side.

There was a sound outside, and Moe peeked out the door, saying something so soft that Belle nor Gold could pick it.

“We can talk about this later,” Moe said, chirpier than he was a moment ago. “I really need you to meet someone.”

Belle blinked, wondering if this someone was the reason her father had been so absent from his business—and her life—for the last several months.

She glanced at Gold, who was frowning sulkily. A beautiful, abet odd, proposal had been smite, he was hurting.

Belle took hold of his hand, smiling when he met his eyes.

It’s okay, she said, we can try again.

He smiled back, thankful.

Moe stepped aside to allow, to Belle’s slight surprise, a woman enter.

Like Ana, she was elegantly dressed, though didn’t stand out quite like she had.

There was almost a familiarity to her, the way her shoulders straightened and her hands clasped over her hips, like someone in charge.

However, her attention was brought back to her current boyfriend. His hand had fallen from hers, leaving her cold, and confused.

“Belle, I’d like you to meet—”

“Why Mr. Gold,” the woman greeted, carefully.

She stepped forward, and Belle suddenly felt like she was being advanced by a wolf.

“How lovely it is to see you.”

Belle shot to her boyfriend. He was pale, trembling just enough that she could feel the vibrations in the old wood of her apartment floor.

Gold couldn’t find the words he needed. Couldn’t even scream if he so chose to.

The very world around him—years of healing, of running—gone.

All because one woman had returned into his life.

“Cora.”

[justthatamount]

Hey its me again! I need to vent but I can’t do it anywhere else!

tw; Fighting, talk about mental illness in a bad light, threatening, panic attacks, talk of mental hospitals, talk of dead naming and misgendering. cursing

Ok so I don’t remember everything about last night because someone else probably had to take over. Anyway so last night a friend of mine who we’ll call Joe cus why not? Anyway he was reaching out for support through crisis lines and stuff and our other friend Mist was helping him build up the confidence before to text someone. I joined the call and started helping as well. We then started trying to find a way to get him to a crisis center. My first thought was “Oh! my brother can probably help!” So I went and asked my brother after telling him how long it would take he turned it down. So while they where on call with a crisis line I went and asked my mom if she could help us get Joe there. She got really pissed at me and told me it was illegal and there was nothing she could do. Which was a lie because we originally told the lady on the crisis line I would be getting him there and she knew about the home situation. Beyond that in the state I live in you have to be 12 to consent to your own mental health treatment. He is older than 12 so his parents didn’t need to know. I spent roughly 5 minutes trying to convince my mom ignoring the building panic attack because of how they where talking to me. This was for a really good friend of mine I wasn’t about to back down. She told me I needed to call 911 which I refused he was on a crisis line I wasn’t about to make him do something until he was ready we where working with him not against him. 

Anyway my mom told me to go downstairs and try and convince my dad so I did. Still ignoring the building panic attack at being yelled at. I couldn’t convince my dad and now I had two people very pissed at me. They equated it to kidnapping (it was not) and that if anything happened to him while he was in our car we’d be blamed. Which makes sense but he may be a danger to himself but we weren’t calling a safe to tell on him either. He was a part of this he wouldn’t do that. Eventually I accepted they weren’t going to help and headed upstairs to sort this out and let myself have a panic attack. Then they decided to follow me (breaking all the things the mental hospital told them not to do along the way) saw me having a panic attack and blamed it on him. They started interrogating me on how I knew Joe and so I told them he was introduced to me by my friend Mist and we are all really close. 

My parents though took that as. Someone you barely know asked you to drive him to a crisis center even though hes really far away. Plus a friend from the mental hospital introduced me to someone mentally unstable? Then she insinuated mentally unstable people shouldn’t have friends. Telling me I was having this panic attack not because of them screaming at me but because my friend was being to taxing. Which was wrong I told them so but they refused to believe me because I wasn’t scared at all I was proud. I understand how terrifying getting help can be and I was happy to help him through it. Anyway I told them to leave me alone because they clearly wouldn’t help and they didn’t understand at all. My friend never asked me he needed help getting there and Mist and their family was all sick so they couldn’t do it so I offered to see what I could do. This wasn’t emotionally taxing at all until they started yelling at me.

Anyway sometime into my panic attack I was explaining what was going on to my friend. So he knew I wouldn’t be able to help as much. He understood and was really worried (because they knew we’re a system and this was my parents I could be in danger) anyway they then forced me to hang up. While I was trying to convince them my friends wheren’t bad people. Skylar was close to front and really pissed because these where his friends too. So we where getting really upset and then my mom looks at us and goes “do we need to send you back to the mental hospital?” I was like NO! I don’t need to go back! Skylar was baffled too. See I’ve been clean for 2 days which doesn’t sound like much but for us because we’re a system it’s hard to get everyone to stay clean. Our goal is 4 days right now and we’re proud of being halfway there. We don’t need to go back because we’re not at our worst point which is when you need to be there!

Anyway they forced us to hang up and go to sleep. I did as was told and they took my phone (Im on my computer right now) So then still having a panic attack I started trying to get to sleep. Venting into the air to help calm myself down. Skylar managed to take over for a few minutes and halt the panic attack before I took back over. Then my mom opened the door hearing me calm down and said “give me his adress I’m going to call the police because I feel like you aren’t telling me everything you’re still panicking therfore youre lying.” Yeah no shit sherlock it takes a bit to calm down from a panic attack what did you think? I was being completely honest because I wanted my friend to get help. Anyway Skylar started yelling at her and she told us we obviously don’t care about him if we won’t let her do this. My dad came upstairs again and asked what was going on (my mom played the victim card) and I was pissed. They both left and I spent the next hour trying not to relapse because they took all my healthy coping skills (which where on my phone like, reading fanfic, talking to my friends, music) with them so I was only left with the unhealthy ones. The only reason I didn’t is because my friends are so supportive and do so much and are healing I took that as encouragement to keep safe. By the way they misgendered and deadnamed me that entire time.