#shitty mom and if her mom had the ability to change she could have changed all along she just didnt.

[whoopsyeahokay]

October Moon

summary: it had been game night. Xavier had told Simon about the backpack, but he hadn't been sure that you'd gotten the message; the friendship had dissolved into a shitty game of telephone. regardless, you'd had a surprise for Wally and you'd wanted to make sure to execute it, so whatever grievances you and Xavier had had, those had been shoved aside for the night...until he'd needed you.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: smutty smut smut. mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER MOON pt.2

Xavier stared at his phone, thumb hovering over the Send button, rereading his message for the fifth time. He hadn't spoken to you since last Friday. Not more than a handful of words, anyway. He knew you knew about him and Claire. He hadn't needed Simon's confirmation that you'd been told; he could see it in your eyes, in the way you held yourself when you saw him, the defiance in your stance and the disappointment around your mouth.

In his heart, he'd forgiven you for keeping him in the dark about your abilities. Your family's abilities. Now his abilities. And while it ached to have been lied to, he understood why you'd done it. That it hadn't been entirely your choice. That, if you hadn't had the pressure of generations on your shoulders, you would've told Xavier in a heartbeat.

He trusted that that was the truth because, despite everything, he knew you. Intrinsically. That solid red rope that extended from his chest to yours meant you and he had a profound connection that could and would weather storms, and although it didn't completely soothe the rejection he felt, it made it bearable.

No, Xavier hadn't reached out because he was afraid.

He had no idea how to tell you (and by extension, Maddie) about what he'd seen in the theater. After Aiden's death. After his dad had slapped the side of the ambulance and signaled for it to go. After Christopher Nears' car had been driven to the quarry, the long walk back to the farmhouse to collect the cruiser and Christopher Nears, dead and disfigured and shoved in the trunk that would later be meticulously cleaned.

Bile burned the back of Xavier's throat as the memory flashed in his mind. Jesus. Fuck.

No, Xavier hadn't been responsible for his dad's actions, barely thirteen at the time, but how the hell was he supposed to casually mention, by the way, my dad who I love despite how fucking shitty a parent he can be, covered up a murder and lied to everyone.

He'd spent the past week trying to make amends on his dad's behalf. As if that had any effect. Xavier went to Sandra's, helped her clean up the house, supported her through cleaning up herself, and tried his best to quietly assume the role of a man who'd essentially killed himself to save his best friend's brother.

God. For nothing. Christopher had killed his body for nothing. If he'd just—No. Xavier couldn't do that. Ruminate a thousand what-ifs that wouldn't serve any purpose apart from driving him fucking insane.

Throughout the week, he'd stayed clear of his dad unless he had no other choice. That familial blue thread flickered black for long spans when his dad would call him over for a conversation. Usually scathing and nasty, no punches pulled as Xavier's dad criticized or griped about something Xavier had or hadn't done.

He didn't know what the thread's ever-changing color meant. Possibly that he and his dad were drifting farther apart and, one day—sooner than later—the thread would break altogether and they'd be cosmic strangers.

Xavier swallowed.

His mom wasn't answering his calls. Busy. You know how work gets, honey, she'd explained once.

Nicole was sweet and kind and had allowed Xavier to be there for her while she and Xavier conducted their own investigation into Maddie's...into Maddie. Xavier refused to tell Nicole the truth. Believed Simon should do the honors, but he'd been busy with Maddie prowling after Claire, so innocent Nicole remained in the dark.

Sandra couldn't help. He didn't want to bring her into things. She was fragile and hopeful and, contrary to everyone's opinion of him, Xavier wasn't a dick. You knew that. He knew you knew that. As angry as you were at him, Xavier knew that you still loved him as much as he loved you. More than friends.

Family.

Which was why, with a shaky hand and a deep, wearied exhale, Xavier said a little prayer and pressed Send.

"Cops found Maddie's backpack. I'm going to the house. Corner of 10th and Lasher. Meet me at 6."

After short seconds of deliberation:

"I'm sorry."

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

You sat on the workbench while Nanna cut, assembled, and pinned the boutonniere you intended to present to Wally before the Homecoming game. A silly gesture, but one you felt strongly about making. After all he'd been through, after all he'd lost, you thought Wally deserved it.

Nanna hummed as she worked, timeworn hands expertly fitting the olive branch and white lily together around a flush of black baby's breath.

Before Aurora had inherited it, Nanna had owned and operated the flower shop on Main Street since the '70s. Lived in the apartment above it while her children—your mother and uncle—had still been young. A charming, cozy place squished between Jerry's Wine & Spirits and an upscale pet store.

When Aurora had come home last year, Nanna had decided to retire and leave the shop in Aurora's capable hands. Keep it in the family, Nanna had said as she'd handed over the keys.

You couldn't help but think that a flower shop was the perfect resource for whatever ingredients went into the tea Nanna was sipping iced. You stared at the half-full mason jar as if it were a bomb to dismantle.

"You're thinking awfully loud, sweetpea," Nanna commented gayly, grey eyes sparkling as she put the finishing touches to the boutonniere and laid it carefully in a plastic container.

Without preamble, "Where do we get the tea?" you blurted, gaze flickering between Nanna and her mason jar.

Nanna cocked her head as if trying to read you, and then, "I'm not sure, honestly. You'll have to ask your mother."

"Mom's the one who brought it into the house?" You said, like the tea was a biological weapon. With how it smelled, that wasn't too far off, you reckoned.

Nanna said gently, "Yes. It was a natural alternative to the medication she'd been prescribed after your brother passed."

"So, it's like a sedative?"

"Oh, heavens no." Nanna chuckled, "It does have a calming effect, which, for people like us, isn't a bad thing." She winked at you and tapped the side of her nose. Conspiring.

"What's that mean?" You wondered.

"Connectedness can be overwhelming, no matter how practiced you are with yours. The tea slows the brain down a bit." She glanced at her mason jar, "Nothing like modern pills, but I find it helps when I wake up too jittery because of my connection to the Awen." That being the ethereal, creative force which flowed through all things and held them together.

"Why not drink chamomile?" Your face twisted in disgust, "That stuff stinks."

Nanna huffed and smiled, "You used to guzzle the stuff, sweetpea." She lifted her mason jar and tilted it at you, "Or don't you remember?"

You reared back, threatened by the fetor, "Blech. Yeah, I realized it was terrible and did myself a favor." Though, that wasn't entirely true, was it?

The decision to stop drinking the tea hadn't been conscious. Rather, it'd happened gradually over the few days leading up to and then following Maddie's disappearance. You'd just...stopped.

"You're as dramatic as your mother," Nanna said and took a sip. She put the mason jar down, handed you the plastic container with the boutonniere in it, "You never told me who this was for."

"A boy." You grinned as you hopped off the workbench. In the same instant, your phone buzzed in your pocket.

"A boy we know?" Nanna pried in that good-natured way older women did.

You scanned the text notification, unable to disguise your shock when you read who it was from. Xavier. Who'd been actively avoiding you all week. Your heart jumped to your throat and your belly tightened as a wave of anxiety rippled through you.

Nanna retrieved your attention by setting a hand on your forearm. "Is that him now?"

"Uh...no." You looked up and smiled at her, "No, it's just Xavier."

Gladly, "Oh good," Nanna said, "You've patched things up, then?"

Not wanting to open that can of worms when you now had approximately no minutes to leave the house, "Getting there," you offered and angled yourself toward the door. Gesturing gently with the boutonniere, "Thanks, Nanna," you said and stepped across the mudroom.

"You still haven't told me who the boy is," Nanna reminded you, tone as meddlesome as her grin.

"Right, yeah, it's..." You floundered internally for a second and then tossed in the air the first name that came to mind, "Simon. Elroy. You haven't met him."

Shit.

"Well, I can't wait to meet him tomorrow." Nanna said kindly as she began to tidy her workbench.

"He hasn't said yes yet," You gulped, already plotting how to persuade Simon to meet you at your house before the dance.

Nanna flapped her hand, "He will. If you think he's worth giving that—" the boutonniere "—to, then he must be smart enough to know how lucky he is."

Nanna's flattering remark warmed you to your toes. Granted, grandmothers were inclined to dote on and adore their grandchildren no matter what, but it felt wonderful regardless.

Nanna was the woman in your life who celebrated every single one of your accomplishments, no matter how small. She comforted you when you were upset, encouraged you when you were nervous, praised you when you were insecure. The wind in your sails since your mother had grown comparatively detached in the years that had followed Aiden's death.

Sometimes you wondered if your mother blamed you as much as you blamed yourself.

"Thanks, Nanna," You said again, honied and pleased. When you turned to leave the mudroom, you almost bumped into Ginny. Mercifully, her tiny frame was a lot more dense than it appeared, even in her 80s, so you weren't at risk of pulverizing her on impact. "Sorry, Ginny," You apologized, shamefaced.

Ginny scoffed, "It'd better take more than a knock from you to kill me, chicken. These old bones still have a lot left to do on this earth."

"Good. Because I don't want you going anywhere until I'm in my eighties." You giggled, giving her a short hug and smacking a kiss to her cheek.

You noticed she wasn't done up in her usual regalia—strings of costume jewelry and feathered robes. Today, she was dressed down in a plain frock, her only necklace the small silver pendant she always wore, To ward off evil. One day it would be yours, Ginny had promised as she'd disregarded Aurora's accusations of favoritism. Ginny's cryptic response to that had been, You don't need it, little lamb. Your sister, on the other hand, will.

To this day, you had no idea why you'd need it or if it actually warded off evil like Ginny claimed, but who cared? You enjoyed rubbing it in Aurora's face. Although, now that you thought about it, it probably wasn't a flex to need a talisman that warded off evil...

"She's got a new boyfriend," Nanna piped up from behind you, shades of glee her cadence. "We get to meet him tomorrow night."

Ginny gave you wide eyes and a toothy smile, "Oh, is that so?"

"I'm leaving now," You announced, plucked your way around Ginny, and proceeded to ignore the hoots and coos that followed you out of the house.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Everett spotted Maddie as she entered the stadium, pensive, withdrawn, an impression he'd come to recognize as meaning she'd unearthed another possible clue in the mystery of how she'd become a ghost. Something he didn't need right now with Amelia breathing down his neck.

His attention diverted upward to Charley, bunched in a seat and scribbling away in a notebook, his face drawn in straight lines of concentration. A new and private exercise Everett wasn't privy to.

He'd never seen Charley so intent, so determined. Writing the hours from end to end like he was composing the next headlining teenage opera.

For the first time in decades, Everett felt like he'd been pushed aside. Like his students were drifting away. It was something about Maddie, he'd discerned; her being only catalyst to their newfound opinions and curiosity that fit the timeline. And he didn't like it.

Not just because Amelia would come down on him when she'd figure out how Maddie's arrival had shaken things up in their pocket of the metaphysical world. But because his students had never once questioned him, had always believed in him and his methods; had admired him, had been devoted to him; had been his. The bodies that's orbited his sun.

He'd been desperate to keep things in order. Had even pushed Field Day up several weeks to please them and help Maddie adjust. Except, it felt to him as though Maddie was stubbornly deflecting any and all efforts Everett made to guide her deeper into the afterlife where she belonged.

Or. Well.

Everett swallowed, tried to push that day out of his head. What had been done was done and there was nothing he could do about it but move forward and attempt to guide Maddie away from that fragile foothold she still had in the living world.

Difficult, to be sure, since Maddie hadn't been a spirit he'd been instructed to break, one he whispered despondencies to through the veil. While her mother had taken care of snapping her spirit in two, Maddie wasn't one of them the way Everett's other students were. Regardless, he needed to do it.

All his hard work, his dreams and desires, all of it would be taken away if he didn't get Maddie on side.

Amelia had been livid when she'd discovered Maddie had been prematurely thrust into the metaphysical world. Not that she'd shared why, but Everett could tell her reason was detrimental to his being allowed to maintain his position.

He regarded Charley again, then panned to Maddie and Wally on the field, sat against the goal post, talking. The more she interacted with his students, the more they changed, behaving like he hadn't taken care of them all since their deaths.

Everett wouldn't stand for it.

He came back to the present when Katelynn said his name, her tone indicating it wasn't the first time she'd tried to get his attention. He apologized and asked politely for her to repeat, listening with half an ear as he nodded along: Yes, Wally should have a cake; yes, we can certainly bake one in time; no, the crown of sparklers is still vetoed.

In his mind, however, he was developing a plan to steer everyone back under the right influence. He needed to correct their course. He needed to figure out what was going on with Charley and Wally and Maddie.

He needed to talk to Rhonda.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Sloped against the side of his truck, Xavier scrolled restlessly through his phone while he waited for you to show up. If you'd show up. You hadn't texted back and it was already 6:03PM. He was steadily losing faith that things between you and him could be repaired. Fuck. He needed you. He needed his best friend. He needed time to back the hell up so he could undo every mistake he'd made so you'd be there for him like he desperately needed you to be.

He shoved his phone into his pocket and sighed, mentally preparing to break into a deserted house, play hide and seek with whoever had stolen Maddie's backpack, and persuade them to tell Xavier where Maddie's body was stashed. Alone. Jesus Christ. As he straightened, squared his shoulders and took a step forward, he caught movement in the corner of his eye.

Down the street, at the corner, in the pool of lamplight, you stood, gaze doubtful as you stared at Xavier. You were dressed in conventional breaking-and-entering black. A jumper dress and tights, turtleneck that definitely wasn't yours, and combat boots. Totally committed to the part. His heart lurched. God. He couldn't believe you were there. You'd come. You'd shown up for him like you always had. No questions asked. Even after a week of radio silence and cold shoulders and outrage.

That red thread between you and him glowed brighter.

Xavier felt a pressure behind his eyes as he stared back at you, positioning himself to face you fully, arms outstretched, ready to catch you when you began to sprint toward him. You and he collided, his arms closed around your waist and his face buried in your throat, shaking from the force of his emotions.

"You came," He whispered against your skin, breathing in the comforting scent of your shampoo and the DIY detergent your mother preferred.

"Always, Zav," You soothed, arms slung around his shoulders.

His body shook as he hugged you, his immense relief opening the floodgates to everything he'd been holding on to all week.

"I can't do this without you," He professed, voice tight as a rubber band about to snap. And that encompassed so many truths.

He couldn't laugh or breathe or live if he lost you. You and he had been through too many losses, changes, heartbreaks, wins together. There was no world in which Xavier could sustainably exist if you weren't in it with him. "I love you," and it wasn't new. You and he had shared the sentiment plenty of times, but it still carried weight.

"I love you, too," You replied, slightly turning your head inward as you pulled back.

Xavier happened to simultaneously shift his face toward yours, accidental, a reaction to your movement, and then, time slowed. The world retreated. His breath left him in a shaky gasp. One of his hands instinctually moved to your cheek, fingers barely tracing a bruise he wanted to know the origins of. He felt your breath tickle his skin, the atmosphere suddenly intimate and warm. Parted lips gently, so very, very gently, brushed yours. He heard you inhale and that was all it took for impulse to take over.

