#are you ever sick of tumblr posts hitting you like a truck

[oniikabuto]

general hcs ☆ south park

-- sfw --

characters: the main 4

a/n: it's literally midnight. i need to be up at 5am tomorrow. i'm writing about south park on tumblr.

synopsis: just headcanons of sp kids! their little quirks and habits and stuff

oh also aged up

...

— ⛧ e. cartman

has all of the really good snacks in his pantry

had a phase where he really wanted to be a garbage truck driver as a kid

listens to ariana grande and lady gaga

sings his heart out in the shower

refuses to admit it if you ever overheard him

weirdly sharp canines it makes him look like an evil little rodent

allergic to picking up after himself. there's literally a trail of shoes all the way up to his bedroom

never takes stuff out of his pockets before his mom washes his clothes but then gets pissed when his earbuds and stuff go through the wash

smells like baby soap

bites his pencils and they look horrendous

one time kenny asked to borrow a pencil and he threw it back almost immediately after feeling the bumpy chewed-up wood

thinks that menstrual products shouldn't be free because "can't they just hold it in??"

kyle will fight him about it

loves chocolate milk to death

— ⛧ k. mccormick

gappy teeth

but it looks cute on him

likes cds even though he doesn't have a cd player

always packs his lunch in the morning and karen's

there's little holes on the insides of his pockets and he has a habit of sticking his fingers through them and wiggling them without realizing

which make the holes bigger

keeps a porn magazine in his school backpack and leafs through it on the bus or in the library as if he's casually reading the news

sex jokes just SLIP out. he doesn't even think before he makes a sex joke.

his backpack is a mess and he uses the little pockets to store trash and edible wrappers and crumbs

has a disposable somewhere that he hits in the middle of class

kyle gives him a disapproving look when he stumbles into class high as balls

street smart but doesn't know how to do long division

favorite food is chicken nuggets with ranch

loves ranch (i fucking love ranch fight me)

will let you paint his nails

probably listens to tiktok music like mitski and radiohead and shit

also the smiths

— ⛧ k. broflovski

4.0 gpa all the way until that one A- in pe. junior year that dropped it to a 3.9

cried about it and sulked for weeks

stan almost left him because he got so sick of it (rockin that 2.9)

"dude it's not that big of a deal"

"MY LIFE IS OVER STAN YOU DONT GET IT"

keeps really organized notes- not just for him, but for the sake of his friends who take shitty notes

he has freckles idc if they said he's a daywalker HE HAS FRECKLES.

has a 10-step hair care routine every night

spends longer in the bathroom doing his hair care thing than his mother

spends 30 minutes every day watching tv with ike no matter what

gets violently competetive over kahoot

listens to the cure and elliot smith

keeps a different notebook for each class

— ⛧ s. marsh

always has at least one earbud in

sometimes when there's a lot on his mind, he gets very easily distracted

will step in the shower with his socks still on by accident

has a little crush on kyle (sorry style brainrot....)

used to read a lot as a kid, not really much anymore

unconciously messes with little papers or napkins in his pcokets and tears them to bits

gets like no sleep ever because he can't ever get off his phone or whatever he's doing long enough to try and get some sleep

still gets nauseous whenever he's near someone he has a crush on

terrible at articulating himself through text

if you want to show him a video or post, you would have to show him irl because he won't see the tag.

smoked weed once and decided it was overrated, but will sometimes get high if kenny asks or something.

loves vanilla flavored things even though it's basic

constantly has random change and wads of cash in his backpack because he's too lazy to stuff his things back into his wallet

[sadsoftserve]

Family matters- EE minific

(A fanfiction made to explore more of Sabrina's Relationship with Sylvie) ((it literally would not let me post this omg tumblrs a hellsite))

-first person pov-

I've been this way for as long as I can remember. It damaged a lot of my childhood. I can't help it. It's like a curse. Like when you run into an old enemy you thought you killed. Thats what it's like. My Epithet is a curse, literally. "Nightmare" is powerful, but I hate it. everything about it makes me sick. But, I should've expected to have such a terrible Epithet, the signs were always there. I remember the sleepless nights I spent crying, clinging to my dad. The nightmares never left. They stayed, I've gotten used to them now, but they're always there, like a looming cloud of rain. 

Rain.

It's raining. I didn't notice. I'm soaking wet, and I'm sliding down the roof. The drop is not far to the ground, but Mom expressed her distress about me climbing down from my room like that. So I climb back in from the window, and back onto my bed. I never used my bed. I had no need for it. I couldn't sleep, no matter how hard I tried. No matter how much triazolam they prescribe, or how much sleep therapy I get. I've lived with it for the past 12 years, no reason to change it now. My bed is soft, but everyone's is. My sisters, my parents, and my brothers. My brother. His name was like a poison in my mouth, and a illness in my head. I hated it.

I hated him.

He's always been the golden child. Always been Dr. Ashling, Dr. Sylvester, my smart little boy, Sylvie this, Sylvie that. I hated it. I never got that treatment. No matter how hard I tried to be like him. My twin, my brother. We always promised to help and be there for each other. That was the first promise we made to one another. The promise he broke. He lied. I hate liars. My jealousy has always been there. I'll be the first to admit it. But I have a reason. He's always been the golden boy. He graduated college with a doctorate in Psychology at 15. And I'm here sitting in my room alone, listening to the sounds of the rain. No wonder I'm the disappointment. Believe it or not, I wanted to be a lawyer, like my dad. I was dead set on it. But, I hit a wall. Burnout hit me like a truck. I was so dead set on surpassing my brother, that I forgot to pace myself. It was a stupid mistake. I was in college too, but I started failing so hard, that, they kicked me out.

I don't think I ever cried as much as I did that day. I was 14. A little over a year ago. It was a cold day, I went