His lips crashed against yours, one arm tight around you, the hand of the other splayed on your cheek, thumb pressed close to the corner of your mouth. Sweet liquid heat curled low in his belly and he released a low sigh of pleasure. He'd never imagined this, had never entertained the idea nor held space for it, yet, in that moment, he couldn't recall quite why. It felt so good.

The kiss couldn't have lasted more than a second before he felt you break away, your fingertips replacing your lips as you shook your head. Your eyes were somehow both caring and regretful, filled with a love that Xavier had to acknowledge wasn't the kind that invoked the sort of insatiable desire he craved. It was milder, sweeter; affection in lieu of attraction, and he immediately cooled.

He didn't jump back or hate himself and the world. There was no pang of rejection. Just plain, honest understanding. Xavier lowered his hand and loosened his grip on you, a tiny smile of acceptance.

"Sorry," You lamented, but Xavier insisted it was fine. Because it was. Like, actually was and not in the way that people insisted when they were anything but.

"Thanks for coming," He said, easing a breadth of space between you and him.

You rolled your eyes, "Like I'd let you go into a freaky abandoned house where a possible body snatcher may be lurking all by yourself." And then you snickered, "I didn't wanna miss you screaming like a girl when the floor creaks."

"Ha-ha," Xavier sneered waggishly, "You're such a good friend."

"I know." You grinned. As Xavier took the lead, he heard you ask, "Why'd you do it?"

He didn't need you to elaborate, that telepathy bred from a lifetime of familiarity doing the heavy lifting.

He admitted, "I don't know." When you didn't say anything, Xavier expounded, "I mean it, I have no idea why I even started things with Claire, not to mention why I let it go on." He glanced back at you, taking his phone from his pocket and turning on the flashlight before climbing the front steps. "It felt like I was in a fugue that I only came out of when Maddie went missing." Another glance back at you, this time with the caveat, "Don't tell me to apologize to her yet, I'm not ready to talk to my dead ex-girlfriend."

You stilled, eyes widening in horror, your hand clamping around Xavier's wrist. He turned to face you, looked at you in confusion.

"Zav," You murmured, stepping closer, "Maddie isn't dead."

Xavier was certain he was dreaming. Because you couldn't actually be saying what he'd heard you say. How was that possible?

You must've seen something in his expression since your grip slipped from his wrist to take his hand. Comforting and present.

"She was forced out of her body somehow, but Maddie isn't dead."

"Is-is that possible?" He croaked, chest rising and falling too quickly.

You nodded, "Yeah. It's possible. It mostly happens to people in a coma. Their ghosts wake up, but their bodies stay asleep."

"Maddie's in a coma?" Xavier felt a strange combination of relief and fear and total confusion. "Who...how?"

"That's what we're trying to find out." You said, solemn. "I have a lot to tell you."

He couldn't stop it even if he tried. Xavier laughed. Not cruel or even humorous. Just pure, unadulterated shock. He'd been avoiding you and Maddie and everything that'd unfolded in the theater for a week. Seesawing between bitter regret and grief and sadness, thinking that if he hadn't been with Claire, he might've been able to save Maddie.

"I can see things," He blurted once he'd calmed down. "Weird things. Lines in different colors from one person to another. Like...ours is red."

You gaped, glanced down as if to try and see what he saw. "When the hell did that start?"

"Right after the theater," Xavier informed. "Yeah," He chuckled when you looked back at him, astonished, "I know. I can see ghosts and how people are connected. I'm starting to figure out what the colors mean."

"Holy shit, Zav, you're a Reader."

"Oh," He responded blithely, "It has a name. Cool." And then, "Is that what you are?"

"No, I'm a, uh, Traveler."

Xavier peered at you, "What does that mean?"

You cleared your throat, "That I can astral project."

It was Xavier's turn to gape, awestruck. "That's a real thing!?"

A grimace, "Ginny can do it, too."

What the fuck else was your family capable of? Xavier wondered, questions puddling in his head. So fast and dense that he wasn't sure he could keep up.

"Yeah, you definitely need to catch me up, please." He wheezed, still wide-eyed and freaking out.

"Does that mean you're done avoiding everyone?" You grinned, that sparkle of mischief in your eyes as you squeezed his hand.

Speechless, Xavier nodded.

"Good. Now, how about we try and find out what's in here and if it'll help bring Maddie back." You said with finality, moving everything right along as though you hadn't just blown Xavier's mind.

Xavier tested the handle on the front door, grateful when it gave without resistance. Whoever was using the place must have decided it was easier to leave the door unlocked than slip back inside through a window whenever they left. Faster and less conspicuous, certainly. He entered first, held a hand up to signal for you to wait while he sussed out whether it was safe or not.

In the meantime, apropos of nothing, you inquired, "You didn't by any chance drink a lot of bad smelling tea while you were cheating on Maddie with Claire, did you?"

The question stunned Xavier's for a moment. It sounded completely ridiculous. Either way, "Tea? No. When have you ever seen me drink tea?"

"Whenever you get a cold and Nanna insists on nursing you back to health."

"I think we both know that doesn't count." Xavier stated, treading slowly and carefully down the hall, which, okay, he was starting to think the whole stealth operation thing wasn't necessary if you and he were going to talk at a conversational volume anyway.

"When you went through your Jimi Hendrix phase and drank a bajillion cups of apple cinnamon black tea with—"

"—milk and two sugars, yeah, okay, I get it. The answer is still no. I didn't become acutely British one night and then fuck Claire."

"Ew."

"You asked."

You took to the other side of what would've been the living room to look for clues, "Still. Ew."

Someone was definitely living there. Though the house smelt overall stale and mildewy, the place was tidy apart from the scattering of old mail. There was what constituted as a bed—blankets and pillows thrown over forgotten couch cushions—and boxes and crates had been arranged like furniture.

When you suggested splitting up, Xavier vigorously quashed the idea, taking your hand just to keep you from wandering off out of spite.

"Is it because I'm a woman?" You griped.

Xavier raised his eyebrows at you, asserting, "No. It's because you have a bruise on your cheek and I don't know if you got it from walking into a door or into someone's fist. Which, please tell me it's the former so I don't have to beat the shit out of someone."

Sheepish, you chuckled, "Technically the former. I projected out of my body to make it look like I fainted. I needed to get out of math class."

About to open another door, Xavier stalled, "Right. Because you can do that." He said, monotone, nearly dropping his phone. It was going to take some time for him to fully digest that that was a, "Totally normal thing that happens now."

You tugged his hand, made him look at you when you said, "Zav, I know I don't have to tell you this, but I'm going to anyway—"

"Don't tell anyone?" He finished for you, eyebrow raised, "Don't worry, I wasn't planning on looping anyone else in on this. At least, no one who doesn't already know." Like Simon Elroy, who still look at Xavier like gum under his shoe. "Does your family know?"

"Nope. I never told them."

"Why not?"

You hesitated. Xavier could tell it was more to choose your words than because you didn't want to explain.

Eventually, "I found out when Aiden died. I wasn't able to do it before that. I wanted to tell my mom, but she was a mess after, and Ginny and Nanna were busy taking care of her and me, and it just...the more time passed the less I wanted to talk about it." A pause thick with memory. "When mom was actually getting back out into the world, it felt kinda wrong to bring up anything to do with that day, you know? I didn't want to trigger her and make her backslide into depression again. So, I pretended the ability didn't exist."

Xavier regarded you with sympathetic eyes, "Thanks for telling me."

Ignoring the part where knock-off Patrick Swayze and his Ghost Gang also knew, Xavier felt like you'd let him in again, that you trusted him to carry your secrets with you, and he didn't want to take it for granted.

Just then, he heard creaks from the back of the house. "Stay here, don't move," he commanded and advanced to the back room. Opened the door. Stepped inside. Caught a shadow at the window that propelled him forward.

"Hey!" He called, racing to the window. The jump might not have been too high to be safe, but his fear of heights caught up with him in one fell swoop, knocking him back a few steps as his head spun.

He lurched back to the window once the spots had cleared from his vision only to watch the intruder disappear behind another house.

He smacked the wall, "Fuck!" feeling like he'd failed. He wanted to be better. To help Maddie. To be forgiven. But he couldn't even get over a barely-dangerous drop.

"Zav, did you find them?!" You moved swiftly into the room and to the window.

Xavier raked his fingers through his hair in frustration, "Yeah, but they took off."

Before he managed to get his apology out, he found himself bundled in a tight hug, your voice insisting, "Never do that again, you giant idiot! They could've been dangerous! This is America, Xavier, stray cats have guns!"

And, oh, yeah, he hadn't even considered that. Returning the hug, he smirked, "At least I know I could haunt the shit out of you for the rest of your life."

Scowling at him, "Let's look around and see if we can find anything useful," you suggested. "And then I need you to drive me to the stadium. I have a sexy football star to ask to the dance."

Xavier slung your earlier statement back at you, "Ew."

"Shut up, you're the cheating manwhore."

"Still. Ew."

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Wally waited outside the locker rooms for you, geared up and ready to go. His blood was pumping, adrenaline coursing through his veins. Tonight was his night. He was going to make his mama proud.

Less than five minutes later, he saw you turn the corner and scurry to him, grabbing his hand on your way by to pull him into a secluded area inside a door to the stairwell. The connection between you and him roared to life and he followed its call, crowding you against the wall and kissing you senseless.

When you and he parted for air, he gazed down at you, heated and hungry, "Hey, pretty girl."

Slightly dazed, you smiled back, "Hey yourself." With a hand to his chest, you pushed him back a step, your other hand hidden behind your back. "I have something for you."

He raised a brow in intrigue, broad grin on his face, "Oh yeah?" He tried to shift closer, but the look you gave him forced his feet still. "What is it?"

Slowly, you brought your hand out from behind your back and presented him with a clear plastic container. He took it, examined what was inside briefly before snapping his head up.

"Wally Clark, will you go to the Homecoming dance with me?" You proposed, giving him big, gorgeous smile all for him.

He glanced down at the boutonniere again and then up to you, his heart quickening for a reason entirely separate to the excitement of tonight's events. His soul soared. He'd never been asked.

Okay, back when he'd been alive, it wasn't exactly customary for the girl to ask the guy, and he had asked his then-girlfriend, Jenny McKinnon, to the dance. Had promptly died under the enormous bulk of an Outlaws linebacker. Had thereafter attended stag in the company of his fellow ghosts, most of whom hadn't been enthusiastic about dressing up and dancing to cheesy music.

But...here you were. Beautiful marbled eyes gazing up at him. How were you real?

'Yes' wasn't going to cut it. Wally wanted—needed—you to know how much it meant to him that you'd asked. How elated he was, how thoroughly in fucking love with you he was.

And, holy shit, he was, wasn't he? He loved you.

A joyous laugh bubbled out from his chest and he closed the distance between you, hovering over your frame that seemed so small in comparison to his. In measured increments, he bowed his head, free hand smoothing down your waist to your hip, and he grazed his lips against yours. A lingering tease. A caught breath. Before he pressed in firmly and gave you his answer.

He heard you whimper, the sound making his head spin, and he felt your fingers at the nape of his neck, tickling the short hairs there, sending frissons of desire to his core. When you pulled away, biting your lip, gaze caught on his mouth—fuck, he had to close his eyes just to maintain some semblance of self-control.

"Is that a yes?" You asked, voice sultry and low.

Wally grinned. Unequivocally, wholeheartedly, utterly, "Yes."

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

At halftime, Xavier humbly handed out the fliers Sandra had printed off. He hated himself a little bit for it since he could see Maddie sitting at a table with your dead boyfriend (as Simon referred to him as), having what appeared to be a deep and meaningful conversation over soggy hot dogs. Xavier felt a twinge of jealousy watching them interact over food Xavier was so sure Maddie couldn't stand to be in the same vicinity as.

Yes, he was honestly so fucking thankful to the universe at large that Maddie wasn't actually dead. And he didn't deserve her acknowledgement never mind her friendship, but it sucked. He wanted to go up to her, to tell her he was going to do everything in his power to help her get her body back. He wanted to express to her how deeply sorry he was for what he'd done with Claire.

But he didn't. Frozen in place by the reminder of what he'd seen in the theater.

The thread between Maddie and Wally was a vibrant orange. The one between Xavier and Maddie was green. Distant. Barely above strangers. He vaguely wondered what it'd been before.

He thanked a stranger for taking a flier and tried to think about something else. Something that wasn't Maddie related. Which. Good plan, Baxter, as he handed out fliers with Maddie's face plastered on them. Resetting with a breath, Xavier continued to do what he'd told Sandra he would do: Help. Even if the guilt would choke him.

Xavier glanced at the table again, watching Maddie and Wally laugh and talk and eat. Since ghosts ate apparently. Like people. With heartbeats and working digestive systems. Did ghosts need to eat? Did ghosts use the bathroom?

"What're you doing?" Simon's voice jolted Xavier back to earth.

Xavier ticked his gaze to Simon, suffering for what to say. "Nothing," was a shit answer, and he could tell Simon didn't believe it, but there it was.

"You've been staring at them for five minutes." Simon informed, unimpressed. "Did your humanity finally come back online and now you're feeling guilty?"

Xavier clenched his jaw, "You don't have to be such a dick all the time, you know. I'm here. I'm trying to help."

"Yeah," Simon scoffed, "I bet. As if your conscience isn't the reason you've been at Sandra's beck and call all week. Did you tell her you went behind Maddie's back and broke her heart?"

"Actually, yeah, I did." Xavier stared Simon in the eye, "We covered that in our first conversation."

Simon seemed shocked to hear that, gaping for a beat before covering it up with a stony cast. "It learned how to be honest. I'm impressed. Maybe you will become a real boy after all."

"Fuck you," Xavier snapped, giving Simon his back so he could focus on emptying his stack of fliers.

He didn't hear anything for long enough that he assumed Simon had walked away, but, to his complete surprise, "Are you guys talking again?" Xavier pitched Simon an inquisitive glance. "You know what I'm talking about," Simon said, referring to you. "For some reason she actually considers you a friend. And I consider her a friend. So, I wanna know. Have you apologized to her yet?"

Sucking in a deep breath, Xavier opted to take the olive branch Simon was offering, as thorny and shriveled as it was. "Yeah, we're good." Remembering the kiss (his kiss, he rectified, taking responsibility for his actions), he slipped another peek at Wally. Too bad for him, Simon was perceptive.

"It's weird, right? Dating a dead guy."

"If she's happy, I'm happy." Xavier said sincerely.

"Great. So why do you keep looking at Wally like he's your middle school bully come back to haunt you." Simon viscerally thought about what he'd said, "Is that a pun?"

Xavier snorted, "I don't think so." And then, bravely, stupidly, wanting to impart an olive branch of his own, he disclosed, "I kissed her."

The air was quiet. Nothing. No comeback, no quip, no insults. Nada. Xavier turned to Simon only to find him trembling with suppressed laughter, back of his wrist over his mouth.

Finally, "Oooh~ ho-ho, her dead boyfriend is so going to kill you." Simon glanced at Wally and then back at Xavier, "Please don't let it happen when I'm not around, I wanna be there."

"You're such an asshole." Xavier said, practically shoving a flier at a passerby.

"Me? You're the one who apparently doesn't learn to keep your hands off things you can't have." Then, after a moment of reflection, "You know, I'm surprised she let you," Simon mused.

"She didn't. She stopped it."

"That's my girl."

Darkly, "She's not your anything," Xavier let him know.

Simon shrugged, casual and delighted, "Doesn't matter. She's definitely his," He nodded to Wally, "And he's going to break you in half."

Xavier swallowed, sizing Wally up and internally agreeing with Simon that, yep, that guy could definitely beat the crap out of Xavier if he wanted to.

"But he can't." Xavier said, more a prayer than a statement. "He can't touch me. Right, Simon?" Simon didn't respond. "Simon? He can't touch me, right?" Xavier spun around and saw Simon heading back to the bin of fliers a thin yellow thread flickering to life between he and Xavier, "Simon!?"

Simon threw his head back and crowed.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

You'd had to field questions about your fainting spell in Mr. Davis' class, had to bear Mathilda dragging you into the bathroom to smear concealer and foundation over the bruise as she'd worked herself into a tizzy, "Mob Wife is in, anyway, but oh my God, queen, could you not?" But, overall, the game had been an enjoyable experience despite how you retained you disliked all things sports.

You said goodbye to your friends after the game, everyone, including yourself, in high spirits although the Bandits lost. It'd been a narrow victory for the Cyclones and Hana, whose boyfriend, Theo, was on the team, was delirious with pride, rubbing it in everyone's faces.

"You're such a traitor," Eli grumbled, sulking beneath the layer of blue paint on his face.

Wally was easy to find, propped against the wall near the exit, one foot up, hands in his pockets, already staring at you with soulful eyes and a soft smile. Your belly clenched under his obvious appraisal, butterflies swarming inside you.

The crowd was distracted and dense enough that you threw caution to the wind and tucked yourself against him when you reached him. You felt him tense, but it wasn't even a second before you felt his arms wrap around you and his nose in your hair. His chest rose and fell as he breathed in your scent.

"Did you have fun, pretty girl?" He asked.

His tone was oddly serene for someone who'd been vibrating out of his skin earlier. He didn't sound exhausted or depressed or anything else you'd expect from someone who'd, a) seen their mother for the first time in a year, aged into her late seventies, not the woman she'd been when she'd raised him. And, b) had watched the game that'd killed him on the anniversary thereof.

Rather, he sounded...at peace, if a little apprehensive around the edges.

You peeked up at him as you soaked in the heat of his body like a greedy sponge, "You okay?"

Again, that soft smile, tinged very faintly by nerves. Maybe because you were being too forward with your connectedness in public? You studied him and determined that, no, that wasn't it. He wasn't acting paranoid or even looking at the crowd around you and him. His eyes were fixed on you. Fond. Reverent.

He licked his lips nervously and murmured, "I need to tell you something." You nodded, straightening to show he had your undivided attention. "But I'm scared it'll change the way you look at me."

Without hesitation, "Impossible," you said.

Wally's muscles rippled as he shifted, clearly deliberating how to put what he wanted to tell you into words. His heart hammered beneath your palm and he licked his lips again, biting the corner of his bottom lip, but eventually he confessed, "I don't actually like football."

He tensed under your touch, gaze searching yours, waiting with baited breath for you to respond. It was your astonishment that kept you from doing so right away. Not astonishment for what he said, but how he said it. Like it'd been a burden he'd been carrying for too long that was had finally lifted.

You tilted your head and an unhurried smile curved your mouth. Inside, you were overjoyed that Wally had shared something that was clearly so personal, so vulnerable, with you.

"Me neither." You said and you felt the tension bleed out of him, the smile that spread on his face making your knees weak. He pressed his forehead to yours, eyes closed, and you and he basked in each other's closeness. Content just to hold each other. To exist like that for awhile.

You and Wally stayed there for as long as you could before he couldn't put off joining the others anymore. You and he parted with a kiss after he walked you back into the school. By then, the building was empty aside from a handful of stragglers. Which was why you were caught off-guard to notice someone walking across the hallway junction, b-lining it for the basement door.

Suspicious, you hastened your pace, turning the corner and following at a decent distance to avoid being detected. What the fuck is he doing here? You questioned, because Ken Doll Dave had shown about as much interest in sports as anyone in your family. That is to say none.

He should be at home with your sister, pressing his chinos or plucking his eyebrows or sitting like a good boy Rover waiting for your sister to whistle.

Yeah, you hated Dave. But, in your defense, he made it so. easy.

Apart from being somewhere he shouldn't, Dave was also uncharacteristically clothed in sweatpants and an oversized hoodie that—wait a minute—resembled articles you Andrew had brought with him when he'd returned.

The night you'd been at the school after midnight crept back into your mind, the image of Dave emerging from behind the tree with the symbol on it like he'd been searching the woods.

It'd been strange then and felt eerie now. He'd never said what had compelled him into the pocket of trees behind the school. Everyone in your family knew that if you were having a shit day and you didn't want to be found, you'd hide in Xavier's old treehouse. Predictable.

Whatever. Everyone respected it and never forced you out. And if you'd run away from home in the middle of the night, why hadn't anyone called Austin? Or Xavier? Or Mathilda?

No one had even mentioned that you'd snuck out. Not your mother, not Nanna, not Ginny, not light-sleeper Aurora who slept beside Dave every night.

You caught the basement door before it swung closed completely, evading the shatter it would've been sure to make, and slipped through the narrow opening.

Your heart was pounding, palms clammy, any and every sound louder than normal as you followed Dave. When you reached the bottom of the stairs, you looked up and down the narrow corridor. To the right, Mr. South's office was open and you heard the tinny sound of a video playing: "—of body experiences can happen to anyone, but possession is different—"

You went left. Up ahead, a door was open. You heard voices as you approached. Male and female, too muffled to place who they belonged to. Mentally preparing to confront your AI Generated brother-in-law, you moved furtively toward the door, around it, down a set of bare metal stairs. Once close to the bottom, you were able to identify the voices as belonging to Simon and Maddie.

"What're you guys doing?" You asked them when you entered the subbasement area and strode further into the room. Casting about, you realized it wasn't just another storage space. It was a full-on, military-grade, nuclear bunker like one would see in the movies, complete with a decades-old stockpile of tinned food, a pristinely made cot, and a system of outdated machinery. "Whaaat the hell is this?"

"Mr. South said it's been here since the Cold War." Simon told you, "That it hasn't been used in decades."

"And he just let you in here?" You ran your fingers across the dusty machinery, spun around slowly to take as much as you could in.

Simon gave you a boyish smile, "He likes me."

Before you could snark back, "Where do you think that goes?" Maddie brought your attention to a panel in the wall.

You felt the slight draft as you neared it, standing beside Simon when he said, "No idea, but," he pushed the panel open along the pair of rails set into the wall, "I'm guessing this is how Claire dragged your body out of here."

The dust on the floor beneath the mouth of the tunnel had been disturbed, supporting the theory about Claire, and while you'd been reluctant to fully jump on the Claire is a teenage murderer bandwagon, you couldn't refute the physical evidence.

You bent down, inspected the floor beside Simon's shoe, and came back up with something between your thumb and forefinger.

Shuddering, you showed Simon and Maddie, "I think you might be right, Si." You glanced at Maddie's hand, your face going pale as you compared what you'd found to what you were looking at.

Simon didn't gloat, too disturbed by the sight of the bloody fingernail between your fingers.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Deep inside the tunnel, Janet crawled back toward the exit, sleeves of her hoodie pulled down over her hands to avoid potentially losing another nail. That'd been close. Too close. She'd barely sealed the panel before those two interlopers had entered the fallout shelter.

After her hideout had been discovered, she'd meant to sneak into the school undetected and stay the night in one of the many secret spaces she'd used for privacy as a ghost.

But she'd seen that man again. The one from the woods.

As she pushed open the gate at the other end of the tunnel, the muscles in her arm protested, pained and stiff. She groaned, rolling onto the ground below, tripping and scraping her palm on the gravel.

"Shit!"

Time was running out, she needed to get that book and she needed it now. But the walls were closing in around her. She had nowhere to hide. Nowhere to go to finish what she'd started. Gathering what little strength she had, she pushed herself up and turned back in the direction of Riverden Heights.

Hopefully there was another abandoned home she could break into.

Damn it.

Reluctantly, she knew it was time to admit that she had to be realistic.

Janet needed to cut and run.

💀___________________________

PART ONE - PART THREE

also available on AO3!

MASTERLIST

[selene-moonie]

AOT: Faith in the 'Cause' and Social vs Inherent Value

NOTE: SPOILERS for the entire series. Also, I'm not saying anyone is right or wrong here. I only hate the shitty parents. Each character worked within the worldview they were raised with, and each of their decisions matter in the story.

Let's get a few definitions out of the way to start:

The 'Cause' - whatever you believe in that's bigger than you. Saving your country, ending the titans, getting a better life.

Social Value - when your worth comes from your ability to support others or your accomplishments.

Inherent Value - the idea that everyone has individual value regardless of their social accomplishments.

There are a few different types of parents. Some raised their kids to believe in a 'cause', others didn't, and some originally believed in a cause and then started valuing their kids as individuals.

Let's start with one of the original villains - Grisha Yeager. He raised his first son to believe in the 'cause' and valued him mainly for his ability to progress this cause. He will be written into history as a monster, like his brother, but it started when Grisha and Dina removed his humanity.

Zeke valued himself so little that he got his parents killed, endured years of spinal injections (and essentially became a male brood mother which is horrifying), had no close relationships other than the one with his mentor, and died for his sins right after he finally started smelling the roses. That is a fucking tragedy if I've ever read one.

His brother didn't get it any better either. Eren grew up with more love, and less of a cause than Zeke, but Eren picked up his own cause and inadvertently copied his dad. Eren's mom is a black haired woman, and Eren kept everything secret from his loved ones till it was too late. He's also dead because he valued himself more for what he could do for his friends than actually living his life.

Which is a shame because Mikasa deserved better than beheading the man she loved. I know Eren couldn't end the cycle of violence himself, he could only save the people loved, but it sucks that he had to die to do that.

I do want to say here that the parents who pushed their kids to further the cause are the ones aware of the reality of the world, like the fact that there's a war, the discrimination against the Eldians, etc. The parents who raised their kids not to believe in a cause, but instead valued them as individuals are the parents unaware of these things.

That doesn't mean they lack awareness of their immediate reality, as in the case of Artur Braus, Sasha's father. He straight up told her she could hide out in the forest and choose to not adapt, but he would change his family traditions to cope with the changing world. Her response was to rebel by joining the military but Sasha eventually came into her own and was one of the best members of the Scouts.

I think of how Sasha and her dad were key players in making sure another Eren wasn't created in Gabi. Her entire character arc was her learning that the Paradis Eldians were people just like her. The kindness, courage, and fighting skills that Sasha brought to the table years prior paid off in Gabi's interactions with her family, which is eventually what changed her mind. I just love seeing the cycle of violence end.

Jean is another one who was brought up with inherent value. He was self-absorbed and self-interested, but also ended up having one of the biggest character changes throughout the story. Jean quickly realised that his skills weren't as useful inside the walls as outside. He also chose not to kill a child soldier, in addition to saving Reiner, despite everything Reiner had done. He was one of the pettier characters, yet he grew into a really responsible man who chose to do better than continuing the cycle of violence as well.

Now the third type of parent is the one who originally valued their children for their social value, but eventually came to love them for their inherent value. These include Karina Braun and Leonhart. Karina straight up used her son to get a leg up in their society, and Leonhart adopted Annie for that purpose which is wild to me. I'm not sure how, or why they started loving their kids after they'd gotten them into the war criminal stuff, but hey, their kids eventually started making decisions that aligned with their true identities. Annie just wanted to go back home, and even though Reiner developed borderline personality disorder and suicidal ideation, he turned out ok as well.

I do wanna talk for a sec about the fact that the ones who were valued socially engaged in the most self-sacrificial behavior. Eren was in love with Mikasa since day zero or something, but he never told her. His relationships were strained and eternally kept at arm's length for his cause. Zeke didn't even have close friends, and Pieck apparently always knew he was a liar.

Meanwhile, the ones who saw inherent value in themselves ended up being the most well-adjusted of all the kids. They were also the ones to reach out and bridge the gaps between the Eldians in the end. Sasha probably never went a day wondering if her best friends loved her, and even though Niccolo hadn't proposed, she probably fantasized about marrying him as well. She lived fully, though she became a casualty of war. I don't think the ones with the causes got to do that.

The kids who eventually learned to value themselves as individuals (Rei, Annie, and Historia) had to assimilate their shadow selves, and they also learned to live life for themselves.

Each of these kids' parents had an active role in the decisions they made and how they valued themselves. The ones who were valued socially died alone and sad, while the ones who did die but were valued inherently had happier relationships. And the others just had to find ways to deal with the shadows they had collected along the way.

[readychilledwine]

For Richer or Poor

Summary - Rhiannon and Rhys struggle with finding each other the perfect solstice gift

Warnings - smut, angst, virginity loss

A/n- this started as angst and fluff and kind of took on a mind of its own.. I apologize for the delay on getting it posted. Miss Sophia has had a mind of her own the past couple days so I've been a little busy forgetting to queue things ❤️ baby daddy's scheduling is now back in place, though.

Peep Requiem for a Dream here

“I don't understand why you are putting so much pressure on one gift,” Azriel stroked Rhiannon's back as she cried. “Rhys loves you, not any materialistic thing you could buy him.” Rhiannon broke down again, back shaking with each heavy sob.

That was the issue. She could not buy him anything. When her father had thrown her to Azriel's feet and abandoned her with her older Brother, he had left her with nothing but the clothing on her bloodied back.

She had no money.

No title.

Nothing she could gift Rhysand for their first Solstice together.

She couldn't even bake him anything nor cook him a dinner. Not unless the two young fae wanted to undergo a Mating Ceremony.

She had little to offer him while he gave her the world. Constsntly showering Her in gifts from Velaris and any court his father would force him to visit.

From teas and treats to lavish clothing, Rhiannon had it all, but she never had the ability to pay it back.

Rhys and his mother walked the Palace of Thread and Jewels. He was carrying the many bags she had accumulated as she shopped for him, Cassian, Azriel, his sister, and now Rhiannon.

Rhys was struggling with gifts for the latter. He had spoiled Rhiannon so much over the past year, and he was lost in what to get the female he'd hand the world.

“What about just something simple? A necklace? A bracelette?” His mother wrapped a Hand around his bicep. “She enjoys blankets. Perhaps a soft new blanket.”

Rhys stared straight ahead. “Nothing says I love you and want to spend the rest of my days with you like a shitty last minute blanket, mother.” He sighed, knowing what he wanted to do, but knowing his father would have his head.

He allowed his mom to pull him into the finest jeweler in the market. “Just do it, Rhysand. We will hide it until we can't anymore.”

Rhys held Rhiannon tight that night. Refusing to let Her go near the small tree his mother was placing presents under. They had been friends for 4 years now, knew they were mates for one year, and had spent that year courting. They had done nothing more but laid in his bed together, kissing and her hands slightly exploring at times while his roamed every inch of her frame like he was making a map.

He had never pushed her into sex, never asked for more than just her love and kisses, but he knew that small box under the tree would change everything. She had wanted to wait for marriage, a tradition drilled into her head through years of beatings from her step mother and Father.

And now, in just 12 short hours, after his Mother, Azriel, and Cassian left for the party being thrown in the Mead Hall, Rhysand would be asking her for her hand.

He placed a few soft kisses along her neck, smiling as she snuggled in closer to him with a small twitch of her lips. Just a few more hours, he told himself.

Solstice morning was filled with laughter and joy. The males having partook in yet another snowball fight as Rhiannon spent the morning in the kitchen helping with what little she could without triggering a mating frenzy.

She, Azriel, and Cassian had exchanged their homemade gifts without the presence of the High Lord's family, the three of them tucked into the boy's room as they exchanged homemade treats. They all couldn't afford much, so these small things had become their tradition. Something they could gather ingredients and supplies for a fairly cheap and make with love and effort.

They did the same for Rhysand's family, showing their gratitude for his mother's choice to pull the three of them into their home. Azriel and Cassian traded gifts with Rhysand while Rhiannon had to wait.

Anxiousness Had set into the pit of her stomach as she got dressed this morning. Rhysand's mother had taken gentle care, braiding her long dark hair, making sure her nails were trimmed and clean, that her hands were oiled and moisturized.

She had ensured Rhiannon had been gifted a fine set of oils and lotions along with a pretty lacy outfit she had hand made for “when the time felt right.”

The evening came quickly, prompting Cassian, Azriel, and Rhysand's mother to leave the cabin, heading to the Mead Hall for celebrations and leaving the two mates completely alone.

Rhys had her between his legs, Tucked into his chest tight and placing small kisses along her temple and hairline. “I'm sorry I'm keeping you away from the camp party,” Rhys tilted her head up. “I just wanted time alone with you.”

Rhiannon smiled softly. “If you think I'd rather spend a single moment in that hall with those males, you truly underestimate my love for you.”

“I thought we could talk about that,” Rhysand began softly. “About love and us.” Rhys sat her up, hiding the small black box behind him. “You know I love you, right?”

The falling look on her face had Rhysand back pedaling Watching in horror as she moved away from him and sat down in the opposite couch.

He moved to her instantly, grabbing her soft small hands. “I already fucked that up,” he muttered taking a deep breath. “What I mean is, I do love you, and I hope I have made that clear and obvious.”

He took a deep breath, pausing to kiss her left hand. “I have loved you long before the Bond snapped, and I would love you regardless of it being in place. From the moment Azriel carried you in the doorway begging mother for help, I felt drawn to you.”

Another long pause came as he kissed each knuckle on her hand. “I knew I loved you the moment you took down a male, not knowing he was one of Devlon's bastard Sons and beat the shit out of him for grabbing you. I knew I loved you when I pulled you off of him and went back to fight. I knew I loved you as you sat holding Ice to your lip getting lectured by mother and simply said, “let the camp lord know I'll do it again.” I knew I loved you because of your spark, your fight.”

Rhiannon looked away, hiding her amusement. “So you knew You loved me when it turned out I was violent.”

“You are a violent, murderous, little creature,” Rhysand purred softly, trying to hide the lust in his tone. “And I stupidly love every single ounce of it. I love your eyes when you see something that makes you happy. I love how you pout when I don't give you whatever you want-”

“I do not pout,” Rhys smirked at her, thumb going to her pouty bottom lip.

“Oh yes you do, Darling.” He kissed her gently. “I want to spend my life with you. Learning all the other things I can love. Growing to love the things I already do more.”

Before Rhiannon could respond and process what was happening, Rhys was on one knee before her, an open ring box in hand. “It would be a long engagement, Rhiannon Darling, but will you marry me?”

All she could do was nod, crying as she threw herself Into his arms, holding him tight. “I presume that is a yes?”

Rhiannon nodded before pulling him to her and kissing him deeply. It did not take long for that kiss to become more passionate. Rhys was on top of her in an instant, resting between her legs as they wrapped around his waist, hairs tangling into her long dark hair.

Her own hands found the buttons of his shirt, undoing them quickly and pushing it down his shoulders. Once the material was no longer there, Rhiannon began to run her hands over every exposed piece of skin. Nails and fingertips gently brushing some areas while other areas were squeezed.

The second those legs, those damned legs, wrapped around his waist, Rhys knew her intentions. He pulled apart from her, almost chuckled as she whined softly, “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” her voice was breathy as she tried to get him closer, nodding eagerly in confirmation.

Rhys got off the couch, lifting her With him as he did and carried her to her room. “I refuse to let your first time be on a couch instead of a bed,” he laid her down, smiling ferally as he did.

It was teasingly slow, removing her from her clothing, smiling as she laid Naked below him, dark hair spread out around her head like a halo. “So beautiful, darling.” Rhys placed soft kisses along her jawline, whispering to her as his fingers trailed every curve.

Her skin was on fire from every pass, every gentle caress, every touch she'd never experienced before. The second his tongue flicked Her nipple, a whine she'd never heard from herself tumbled from plush parted lips. “So sensitive,” Rhys muttered before licking and sucking her breast while his hand played with the other one. Once he was satisfied, he freed her nipple with a soft pop Before switching sides.

Rhiannons' back arched more cries falling from her lips as her hands tangled in his soft hair. “Please,” she whimpered, thighs clenching together as wetness and heat pooled between them. “Rhysand, please.”

He tutted her softly, mouth returning to hers. “You'll take what I give you, when I give it to you,” another harsher kiss had her whimpering. “Understood, darling?”

“Yes, husband,” the word spurred something primal in Rhysand. Eyes going dark with lust and need.

Since that bond had snapped, all he had wanted was to be hers, for her to be his in return, and now he was taking it. He was stealing this opportunity. Rhys kissed down her body again, growling when he finally hit her core. “So fucking pretty.”

He gave her no warning, diving into her cunt like a man starved. Rhiannon quickly became a mess of moans and cries. The foreign feeling he was bringing her was unmatched to anything she had made herself feel before.

She knew Rhysand was a talented lover, having laid in bed late at night hearing him with the few females he would bring home before they had gotten together, before the Bond snapped, but this was unimaginable.

It was messy. Tongue spreading and taking slick as he lapped at her entrance and clit.

It was hot. Sweat forming on both of their bodies as the room grew warmer and warmer, as panting took the place of stable breaths.

It was raw passion. Each lick, nudge, moan a measurement moment. Each tightening of her core, of her stomach twisting causing more drive as she pushed it down the bond to him.

It took minutes that felt like seconds for her to fall apart on his tongue, that coil snapping as she screamed his name and stars took place of her vision.

Rhys kissed her clit before moving back up her body, hand replacing his tongue and fingers running through her folds. “You taste divine,” his lips found hers, tongue going into her mouth to share his new favorite wine with her. “I could spend days between your beautiful thighs, Rhiannon.”

He was distracting her, praising Her with soft kisses and words. When he finally felt his finger was wet enough, he slowly pushed it in, watching her face as her breath hitched and eyes rolled back.

“Relax, little mate,” he whispered. “I have you.” He moved agonizingly slow, forehead resting On hers as her breathing picked up again. He smiled as her walls relaxed, Welcoming his finger deeper into her warmth. “There we go. Doing such a good job, darling.”

Rhiannon had her eyes locked shut, mouth opened to a soft o as she felt that coil begin to wind itself up again. She could feel Rhysand's eyes on her, his spare hand tracing her cheekbone As a second finger entered her, stretching her out more to prepare her for him.

Rhys seemed to be on a mission. His fingers were curling, scissoring, searching. It was obvious when he found what he was looking for. He watched as his mate took a deep breath, back arched again, and then a Loud moan of his name fell from swollen lips. He felt his stomach stirring with male pride as he Began to aim over and over for that same spot, feeling wave after wave of her arousal and pleasure shooting down the bond.

He had her pulled apart within seconds again. The pride of it all shot straight to his ego.

His beautiful little mate.

Folding for him Over and over again.

Rhys kissed her deeply, deciding she was ready and pulled his fingers out. “Last Chance to tell me to stop, Rhiannon.” Rhys' forehead found hers again, going into her mind to find any doubt. Instead he found love, contentment, need, lust. Her thoughts were clouded and occupied by him. His scent, his intelligence, his voice. His own clothes were long forgotten, slick soaked hand moving to coat himself before lining up with her. “Tell me it hurts and we stop.” She nodded, hands going to his biceps as her hazel eyes met his.

Rhys pushed in slowly, watching her like a hawk. Her nails dug into his arms, almost spurring him on As she whimpered softly underneath him. He stopped as she tensed up, gently stroking her hair, “You have to relax, baby. I don't want to hurt you.” Rhiannon, done with teasing and wanting this part over With, wrapped her legs Around his waist, forcing him in deeper with a gasp. Rhys growled, burying his head into her neck as his self control slowly began to disappear. He pushed in the rest of the way, groaning as her soft walls hugged him.

They sat like that for a few seconds, allowing her to relax further, to adapt to the intrusion. “Rhys, please,” she begged. “Gods please move.” He was lost in the haze of her, pulling out slowly before pushing back in and setting a soft rhythm. Their hands found each other, fingers lacing together as he made love to her, hitting that perfect spot every time he reentered her body. “I love you,” he whispered and smiled as she said it back.

“Faster,” she panted. Rhys felt his smile go feral. His speed picked up, watching as her breasts bounced. His free hand found her hip, squeezing the side of her ass as he took her.

Their joint pleasure was building quickly as they freely sent it to each other down the bond. Rhys could feel himself nearing that edge and brought his fingers to her clit. “Need you to cum, Rhi,” he almost begged her for it. His Fingers began to circle that bud, watching through heavy eyes as she began chanting his name over and over again, walls fluttering and clenching around him. “Need to feel you fall apart on my cock, little wife.”

That word.

That precious word.

The word that made this all okay in her mind was her undoing.

The idea of being his wife. His mate. His everything.

She shattered around him, crying for him and screaming his name as she came. She saw the heavens behind her eyes as she pulled him closer, mind lost in the feeling of him, the smell of him, the need for him.

Rhys tumbled over the edge seconds later, moaning her name loudly as did.

The room that had previously echoed with the sound of her slick, skin making contact, of their moans was now silent. Breathing the only thing indicating life was still there. Rhys pulled Out of her slowly, picking her up the second he was stable on his own feet and carrying her to the bathroom.

He bathed her as she slept in his arms, his own mind still processing that this had finally happened.

She woke up the next morning, ring on her finger to the sound of Cassian egging on a fight. Rolling her eyes, Rhiannon left her bed, Walking to the kitchen and joining Rhysand's mother at the table for coffee. “How long?” She asked.

Amara looked at Rhys and Azriel, watching as the shadowsinger landed another punch. “About 10 minutes. Should be done soon. Let's talk wedding dresses.”

Rhiannon smiled, leaning her head on Amara’s shoulder. “Happy solstice, mom.”

“Happy solstice, Rhi.”

[campy-mccampface]

May I hear your headcanons/thoughts on everyone's sibling situation?

It's always so funny to hear about it conanically in the show e.g. Raj mentioning his brother during float trippers and of course the platypus brothers hehehehe

If "everyone" is too much to think about I'd just love to hear about your faves then :D

You maaay! Also I love u💛

Viewer beware; I will go into non-sibling tangents.

Lazlo: The fifth-born of seven kids

Lazlo’s got four big sibbies, two boys and two girls. The oldest one, a boy, is about ten years older than himself, and being groomed to inherit Fruita-Quicka, the family’s fruit company alluded to in “Where’s Lazlo?” His two younger twin sibbies, one boy and one girl, are eight where he at the time of the show is thirteen. Lazlo gets his endless capacity for inventing games from entertaining these little ones. His oldest brother, from above, taught Lazlo about half of them when they played together hehe.

Clam: Only child

Clam’s an only child if you ask me. We have every reason to say “Oh, he could have sibs that were just never mentioned,” (also headcanon just means do you own thing,) BUT! I really really like the idea of him being an only child, so I’ll say the lack of mentioned siblings is to me indicative that he has none. Clam, who I headcanon to have the last name ‘Sand,’ lives with just his mom, Eggnog, and his father, Ingot. They talk in full sentences unlike Clam, and love him to bits. They respect his various oddities and wouldn’t have him any other way.

Samson Clogmeyer: Only child (at first)

As we all know, Samson’s parents, Stanley and Grace Clogmeyer, are jellyfish. If we go by the logic of Joe Murray’s earlier show, “Rocko’s Modern Life,” one species can be born to another with perfect ease. Personally, I don’t think Samson’s adopted. Grace had a guinea pig ancestor, and the gene woke up when she was expecting him, (don’t fucking ask any other questions,) and so he was born. And at the time of the show, when he’s thirteen, he’s an only child. But! When he’s fifteen, Stanley and Grace expect another baby, and this time it’s a jellyfish. So Samson now has a little jellyfish sister. And, here’s the kicker: she didn’t inherit the ability to sting, so he can hold her with no ill effects.

Patsy: Oldest of three kids

Canonically Patsy has at least one little brother, whom I headcanon is named Potsy. He’s just two years younger than her but she mothers him relentlessly, (with thanks to @/deadbeandrop for this idea!) Then when she’s fourteen, they both get ANOTHER little brother, Humphrey Jr. (Commander Hoo-ha, in my headcanon, has the first name ‘Humphrey’ and is thus the Sr.)

Dave and Ping Pong: Twins

Dave and Ping Pong (really named Bruce in my HC but it’s never used,) are twins, and it’s just them two as the family’s kids. We never learn which is older, (and it’s never actually said they’re twins either but I can’t see them as anything else,) but in my HC Ping Pong is older by seventeen minutes. And whenever Dave feels like Ping Pong is babying him, he stresses that statistic. (“I’m only seventeen minutes younger than you! This is chicanery!” “Seventeen more minutes of wisdom, you teeny-weeny egg. Now, drink this water instead of soda for a change.”)

Edward: Five older brothers

So we all know Ed’s older brothers: Cheesly, Alpine, Fancypants and Philip. (Those former three are nicknames in my HC.) But! In “The Great Snipe Hunt,” Edward also mentions an older brother named Mel. I’ve seen some people say that’s merely one of the other brothers’ real names, but I personally see Mel as a half-brother from a marriage Edward’s father had and ended before meeting Susan. So who’s Mel? He’s a sleazy forty-something, cigarette-smoking taxi driver who lives far removed from the family in New York City. (Edward’s other brothers completely ignore his existence.) He’s rough around the edges but would give you the shirt off his back, and Edward loves him and makes him a confidant.

Here’s some ANCIENT, SHITTY art of him of mine.

Aaand that’s what I have as far as I remember in terms of sibling ideas!

Ty love💛

[sunstream7]

Bite Mark in the Shape of the Sunflower State- 2

>1000 words

Stars, stars, stars.

Who would've thought that in the modern era, no store sold glow in the dark stars?  Bookstores, department stores, even the local hobby shop. Absolutely nothing. Maybe the weird little fortune shop? If nothing else, a grifter might be selling knick knacks. 

The storefront was surprisingly bright and open, a far cry from the usual snake oil shops. And surprisingly few rocks. But most importantly, fully unattended. Wandering the aisles, Chiara took in the various Tchotchkes, trinkets, and occasional self help book (50% off, nice! Not that she’d buy it)

“Do you wanna change your luck?”

What.

The.

Fuck.

Chiara whipped around, and scanned the store, her eyes landed on the front counter, and on the, no longer empty, chair. Instead, there sat a child. For a few seconds, she thought it could be Del. They had the same pigtails and vaguely remembered yellow hair ties. Not enough freckles though. 

“Excuse me?”

“Do you wanna change your luck?”

The grin on the kid’s face was slightly endearing. Where were her parents though. Or any adult supervision? Chiara recalled spending many an afternoon when she and Cy would sit behind the counter of that bookstore, working on homework or people watching through the front windows. Cypress’ mom was always in a back room or somewhere in the aisles. That was probably the case here.

She had never been a spiritual type of gal. It just never really attracted her. She could understand the novelty of a palm reading or the allure of fate, but nothing ever seemed worth putting any thought into.

Then again, It had been a pretty shitty two months. And maybe a little stroke of luck would get her those glow in the dark stars. 

“Mm- Sure, kid. I would.”

The girl shot up in her seat, beaming as she leaned over the counter.

“Okay, five dollars please.”

Ah. About what she expected. It’s whatever. Rummaging through her wallet, Chiara finally asked the question that every storefront in a three block radius had heard that day.

“Do you guys have the little plastic glow stars?”

The girl pointed towards a shelf near the front- stickers, decals, and various other stationary. Not to imply that correlation equals causation, but that was pretty lucky. Leaving the five dollar bill on the counter, Chiara crossed the store and grabbed a pack. Perfect. 150 pieces! Even better!

As the kid finished ringing her up, Chiara turned to leave, only to be stopped by another question.

“You go to Saint Sara Belle.”

Was she about to get murdered? She wasn't in uniform, and had been in this city for eight whole days! How did this kid know who she was?!

“I do?”

“Cool! My name’s Cala”

If she answered, would her soul be bound in a pact with an archfey? Eh. Whatever. 

“Chiara. Nice to meet you”

A second attempt at leaving, once again thwarted.

“You’re nicer than the other girl that came in here, in your group. She’s mean.”

What, And she could not stress this enough, the fuck. That didn't narrow it down at all! There's two others! And they both seemed… alright. Well, as alright as someone in the problem child club could be, but still! How did she know about her?! Which of those cretins has been going around talking about her?!

“...Thanks? I think?”

And no reply. Slowly turning around, Chiara wasn’t interrupted again, and did her best to wave off the ‘see you again soon!’ as she slipped out the door, stars in hand.

What a weird kid. She knew of normal kid weirdness, having spent the greater part of a decade wrestling things out of Del’s mouth and hosing her off after tumbles in mud or dirt or any other thing she could get into, and she herself had been an awfully weird kid, but, to her knowledge, there were no psychic abilities in her family.

Yknow. If Cala could actually play with the strings of fate, more power to her. And if she couldn't, that was a REMARKABLY impressive grift.

Chiara opted to finish her little loop, exploring a whole new row of shops. The usual corner stores, an accessory shop, and most notably, a bakery. Pausing outside for a moment, she settled on heading inside. It had been the first school week of the year, at a brand new school in a brand new city. Del deserved a treat. She’d been taking this whole thing remarkably well- much better than expected. But a chocolate chip cookie wouldn't hurt.

What would hurt though, is seeing the bastard standing at the front counter, glaring like the painting he was looking at had personally killed his dog. 

Maybe she had changed her luck! and used it all up on some stars! Because how the fuck else was she supposed to explain being face to face with Pran?! Of all people?! You weren't even supposed to HAVE a job!! Can a bitch not just buy a chocolate chip cookie in peace?! 

No greeting, no customer service smile- which arguably would have been worse. The only reason she could tell her presence had been acknowledged was that his scowl wasn’t towards the painting, but her.

“Hi- uh… can i get a chocolate chip cookie?”

Nothing. At least he was consistent.

If the group meeting was bad, this was awful. Absolutely shooting daggers at her for an uncomfortably long time until someone else stepped in, and Pran all but sprinted into the back.

At least she got that godforsaken cookie. 

And she also got a request for another, because apparently, these were some of the best cookies Delilah had ever had. And could Chiara please take her to the bakery some time so they could try something else. 

Her luck definitely had changed. But somehow, in some near impossible way, it had gotten worse. 

At least the stars were up now, and she could have some nice scenery as she stewed on how much she hated this.

[hell-of-peccability]

pulling aus out of my ass #1:

> kuni(kida/haru) !!

okay. so. hear me out.

them. as the same person. for an au.

(for clarity's sake, I'm referring to all of the Saiki family by their first names. if you arent aware of them; Kusuo = Saiki K , Kusuke = Saiki's Brother , Kuniharu = Saiki's dad , Kurumi = Saiki's mom. I had to look up his parents names for this so I don't blame anyone.)

MY REASONING:

almost the same haircut??? definitely the same bangs. kunikida's hair would probably poof out the way kuniharu's does if he snipped off the rattail.

people's hair typically gets darker as they age (blond to brown)

people's facial structure typically rounds out a bit as they age as well

both wear rather similar glasses -- kunikida switching up his pair at some point would logically make sense.

kunikida to kuniharu. even if kunikida's first name is doppo, if this was some sort of "lets change my identity to blend in with normal society" he may keep "kuni" as a tribute to kunikida. (especially since 'kunikida' is the penname part of what the actual author went by, among other pennames)

it would make (some) sense for kusuo's dad to have some form of ability, as would result in his psychic-ness.

taste in women;

kurumi definitely looks similar to sasaki (which can be interpreted as probably kunikida's ideal woman), kuni(kida/haru) would probably find kurumi attractive, "Kurumi is a kind and gentle mother [...] She is also very trusting of and never doubts other people. However, when driven pushed her limits, Kurumi becomes scary and hunts down anyone who threaten her family. She loves her family a great deal." (saiki k wiki) this description of someone WOULD probably be close to his ideal, as kurumi is pretty much the ideal mom in herself. I believe she's close enough to where kunikida (if he's actually into women & not secretly gay) would settle for, if not seek her out.

THE BLATANT PROBLEM:

Aside from, yk, this not being the same fandom, the biggest issue comes with Saiki Kuniharu's personality.

"Kuniharu is unreliable, reckless and slovenly, often begging with disgusting teary faces towards his son. He is a doormat who is always nice and respectful to people no matter how rude or scornful they are to him, such as his boss, who orders him to lick his shoes, and his father-in-law, who harbors a strong hatred towards him. On occasion, he can be self-serving." (saiki k wiki)

I think the best reason that can be given here, is it's dazai's fault. Dazai manages to successfully drive kunikida so insane that he flees not only the agency, but yokohama, going to hidari wakibara to escape.

Kuniharu could be Kunikida after his ideals are (mostly) shattered, and his personality snaps. He suddenly conforms to authority, loses his schedule, begs in the same way dazai always harassed him with, either as a mask to hide under, or because he was driven to become that.

or, in other words, Kunikida lost his shit (*cough* possibly due to the current & former manga arcs *cough*) and ran off to start a new life, without his notebook, his schedule, and the ideals he lived his life by.

OTHER AU DETAILS:

If Kunikida's ability relies on his notebook, it would be pretty easy for him to shove that thing in a drawer and pretend to be normal. Maybe it so far as kuni's mind was wiped, which would account for Kusuo never reading that in his mind. It's just gone.

Kusuo wouldn't necessarily be aware of ability users if they weren't in his mind-reading vicinity, as he doesn't seek out psychics but he is aware of what they are when he gets close to them. He may not be aware of Yokohama due to this. (if any of this is wrong, shut up.)

Kusuke (given his mega high iq) is probably known by some of the BSD cast (for instance, Ranpo or Dazai) and dislikes them for being like his shitty brother.

Kuni HAS to have at least once accidentally used his powers and thought Kusuo was fucking with him. Or better yet, has had that happen enough to where he's afraid of writing because Kusuo will fuck with him. Maybe he even makes Kusuo write things for him whilst eying him suspiciously. Kusuo has likely chalked all of those thoughts up to Kuni being an idiot, and hasn't thought any more of it.

TLDR:

kunikida is kuniharu because this is MY corner of the internet and I SAID SO.

fuck you im claiming this is my new au that i cradle close to my heart. we are ignoring all the basic reasons why this is impossible kunikida just shrunk to 5'9", and changed his birthday and blood type to spite YOU.

i,,,, may need to write something off this.

[twistedwonderlandshenanigans]

Cater's Backstory - Monster AU

Monster: Gumiho/Kumiho (Korean folklore, similar to the Japanese Kitsune, shapeshifting abilities) Word Count: ~ 0.74K Relationships mentioned: The Diamond family (2 sisters, (eldest, Katryna, middle, Casey, hc names), mother, (Regina, hc name), father, (Cody)), Indescript People from the internet TW: Minor texting adults/Cater has a fake dating profile at 13, shitty sisters + mom, parents fighting, self esteem issues, family life vlogger, etc.

"OH FOR FUCKS SAKE REGINA, STOP MAKING HIM SHIFT FOR THE SAKE OF THE FUCKING THUMBNAIL OR WHATEVER YOU CALL IT, HE'S NOT A PROP!"

"YOU CUT OFF MY ALLOWANCE CODY, I HAD TO WOMAN UP AND MAKE MONEY SOMEHOW. I GREW THOSE LITTLE SHITS INSIDE OF ME AFTER YOU PUT EM IN ME, THE LEAST THEY CAN DO IS MAKE ME SOME MONEY!.....BESIDES, THIS WAY I DON'T HAVE TO RELY ON SOME DIRTY CHEATER'S CASH LIKE YOURS!" Cater could hear his parents going back and forth in the kitchen for maybe the third or fourth time this week, as it had been....the third or fourth time his mother had tried to shoot a baking video with him in it. His sisters segments had gone off without a hitch, apparently, but his mother kept stop and going when he was involved to make sure the way he looked was "perfect" according to her standards. He tried to block out the yells from the other room, his ears folding back against his head as he brought four of his nine tails to snuggle into, in front of him. While he wasn't a fan of the shooting process, or the way his mom made him shapeshift his face or body to fit her demands, he loved sitting with her once the video went up and watching as views and likes and comments would start pouring in. The feeling was....maybe the only good thing he got to have. Which is why he took it upon himself to find that feeling again whenever he felt upset. He sat up a little, looking for his phone as he used his tail to wipe at his eyes, sniffling a bit. It only took a moment to locate it, and once he had it, he opened it to the camera. He frowned a bit. It was too close to his face...to not be his face, but it wasn't his face. His nose was narrowed, his cheeks had been slimmed in, his eyes were upturned and a little bigger, his lips were slightly more plump than they were meant to be. He shook his head a little, wanting to start from scratch. It was always easier to shift starting from a familiar base. He took a deep breath before focusing on himself in the camera again. First, all he had to do was try to match how Katryna looked - even if their mom never knew, he certainly knew how many times she had snuck out of the house to sleepover at someone else's place. People wanted her. That's what made her a good base, and given that they were siblings, there wasn't all that much he had to change to match her. Once he was satisfied with his facial structure, he turned his hair longer than it was, just to his shoulders. He watched his ginger locks turn black, with a blue streak in it, and turned the colour of his eyes from green to blue to match his hair. He made his cheeks a little thinner and his nose more button-like. It wasn't like this was his first time. It only took him about a minute to come up with a face that wasn't his that he thought might be pretty enough, before taking several photos and choosing his favourites. He opened up the dating app on his phone that he had hidden in a locked file, under a different user profile. He knew his mom would loose it if she caught glimpse of it, thus the measures he took to hide it from her. It wasn't like he was supposed to have it in the first place....but thirteen was close enough to eighteen, right? Besides, the compliments he got- rather, his "character" got, made him feel happy. And this way, he controlled what was going on the internet, and how he interacted with people, and all without his mothers interference. It was perfect. He made a new account, posted the picture and a made up biography before starting to swipe right on every single person that came up. He didn't have to wait long for the compliments to file in, or the "its a match!" to fill his screen. He smiled to himself, before opening the most interesting opener and starting to chat, like he had done so many times before, ready and willing to do whatever it took to get that feeling.

---------------------------------------------------------- A/N: Hiya! If you made it here, you might want to check out my other Twstober works here, or if you're looking for some fluff after that fic, you can check out my main masterlist here. Ask box is open if you have any questions! Thanks for reading!

[h2llish]

we're starting my rambles with riddle, my love <3

there's a lot about riddle to unpack honestly. his mother was super controlling, and he was sheltered his whole life. he wasn't allowed friends, and he obviously didn't have much of an impactful male figure in his life. his parents don't seem to get along and that's me assuming his parents are even together anymore. and he also had to live up to a perfect expectation his mother put on him. like holy shit, that's a lot.

he doesn't know how to hold decent conversation, can't understand some social cues, and if you haven't noticed, he kind of struggles with maintaining friendships.

coming from someone whose been sheltered by a pretty controlling mother (and step-father, kinda), i can say i totally understand. while my mother didn't have a name to herself and she was a sahm (stay at home mom) so she never held many expectations, she still sheltered and controlled my siblings and i. for the longest time, like riddle, i hadn't realized that what my mother was doing wasn't right or normal. she prevented me from making decent relationships, ultimately ruining my social skills entirely and giving me enough insecurities to cover five(+) of me. i was fortunate enough to have my siblings to rely on, but it became unhealthy and none of us know how to handle real relationships/friendships when we're faced with them. even now, at 18, i remain under her control because of how sheltered i was growing up that the very thought of living without that control is terrifying.

now you take what i just told you about my controlling mother and you add that to riddle's life, you'll see just how shitty his childhood must've been. he didn't even know his mother was controlling until he overblots, he remained completely unaware of his trauma until the chaos of it built up into a meltdown. the only friendships he did have were forbidden when his mother learned he was interacting with other children, and with their leave so went his ability to learn proper, healthy, means of coping and social relationships.

and even after he became aware of the trauma of it all, he can't exactly change at the snap of a finger. he has to unlearn all the unhealthy aspects of what his mother taught him and learn more proper ways of dealing with anything.

and his temper? he probably learned that from his mother. you guys seen the way she acted when she learned her only son was making friends. it is very possible for a child to learn and take on qualities from their parents/guardians and he probably learned his anger from her. and to add to that, he never learned to properly cope with his own emotions under his mother's rule, so his anger is far more uncontrolled.

and i haven't even gotten to his insecurities and shit.

now im going to exclude his height here for obvious reasons (we all know how he is).

riddle probably fails to realize he even has insecurities. his trauma as a "golden" (only) child is enough to cloud the part of your brain that recognizes when you are feeling insecure. he still has so much to learn about himself, and that includes the insecurities that come with his childhood.

insecurities are actually pretty difficult to touch with him as it could be a number of things, and this is all guesswork, assumptions, observations; you can't know for sure. but i'm going to say what i think.

he's relearning everything from new, so i imagine that must make him a little insecure. to live under your mother's rule and then have a complete breakdown over it? someone like him would absolutely be embarrassed if they had to unlearn everything their mother taught them just so they could learn more healthy topics and methods.

he has a fear of failure; absolutely no one can say otherwise because it is so obvious. before his overblot, the stress of continuing to live up to the expectations his mother gave him was a weigh down and added to his blot build up. and after his overblot, he can't exactly break from that mentality. regardless of how much he may try or how much help someone may give, that sort of mentality that's been added to and built on for years cannot be easily broken. it's been shaped so much it might as well be comparable to a full concrete fortress of, "must pass this", "not good enough", and "she'll be disappointed".

he fears disappointment from other people. now listen, i know this one might seem far-fetched. he was and still sort of is dedicated to pleasing his mother, and absolutely sucks at forming decent relationships with other people because of poor social skills. but he is the housewarden of heartslabyul. he has definitely placed expectations on himself that he believes should be met and if they aren't he fears he's let down everyone in the dorm. what good of a queen is he if he can't live up to the quotas and expectations, he's set for himself? if he can't meet every rule? if he does not keep his dorm in the position of best?

he has the nagging insecurity and overall fear of never being good enough. whether that be with his mother, his friends, or future partners. he fears he will never meet someone's expectations and fail to be good enough for them. and this leads to my next statement, loneliness. his only friends were forbidden from him, and he's had no one but his mother until nrc. but even then, no one has been that close to him except try and che'nya so i imagine he must get lonely. and after his overblot, i assume that loneliness must have reached a suffocating point now that he knows about how wrong his mother's behavior was.

now to end this ramble and listen to me on this one ━ he's insecure. that's it. he's insecure about himself, his height, his trauma; everything. he's insecure.

overall, there is just so much to him and i just think people need to think about that when they refer to riddle. he's not just his anger and obsessive need for perfection; he's someone still learning his trauma and trying to better himself.

[basedkikuenjoyer]

If we're just gonna talk trans manga for a bit might as well show a little love to two shorter series that hold a special place in my heart. For being good. Just that, no frills they're just good and have something honest to say beyond the normal "be your true self" narrative. Because who gives a shit about trans folk after the fun part right? A big reason I love Kiku's story in One Piece is being a rare subversion...but even then she's only really like, the next steps after that phase.

Today's example, Kanojo ni Naru hi (lit. "The Day He Became She") goes way further. And it does so by using a light sci-fi touch to great effect. In this world, we handwaved the mechanical part of transitioning by just having it be something that can spontaneously happen to any male. The phenomenon is called "Emergence," it's compared to Clownfish, completely perfect and our protagonist Nao is a rarity for it happening as a teenager. Through that lens, we have a world where it's mostly normalized. Weirdly enough, we do also seem to have like, what we think of as "trans" in modern day alongside that. One of our recurring characters you could call an Otokonoko, they do mention "sex change" procedures...Emergence is a layer on top of our world. Which makes this straddle the line between part tale of someone all this comes easier to but also the crux of sci-fi, the world we're headed towards.

And this is a good example of how the sci-fi element works. Emergence still takes a toll on the body so our heroine here like, lags a few years behind as a result of transitioning. She's also a late bloomer as a high schooler. She wasn't asleep she was in a legit cocoon-type thing, so the bigotry is all bug-themed which is a pretty clever inversion of normal butterfly motifs. I always lose it at the friend who calls Nao "Mothra" as a lark. It's a lighter touch than it sounds, nice stand-in for going away for a while or having a rocky, reclusive period. But that was after the actual Emergence; sorta like Senpai is an Otokonoko the author had a one-volume idea that expanded to four. We start with it spontaneously happening and a high school drama with her childhood friend Miyoshi.

But this works so well and really shows the brilliance in the rear view. When you have what the story becomes...it really shows how Nao was originally going through a distinct phase. One a lot of trans women, especially teens today, struggle with. Your ability to look the part isn't everything. And it can cause its own category of troubles when that outstrips your ability to cope with the changes. A theme that continues throughout the series, but it's important here Nao has a chance to go back and you're still living around the environment you grew up in. People are willing to give you a lot of grace and positive reinforcement. Senpai wa Otokonoko sorta tells the opposite story, how it isn't a bad thing to let someone experiment a little. Past that point of no return though? That's where the real game begins.

That's Nao with her Dad. I love this storyline. Well before Emergence, Nao's mother abandoned the family for another lover. This caused him to have a lot of issues with women, and as a high school boy he was pretty shitty about serially dating girls and dumping them the second it got serious. Something that bites her in the ass a few ways as her and Miyoshi navigate being a college couple for most of the series. A big thing for her is that she looks like her mom now. For the record, Dad's just a workaholic that didn't even notice. His response was that Nao always had the same face either way and a totally different everything else.

But this is the magic. How everyone gets caught up in stupid misunderstandings and it's never something grand and dramatic. That's a story that deserves to be told, it already resonated with me a lot as a college student navigating my first relationship with a guy ten years ago. It does so much more now. Like...it's not hard to get why a newly out trans girl might hang around with a male-dominated hobby group she was already a part of for a bit. But this is a series that goes far enough to show you that type of pull coming up way later. How some little spark can trigger an old side of you, or even just...how hard it can be to rectify old traumas as a normal part of growing up when you feel like a completely different person than the one who experienced it.

Or maybe realizing there's more to this than you anticipated. When "Emergence" handwaves bigotry like acting as if HRT does nothing...that would have been useful. As someone who's always been at least kinda athletically inclined, who do you talk to about the sobering reality you got more than you bargained for there? No one wants to accept they're struggling with physical exertion that would have been nothing two years ago. Even the most open-minded girls don't want to hear about getting weaker from you and most guys just plain will not get how you didn't logically sit down and expect all of that from the jump. And you yourself don't even know if you're just being a defiant girl or a disappointed former guy about it.

I wouldn't expect someone fresh out of the closet to get all that subtext beneath a good romance manga, but Kanojo ni Naru hi hits that note in a way I have yet to find anything else that even comes close. What makes it work is that Nao and her sweetie Myoshi are cool people. Like here with a future in-law trying to expose Nao for being a bad wife. She filets a tuna like it's nothing and the house is spotless. It's very much a celebration on how this bizarre concoction of circumstances can create something beautiful.

Your only option for this one is fan translations, Lord knows I'd love an anime adaptation but that ain't happening. There is a sequel series, Kanojo ni Naru hi Another, that focuses on a younger emergee who is more resistant to the change. I can't relate fully because despite transitioning in the same time frame that only happened because I was well aware and accepted it about myself from an early age. If I lived in today's world without an abusive mom I'd be one of those cases that was well past socially transitioning pre-adolescence. But getting to know some teens today I feel like Nao is great representation for the type of trans girl who figures things out as a teen and maybe has to deal more with pressure to move forward outstripping the speed they personally come to terms with that. Especially if like, social transition comes surprisingly easy for you.

Watching one of the best case scenario teens I knew still hit that inflection point and "cocoon" stage on the cusp of adulthood was a real wake-up call to me that even in the best of circumstances this can be a weird journey with very little guidance. It's not wrong to take the easier path of showing someone dealing with baby steps or discrimination, but man did it make this series stand out for traveling the road not taken. And it makes Nao & Miyoshi's romance honestly just one of the best couples in any manga I've read.

[elderemorune]

I'll See Ya When I See Ya

I've grown up, and I didn't even notice. It was such a gradual shift, from only caring about games, my friends, my girlfriend, and what cool new thing I was going to make next. I was trying a bunch of different forms of art to see what I could do, writing, painting, sculpting, none of it good, but I didn't care. I was a kid.

Before I even realized it, I was 30. Living in a house, trying to have kids, caring about politics despite promising I'd never care about them. I was so focused on growing, on becoming a better person, that I never stopped for a moment to consider what that meant, what parts of me I was leaving behind.

Then, despite my best efforts it was taken away from me. My sister and her husband needed room for their kids, and the state asked us very nicely if we'd consider leaving the house.

So we did, and here we are in Seattle, in a shitty apartment, doing shitty work while I put my wife through school, knowing that she's going to do amazing things when she graduates.

And other than her, only one goddamn person had the decency to thank me.

I guess this is growing up.

It's putting down your toys, not even knowing you'd never have time for them again. It's abandoning the carefree creativity of childhood and embracing a more structured approach to creation. It's your mom putting you down for the last time.

It's realizing your parents are humans too. It's understanding that one day, they'll be gone. It's considering how that will feel, thinking you're prepared, and of course, being wrong about that.

It's lamenting the fact that you're aging, that you're going to die.

It's worrying about taxes, what people think of you, and if you're going to make it to your next paycheck.

I miss being a kid. I mourn for my childhood, what could have been, what was. My heart breaks for the little boy sitting in his room and playing with his toys alone, scared of what will happen when his dad comes in and sees the mess. The little boy who didn't understand why nobody liked him. Whose peers found him annoying and pretentious when all he wanted to do was be friends with them. Who was hated by teachers and admin alike because he was 'too smart' but they couldn't figure out what to do with him, so they punished him.

All he ever wanted was to be loved. To be understood. It took a very long time to find the right people for that. I'm forever thankful to my wife and my best friends, because without them I would't be who I am now.

But it's so much more than that, too!

Growing up is also realizing that you're so much more than just a kid. Understanding that you have power, a voice, the ability to change things for the better. It's learning how to communicate with others, making new friends, reaching new heights!

Here I am, on the cusp of my next birthday, planning to go party for an evening because I've never done that. And that's growing up too. Experiencing new things just because, or making spontaneous plans. Meeting new people. Evolving as a human.

I don't know when I looked at my childhood self and said "See ya when I see ya", but I saw him today, and fuck did it hurt.

I guess this is growing up.

[thisismenow3]

I feel like this site is good despite itself/management

As someone who lurked on tumblr for over a decade before being forced to create an account so I could follow more than the most recent posts of the people I follow on here, I joined this site in truth at a weird time. And something I’ve realized with the way stories of management almost tanking the site but being prevented from doing so on to the current situation is that tumblr and it’s staff and management are kind of like my mom. She’s remarkably progressive for a white woman in her 70s, genuinely, but at she can still be shitty. She supports all the rights to autonomy and protection for lgbtqia and women and non white people but refuses to change how she talks about things cause “people should just know I don’t mean anything bad by all the other stuff I say and do.” Like calling anyone with East Asian heritage ‘oriental’ or talking about how “it makes me so mad cause all lives matter,” despite me pointing out that by saying the last one she’s misunderstanding the point of Black Lives Matter ain’t to treat everyone well, it’s to have some decency and treat black lives like they matter as much as white lives to the system. There’s plenty more, like my mom deciding years ago to start taking her frustration at her life in her early 60s and the state of mine out on my disabled partner, has lighting her and refusing to ever acknowledge her repeated wrongdoings despite long periods of estrangement and reconnecting due to good behavior and my partner having a horrible family she had to cut ties with. But we’ve finally gotten to a good place where she treats my partner at least as good as the average mother in law (and sometimes better!)… but that’s more because her dementia is obvious now. But she remains a way better parent and person than any of my uncles and their wives, easily.

so in a weird way I’m seeing my ability to actually love my mom and my cousins who always left me hanging but now need some catharsis in the OG tumblr users talking about redditors and the tumblr staff/management. The company behind this site has many problems over the years, and it’s a cop out to say they are at all good now, but damn it if they ain’t somehow failing their way into running the site better than the people behind twitter and Reddit

[idontknowwhatiwantworld]

Can There Be Both Destiny and Free Will? If Not, Which Do You Believe to Be True?

 

  This question has me stumped! I've been coming back to it every other day to try to answer it. I've decided to just write and see where it takes me. This is a tricky topic because I don't think there is a yes or no answer for me, which is exciting. There's so much to discuss.

  Destiny is defined as 'the events that will necessarily happen to a particular person or thing in the future' or 'the hidden power believed to control what will happen in the future; fate.' If those are the two definitions I get to choose from, I'd say I believe in the first one. I believe that humans need something to believe in, whether it's religion, astrology, family values, etc. It gives life a purpose and makes you want to do good things. Also, 'to a particular person or thing' makes me think about predator vs prey; some things just aren't meant to live very long. Predators need to hunt, and the prey are destined to be hunted. What I don't believe is that destiny is always to blame for why things happen; actions have consequences, and I don't think it was my destiny to end up in corporate banking or to end up in shitty relationships in the past. I have the free will to change those things in my life.

  Free will is defined as 'the power of acting without the constraint of necessity or fate; the ability to act at one's own discretion. I get extremely overwhelmed by free will; I believe in it more than I believe in destiny. The reason I find it so overwhelming is because for the past few years I have not acted on it. Truly if I wanted to today I could quit my job and move to another country. Would it be hard? Of course but it is possible, I could buy a one way ticket to anywhere in the world. I don’t need to work a 9-5, that’s what I choose to do with my free will because I love comfortability and consistency. I use to give myself the grace to dream and dream BIG. That has diminished over the years, but I know I will get it back at some point.

  I use to act on my free will more often when i was younger. I am fortunate enough to lead a privileged life in most aspects. I was born into a family that would be defined as poor; my mother lived off the government due to mental health issues. Despite this, my mom still did her best to give us a childhood that I'd say was good. Of course, my mom did things that had a lasting effect on me, but I don't think it was ever intentional; she loved us. We moved from apartment to apartment as we were dependent on section 8 for housing. I've probably lived in six different apartment complexes and went to seven different schools; my childhood lacked consistency (which is why consistency is so important to me now). Sometimes we'd have food, and sometimes we'd have to wait a week for the food stamps to come in before we could eat a proper meal. However, I always went to bed with food in my stomach, laid my head down on a pillow, under a roof. My mom always figured it out.

 One thing that triggered me from living with my mother was the state of our apartments. They were always messy; I'd say my mom had a slight hoarding issue. There was always just stuff all around, always trash everywhere. In order to take a shower, I'd have to climb over what felt like a mountain of clothes on the floor or step on razors, old shampoo bottles, dried up soap before I was able to reach the shower knob. My mother was always home, and she didn't have many friends. The ones she did have were not great. We also didn't have a car, it was hard to get around, we always had to depend on someone.

  I love my mother, but I did not want to end up like her. She wasn't my role model. I wanted a clean space, I wanted a job, and I wanted a car. So I made the choice to work. From the age of 16, I got my first job serving chicken. It was life-changing to finally have money. I got my driver's license and soon after got my first car. I graduated from high school, which was something I didn't think I was able to do. I worked two jobs and was able to move out by 20. Somehow, I ended up in banking and worked my way up. I make more money than my mom would know what to do with. That doesn't mean I don't still struggle I do, but that’s the beauty of free will, I can do anything that I want. I made the decision with my free will to do better. I knew I didn't want to live a life like the one I lived growing up. I wanted to be able to order pizza any day of the week!

  Now, I understand that some people are born into a life that doesn't give them these opportunities. I know there are deep traumas that lead you down a dark path. I am not blind to that. That's why I find this question so hard to answer. That is why I believe in destiny, every deserves a chance to hope for more or hope that there is more to life. My human experience is not the same as yours and it never will be. I do know that we make choices throughout our lives, and we have the power to make those choices because of our free will. I also believe some people are destined to be life's prey. Apologies if this post seems all over the place. I just always have a lot to say!

Photo Link: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/1070941986372239789/

[sarahpetersonruiz]

"Maybe," Sarah responded, her tone lacking any real conviction in the idea. "It doesn't bother you that you don't know where it came from? That it could belong to someone else?" She took a sip of her coffee, her eyes never leaving her sister's face. She hated when they were like this with each other. As much as they loved and supported each other, they also had the ability to be as cold as ice with each other if they really wanted. At her words, her eyeline dropped ever so slightly. She was ashamed by what she had said to her sister, and she wished she could go back in time to change it. "I know," she said, her voice quiet. "I wasn't dealing with it well. I felt like..." she let out a sigh, setting down the mug and forcing herself to look back at Penelope. She deserved Sarah's honesty after everything. "I felt like mom's death was my fault. I still do, if we're being honest. If I had tried harder to get her some help instead of trying to keep it a secret, she might have been okay. I was just so terrified of losing you, DJ and Marnie. When she died, in some fucked up way I felt like I had to be punished for what I did, and that punishment was forcing myself to be on my own. I knew how hard it would be to get you to leave me alone, so I hit you where I knew it would hurt. I wasn't thinking properly about the implication of my own words, I just knew I had to get you out." She paused for a moment, taking a breath. "I can sit here and apologise and give you my shitty reasonings for hours, but it doesn't take back what I said. I just need you to know that I didn't mean a word of it. I never would. You've done so much for me, for mom, for the girls...If I didn't have you, I wouldn't have been able to do it."

"Maybe he's a romantic and carried it with him for years, finding the right girl." She said, lifting her nose in the air a little, adding the cockiness to her voice before she dropped. "Or maybe he broke in some old lady's house and stole it. Best not ask him." She shrugged, sitting back again to continue plucking on her croissant. "Sounds like a fun night." She hummed, though she matched her sister's tone of voice. However she remained silent when Sarah apologised, processing the words. It was easy to wave it away and say I love you back, but she was disturbed. "If you love me more than anything, why would you even say that, Sarah? That was really fucked up of you." She spoke, though kept her voice at a lower volume than she might have intended. "You really hurt me. You shut me out in the worst way possible."

[nehswritesstuffs]

Baratie: Home to Chefs, Strays, and the Occasional Sword Goblin - Part 6

So, this chapter was previously attached to the prior one, but it was getting long for what I generally want for these, so now it’s two!

First chapter on [tumblr] - [FFN] - [AO3]

Prior chapter on [tumblr] - [FFN] - [AO3]

It’s Dry Goods Run Day. [3272 words]

It was finally Dry Goods Run Day.

Unlike the frequent deliveries of perishables and tide-overs that the Baratie received from whatever traders were willing to sail to them, it was fairly standard to use the day they needed to restock on the restaurant’s shelf-stable items as a day off for most of the crew. The chefs, kitchen help, and waitstaff alike all relished in their ability to fuck the fuck off to places unknown for the day, making it so that the only ones really working were Sanji, Patty, and Carne as they hand-picked their spices and flours and dried grains and whatnot.

“Zoro-oji! Zoro-oji! What’s that?!”

...oh, yeah, Zoro was technically working too.

“It’s a balloon,” he said flatly, looking in the direction Asido was pointing. They were in the middle of the port’s market, where the boy was staring wide-eyed at anything and everything they came across. “Haven’t you ever seen a balloon, kid?”

“Not really…” the boy muttered. His green-haired adult exhaled heavily and picked the boy up, allowing him to bury his face in his shoulder. The kid ran his moods more lopsidedly than his shitty uncle, which honestly said more than the swordsman wanted to admit.

“Would you like one?” he asked.

“…no…”

“Well, if you change your mind, you know all you need to do is ask, okay?”

Asido nodded into his shoulder and Zoro tried not to sigh. Here he was: one of the greatest swordsmen alive, to have ever lived. He was one of the Pirate King’s Wings, for fuck’s sake, only to be reduced to the shit-cook’s babysitter for the past week. Was it two? Three? He really didn’t know anymore. It wasn’t the kid’s fault that his uncle was literally one of the most annoying fucks to exist on the seas, but that was neither there nor here. Then again, it wasn’t even as though it was entirely the shit-cook’s fault he was in this position—there was plenty of blame to be spread amongst a disturbing amount of other people, and none of them were in the port nor on the ship.

“Is there anything you’d like?” he asked.

“Mom…” the boy croaked.

“Well, it’s just me, so we’re going to have to make do.”

“Okay…” Asido mumbled into Zoro’s neck, clinging to him desperately. “Do you know when Mom’s coming back? I really miss her.”

“I’m sure she misses you too,” he replied. Zoro saw other groups of people as he wandered around, including families with kids. A little girl—about the sprout’s age, he guessed—bounced up and down as she waited for her dads to finish acquiring snacks from a stall, and it sent a pang through him. Words long-said rattled around in his head, making him hug the boy in his arms just a bit tighter.

You want to know why I never went to Totto Land? Because instead of just defeating them, I would have murdered everyone for taking you away from me.

They had been words whispered in the cook’s ear, hot and heavy as he had made a pass in their last remaining moments in Wano. He had been pushed away then, a rejection that was loud and clear, starting the agonizing path that led to their falling out. Now, by some cruel twist of fate, he was holding a child that looked like Sanji, as though they had rescued him from Totto Land after Luffy became Pirate King instead of before their siege of Wano. It was a kid that very easily could have come out of the Charlotte honey trap, or possibly even that dancer woman from Dressrosa… or…

What would he have done, if the blond showed up on the doorstep, a child in his arms and an apology on his lips?

Fuck… he really didn’t want to think of that now.

Finding a vendor that sold dorayaki, Zoro bought his charge a snack, taking the portable nature of the treat to his advantage as he continued to wander around the port market. While he was not able to find the way out of the market, he eventually ran into Sanji, who seemed more amiable than usual.

“Alright Marimo, you’re relieved,” he said. He reached for Asido and the boy willingly allowed himself to be passed, clinging to his uncle’s brightly-patterned shirt tightly. Sanji bounced the boy slightly and pressed a kiss to his hair before turning back to his crewmate. “Follow the street down to the docks and you’ll find the supply boat.”

“Sure,” the mossman grunted. He ruffled the kid’s hair before sulking off, leaving the pair alone.

“I don’t know if I like islands,” Asido frowned. Sanji chuckled at that as he began to stroll idly through the market—of all the things to be genetic.

“I don’t like them too much either,” he admitted. “We grew up on boats and ships, with water always under us. Islands aren’t like that, and I think we can tell a lot easier than other people.”

“Yeah.” The boy settled into his uncle’s shoulder, the top of his head wedging in the crook of the man’s neck, before sniffling, “I want Mom.”

“I want to give her to you, but you know I don’t know when she’ll be back,” he said. A storefront then caught his eye and he patted the boy’s arm. “Hey, there’s a clothing store over there. Let’s go ahead and get you some new stuff like I said we would.”

“’Cause I’m gonna grow soon, right?”

“Yup.”

“Well, I hope I don’t grow too much, or Mom might not recognize me.”

Deciding to not touch that, Sanji took his nephew into the clothing store, glad when the prospect of curiously new things distracted Asido from his doldrums. They were able to find several new sets of clothes for the boy, as well as a couple jackets and pairs of shoes, some pajamas, slippers, and a bathrobe that was comically big on him.

“Can I get a robe like Zoro-oji?” Asido asked as he flapped the sleeves of his new bathrobe. Sanji peeled the garment off the lad and handed it to the clerk.

“That’s a special kind of robe—you’d have to ask him,” he replied. Asido then shrugged and bounced off to look at a display of girls’ clothes while the two adults sorted everything.

“He certainly is full of curiosity,” the clerk chuckled. Sanji rolled his eyes.

“He’s not used to dry land, so I’m just glad he’s distracted,” he admitted. “Oh, no, wait, not this one; I’m going to pretend you forgot to ring it when we’re two days out.”

“I’ll gladly play the villain if that’s the case,” the clerk said. They stashed the t-shirt with a Sora, Warrior of the Sea logo across the front out of sight and continued folding the rest. “Your son a fan of the comic?”

“Something like that.” Sanji checked on Asido from where he was standing and frowned. “Azuki bean, is this you telling me you want one?”

“No…” the boy replied from the dresses.

“Then why are you still over there?”

“I was thinking about if Merry might like these.” He picked one off the rack and held it high. “This one would look nice on Lea, but weird on Montie! Why is that?”

“We’re here to shop for you, not your cousins.”

“Uncle Saaaaaanjiiiiii…!”

“Look, don’t touch,” the blond warned. The clerk stifled a snicker as Asido and Sanji sported matching scowls.

“My apologies,” they smirked. “That’s a strong family resemblance.”

“Eh; my sister and I could have been twins,” Sanji shrugged. “Didn’t correct you, did I?”

“True.” The clerk nodded deftly before tallying up the total. Money was exchanged and they started to bag it up. “Pardon me for prying,” Sanji raised his visible eyebrow, “but you might want to consider taking a catalog with you. If you’re at sea often, then it might be too long between ports before his next growth spurt, and the next one you’re at might not have a shop like ours.”

“I… don’t know how long I’ll have him…”

“We deliver most items by News Coo, and the packaging is plain, in case any of it ends up being a present or some other surprise,” the clerk continued, unfazed. “Kids are hard, especially ones you didn’t plan on.”

“How…?”

“You just came in and bought enough to fill a child-sized closet; you might be a natural with him, but it’s clear you just got him in a weird way.” They finished packing the two bags and placed the receipt in one and a goods catalog in the other. “He looks happy interacting with you, if it helps. His parents put him in good hands.”

“You must see a lot of people if you’re able to glean all that.”

“I work at one of the few dedicated children’s clothing stores in the area—a lot barely covers it.” They offered a polite smile as Sanji took the bags. “My apologies, again.”

“Eh, whatever,” Sanji muttered. He then looked at Asido again, who was still staring at the dresses. “Azuki bean! We’re leaving! What do you say?”

“Thank you for taking care of us!” the boy beamed as he joined his uncle. He waved at the clerk as they walked out, then proceeded to hold Sanji’s hand as they wandered the market. “Where do you think we can find clothes like Zoro-oji?”

“Why do you want to dress like Zoro-oji?”

“Well, he’s gonna teach me swords, right? So I got to have swords clothes!”

Sanji almost stopped walking entirely in order to process his nephew’s logic. “You know, people who fight with swords can wear anything they want. There’s no uniform you have to wear.”

“Really…?”

“Yeah; now let’s get back to the boat and make sure everything’s been delivered.”

“Okay!”

It didn’t take long to get to the supply boat at the wharf, where there was the unusually relief-laden sight of the marimo stomping onto the craft while Patty and Carne took inventory of everything that had been dropped off by varying vendors from around the port.

“This is a lot of shit, kid,” Carne mentioned as he tapped a pallet of flour with the end of his pen. “Sure you aren’t going by how much you need to feed that captain of yours?”

“I’m sure, you limp-dicked half-rate,” Sanji huffed, no venom to his voice. He helped Asido into the boat before bringing the bags on, putting them down next to some other bags and boxes he didn’t recognize. “What the fuck’s this?”

“Errands for our actual boss,” Patty sniped. “Just because he’s out of commission doesn’t mean he can’t have needs, nor that we should ignore them.”

“The idea that he’s having you take care of things instead of me only tells me that the geezer’s up to something,” Sanji frowned. He decided to wait until they were back at the Baratie to address whatever the fuck was going on, instead taking the opportunity to double-check his wares. Once everything was triple-checked and on the boat, they set off, heading back to the restaurant. They made it well before dinnertime, with Zoro helping Asido bring aboard the stuff for him and Zeff while the chefs all unloaded the restaurant’s supplies.

Bringing the dried goods aboard and sorting them all in their proper places was always a hassle, but once it was done, Sanji felt a great sense of accomplishment. He breathed a sigh of relief and decided to make something a little more involved for his family for dinner… and the Moss too… he guessed. An experimental curry, utilizing some spices he found on the island that caught his eye, though not too spicy so he could further gauge his nephew’s palate. He carefully made plenty of the stew and rice and left it in serving dishes, bringing everything up as such so that he could allow everyone to take what they wanted, while any leftover could be used as a staff snack the following day.

Opening the door to Zeff’s room with a gentle push of his hip, Sanji brought the meal into the room only to nearly drop it. There, he saw Asido sitting in one of the geezer’s armchairs, wrapped up in a blanket he could not remember while reading what looked like the fabled first collected volume of Sora, Warrior of the Sea. Zeff and Zoro were sitting at the table, both pains-in-his-ass stopping their conversation and looking at him nearly sheepishly as he stopped and stared.

“Oh! Uncle Sanji! Look what Grandpa Zeff got me!” Asido slid out of the chair and held up the book proudly. “It’s Sora! And a blanket! And some other stuffs!”

“Did he now…?” Sanji said, throwing a glare at his foster father. The old man refused to make eye contact, pretending that there was instead something vaguely interesting with his still-extant foot. “You can show me everything after dinner, alright?”

“Okay! Zoro-oji helped me unpack everything we bought today, so I can show you then!”

“He helped you unpack, eh?” Sanji asked, turning his attention to Zoro. The mosshead simply took his plate and began shoveling rice onto it, well-used to ignoring the death-stare the blond often threw him. “This is beginning to sound more and more like a couple someones might have broken rules while I was busy with dinner.”

“No big deal, twirls,” Zoro mumbled. “The kid’s allowed to be comfortable.”

“If you need me to say it, eggplant, the kid’s in what’s technically my house, and I say it’s fine,” Zeff mentioned. He saw as Asido was trying to fold his blanket on his own and chuckled. “We’ll take care of it later, azuki. Get over here and eat before your uncle has a coronary.”

“Okay!” the boy replied cheerily. He sat down at the table and stared at what Sanji was putting on his plate. “What’s that…?”

“Curry,” the blond replied.

“I thought curry is red and kinda soupy.”

“That’s how they like curries in the North—we’re not in the North Blue now,” Sanji explained. “This kind of curry style originated in a place called Wano, on the Grand Line. Zoro-oji and I went there a long time ago.”

“Okay, cool!” Asido took a giant chunk of potato and shoveled it in his mouth, only to spit it back onto the plate in tears. “Ow! Too hot!”

Sanji closed his eyes and tried not to grimace. Just… why…?

“At least you know he’s not picky,” Zeff chuckled. Sanji rolled his eyes and kept serving dinner—sure, he guessed.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

After dinner, Sanji went to go inspect his nephew’s room, finding that plenty had happened while he was occupied with cooking. The boy’s clothes were put away neatly, utilizing a level of organization that he did not think Asido or Mosshead were capable of coordinating. Books previously absent sat neatly in the bookshelf and some boxes sat in the corner, one suspiciously looking like flat-pack furniture.

“Old man said the kid needed a desk,” Zoro explained casually as he followed the blond in. “I’ll put it together tomorrow.”

“Can you even read the directions?” Sanji sniped.

“I’m not illiterate.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“Do you like my new books, Uncle Sanji?” Asido asked, reminding the men that the kid was still there. He looked at the now-full shelf, seeing that it was full of those damned Sora, Warrior of the Sea compilations. There were a few regular storybooks, but Sora was the bulk of the lot. “Mister Patty and Mister Carne helped Grandpa Zeff get the comics, and Zoro-oji got me the other ones!”

Sanji blinked. “He did…?”

“Yeah! And he got me these!” Asido dove into the corner of the closet and pulled out a pair of shinai, at which Sanji tried his best not to scowl. “He said that I need to be ready for when we start swords!”

“…which might be a while, remember?” Zoro replied, trying to cover up what was clearly supposed to be a secret. “Some people are never old enough to hold a weapon, let alone a sword.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I won’t!” the boy reasoned. “I can do flippy stuff and sword stuff!”

“Uh-huh, yeah, I’ll flip you right off the deck,” Sanji scoffed jokingly. He gave Asido a wink and the boy giggled. “Now go clean up your stuff in the geezer’s room, okay? You’re getting a bath tonight.”

“Zoro-oji doesn’t get baths!”

“Zoro-oji is also a barbarian, and we are not; now get going.” The two men watched the child dash from the room, giving them an opportunity alone. “You didn’t have to do any of this, mosshead.”

“I know.” He watched as Sanji took one of the books off the shelf and flipped through it. “That was, uh, the only one I actually remembered. The woman at the bookstore helped with the rest.”

“Of all things, ‘Noland the Liar’ is what you remembered?”

“Blame Usopp…?”

Sanji threw Zoro an unimpressed look. “You’re a goddamned moron, you know that?”

“I’m not the one who’s so wrapped up in his own trauma that he forgot that kids need stuff to do other than practice kicks and flips,” Zoro sniped.

“So getting him excited to become a potential new sword-moron is the answer?” Sanji hissed.

“I meant the books and you know it.”

“…and how did you come to that conclusion?”

“Kids like books…?”

“How would you know?!”

“I just do, alright?!”

“So you were into books? When you were a kid?”

“…no…”

“Then I’m not sure I want to know…” Sanji stopped when he saw Asido come back into the room with his new book and blanket, both of which he put on the bed. “That’s not where they go.”

“I wanna read more before bed!” the boy claimed. “I need my Reading Blanket to do that!”

“Okay, sure; say goodnight to Zoro-oji,” Sanji said quickly. Asido did and went over to the closet to pull out his new pajamas, giving his uncle just enough time to grit out a fake smile. “Good night, Marimo.”

“Night, Twirly-Brow.” Zoro shrugged in irritation before leaving, not really wanting to push the envelope with the kid right there. No sooner did he close the door behind him did Asido pop back at Sanji’s side, holding his pajamas high above his head.

“These?” the boy asked.

“If those are what you want, now come on.” Sanji attempted to lead his nephew into the bathroom, who was adamantly protesting, all the way down to kicking his feet once picked up. “You didn’t mind bathing before.”

“I don’t gotta take baths if Zoro-oji doesn’t!” the kid pouted. “It’s not fair!”

“Normal people bathe or shower regularly; if Zoro-oji wants to be gross and not bathe, then that’s on him. He’s an adult. You, however,” he sat Asido down on the toilet lid, “are still a kid. That means you’re still learning. Can’t break the rules unless you know them.”

“That’s dumb,” Asido scowled. “Baths are dumb.”

“Merry gets baths almost every day.”

“Zoro-oji says girls have to, though!”

Sanji shuddered at the very thought of Zoro having had a conversation with Asido about how much bathing is too much bathing. Fuck… gross…

“I shower every night, so don’t give me that nonsense,” he warned. “Now come on… you like lavender?” Asido nodded and Sanji began to draw the water, pouring in the bubble bath as the kid presumably got ready…

…only for him to turn around and find that he fled from the room.

Fucking hell.

[dvstybuns]

WHO: Dustin Henderson

WHAT: He’s Valedictorian, baby!

WHERE: Hawkins High Football Field

Dustin Henderson was sweating, and the ceremony hadn’t even started yet. 

It wasn’t the public speaking that was making him nervous. He’d gotten over his shyness after meeting the boys in elementary school, unable to shut up by the time they’d reached sixth grade. Standing up in front of the audience wasn’t something he was scared of, necessarily, it was just... this was a pretty personal speech. He was kind of baring his soul for people, in a way. Standing before them and listing all of the people who had made him who he was, thanking each of his friends for the things they had taught him. And while that was sweet, it was also a bit nerve-wracking. 

Dustin had been practicing it all week for anyone who would listen, and even for people who didn’t want to hear it. Suzie had been on the phone with him multiple times to go over her own speech as well, and the more he heard it, the more he was worried his own was too sentimental. Too raw and open. But it was too late to change it now. It was well past memorized, and to the point where he almost thought he could do it in his sleep if he wanted. Maybe he was doing it as he dreamed, honestly; Dustin had a habit of talking in his sleep when he was anxious. 

Claudia had insisted on them getting there early so she could get a good seat close to the front. She’s borrowed someone’s video camera, and planned on filming his speech so they’d always have a copy. That made Dustin nervous too, but he knew his mom meant well. She was so proud of him - he’d heard her gushing to her book club the week before about how smart and talented her baby boy was, and how he was going to do great things once he graduated. 

Great things that didn’t include MIT, but great just the same, Dustin hoped. 

He took his seat next to Principal Higgins, offering the man a tight smile. Dustin didn’t care for him - he’d been shitty towards Eddie and Max, and Dustin couldn’t excuse that - but he wasn’t going to be a complete dick to him before Dustin had even gotten his diploma. 

The first twenty minutes or so of the ceremony went by quickly, with the marching band playing a few songs and the Principal speaking. After he’d been introduced, Dustin stood up, taking a few deep breathes to calm himself. Walking to the podium, Dustin pulled his speech out of his pocket and looked out into the sea of faces before him. 

He could see Will close to the front, Byers being one of the first last names alphabetically. Mike was there, but he couldn’t find Lucas or Max. There were a lot of people all dressed in green, to be fair. Further out, he could see the audience behind the graduates, with his mom front and center. Seeing her and his friends calmed his nerves and gave him the ability to get started.

“Good afternoon fellow graduates, faculty and staff, parents, and distinguished guests and welcome to the graduation ceremony for the Hawkins High School class of 1988,” He began, reading directly from the paper. “My name is Dustin Henderson, and I am honored, but not surprised, to be your valedictorian.” That earned a few chuckles and eye rolls, mostly from his classmates. Dustin, unfortunately, had never become Mr. Popular. What a bummer. 

“I moved to Hawkins when I was in the fourth grade,” Dustin continued, finally glancing back up from his speech. “I had never been to Indiana before, and I had no idea what to expect. Would it be scary having to make new friends? Would I hate it here? Would I miss my old life? In short, the answer was: yes.”

Several adults laughed, whether out of genuinely finding it funny or just to be polite, Dustin couldn’t be sure. Pausing for a moment, Dustin found his mother’s eyes as she filmed him, an encouraging smile on her face. 

“Yes, at first I did hate it here. I missed Minnesota. I ate alone for a full week before anyone asked if I wanted to sit with them. I barely spoke in class, and I struggled to adjust to life here at my new school.” Life had been hard when he’d first moved to Hawkins. Dustin had missed his dad, and he’d missed his home in Minnesota. Nothing had made him feel like this stupid move was worth it, not even the cat his mother had gotten them to try to make things easier. 

“But then, I met three people who changed my life forever.” Dustin continued, eyes searching for Will’s and Mike’s in the audience again as he smiled softly. “I met the best friends I could have ever asked for. A few years later, I made even more friends, and they changed my life too. And if it weren’t for them, I don’t know who I’d be today.” He tried to find Max, but he couldn’t see her section very well. He was sure she’d understand, though. 

“Life can be scary. Oftentimes, we are presented with challenges that we did not ask to face. Sometimes, life can seem like it’s been turned upside down, and like my friends showed me, you have to be willing to rise to the occasion in order to overcome it.” 

That was the understatement of the decade, but Dustin couldn’t just launch into the story of what they had all been through over the years. This was as close as he could get to publicly acknowledging it, slipping the reference to the Upside Down in for those who would know what he meant. They had lived through Hell - but all of them were still standing here today. All of them had made it to graduation, which was a huge milestone for them. And Dustin honestly felt like he was only here because he had had five incredible people helping him along the way. 

“I learned from Mike Wheeler to always jump headfirst into danger if it means rescuing a friend,” Dustin said, smiling at Mike as he remembered the other being willing to jump off a cliff for him. Not many people would consider doing that, and Mike had done it without a second thought. 

“From Lucas Sinclair, I learned that it’s important to be cautious of the situations you encounter, but to not let them keep you from doing what’s right.” Lucas was always their voice of reason, always the one to help them see things that the rest of them couldn’t. At the end of the day, he could see the difficulties that they would have to face, but he never backed down from a challenge. Dustin admired him for that. 

 “Will Byers taught me that in the face of adversity, you have to do what you have to do to survive,” He continued, looking at Will. He saw one of the strongest people he had ever met. Will had been through so much, had fought so hard to be here with them now, and had always been able to do it with kindness. He led with love, and Dustin was a better person for knowing him. 

“Like Max Mayfield, I hope to always embrace every obstacle I face with tenacity and courage.” She was the bravest of them. A warrior through and through, someone who had had so many shitty situations thrown at them in life, but who still found the courage to make friends. To not let herself be controlled by her grief or by her rage, which would have been easy and understandable. Instead, she was a good person, even if Dustin wouldn’t admit that to her face. 

“And like El, I hope to always be there when my friends need me the most.” Eleven might have had to miss milestones with them over the years, but when it counted, she was there. She was a true superhero, Dustin believed that in his core. 

“I don’t know what lies before us today, graduates.” Dustin continued, glancing back up into the audience of parents. “Hawkins has seen many tragedies, but I hope that there is a bright future waiting for each of us. As we leave Hawkins High today, may you take with you all of the skills and life lessons that our teachers imparted on us. May you remember the good times you have had with each other, and not dwell on the bad. Let who you might be in the future shape you just as much as what has happened to you in the past. And always know that you have people willing to help you when things feel impossibly difficult.”

“Before we leave, I would like to thank my friends, my mother, my girlfriend Suzie, and my teachers for always supporting me and being there for me. Each of you has changed my life for the better, and set me on the path I am on currently.” He wished Suzie had been able to make it, just like he wished he’d been able to go to her graduation. It was just too far and the dates were too close together - but they’d call each other later to talk about it, he was sure. And no matter what, Dustin would be there to see her graduate MIT in four years.

As his eyes shifted through the crowd of faces, he finally landed on someone who he wasn’t surprised to see there, but hadn’t necessarily expected either. In the fourth row from the top, Dustin could see Scott Clarke beaming at him. In one hand, he held a camcorder, and the other was waving encouragingly at Dustin, who smiled back sincerely. 

“I want to leave you today with some advice I received shortly after moving to Hawkins,” Dustin said this directly to his former science teacher, hoping the man knew just how much he had shaped Dustin’s middle school years. “Hawkins High Graduating Class of 1988, I hope that you never stop being curious. Always open any curiosity door that you find. Never be afraid to be yourself, because that person is always good enough, even if it may not seem like it at the time.” He watched as Scott wiped a tear with his free hand, continuing to film the speech.

“Congratulations, and go forth into the world ready to take on any challenge, knowing that your party is by your side.” Dustin finished, smiling and nodding at the applause he received. Not everyone would have understood it, and even fewer understood everything he’d meant, but it was clear the love he’d felt for those he had talked about. They truly had shaped Dustin into who he was today. Lucas, Max, Mike, Will, and El. His mother. Steve. Eddie. Nancy. Robin. Mr. Clarke. All of the people who’d come into his life and changed it for the better. 

Dustin was standing here today because they had taken a chance on him, had seen him for who he was and had loved him, not in spite of it, but because of it. And he loved each of them. No matter what happened to them in the future, Dustin would always be grateful for the time he had had with them. 

[returntobeaconhills]

Falling Is Like This

“I can’t believe it,” Stiles says as they make their way down the crowded sidewalk. He’s so giddy, he doesn’t even care that Derek is eating the last beignet on purpose to punish Stiles.

Derek chews with clear annoyance and Stiles is impressed by his ability to display frustration when savoring something so delicious.

“We need a plan to lure out this shifter,” Derek says when he’s swallowed down the last bite.

“Or,” Stiles begins, “we could talk about what just happened back there because I have so many questions!”

Derek hunches his shoulders and glares at a living statue until the guy grows uncomfortable enough to change position entirely. “Nothing happened,” Derek finally mutters.

“It totally did! You were starstruck!”

Derek gives a long sigh in response. “I was not.”

“You were!” Stiles bounces up and down. “You stuttered and forgot your own name!” Stiles cackles.

“What do I have to do to get you to shut up about this?”

“Um, you have to tell me everything. Like, how do you even know who Ani DiFranco is, let alone how are you able to recognize her randomly in a coffee shop?

Derek walks them over to an alleyway and leans against the grimy brick wall. “Laura was a fan of hers. She took me to my first concert and it was Ani DiFranco, okay? It was when we got to New York and it was the first “fun” thing that we did because Laura wanted me to feel like a normal teenager.” Derek crosses his arms over his chest. “She got a job waiting tables. I worked as a busboy at the same shitty diner. After we had an apartment and a month of groceries, she bought the tickets. They were terrible seats but it was the first time I saw her smile since the fire.”

Derek keeps his eyes on the graffiti on the opposite building as he speaks and Stiles follows his gaze to the colorful portrait of a woman with stars for eyes and rainbow hair.

For the first time, Stiles wonders who Laura was outside of the body he found cut in half.

Stiles leans against the wall next to Derek. “You never talk about her. Or your parents.”

Derek finally shifts his eyes to look at Stiles. “You never talk about your mom.”

Stiles rolls an abandoned glass beer bottle under his sneaker. “My mom’s favorite band was Duran Duran.” His lips curl up. “You know, the guys that sing “Hungry Like the Wolf.””

Derek laughs. An honest to God laugh. It makes a warmth bloom up through Stiles.

“Of course. That makes a lot of sense,” Derek says. He pushes off the wall and moves to stand in front of Stiles.

Stiles stands straight up. Derek leans in and, as Stiles holds his breath, promptly wipes the powdered sugar from his hands all across Stiles’s favorite red hoodie.

“You dick!” Stiles pushes Derek back.

Derek smirks. “Come on. We’re not going to find the shifter if we stand here all day.”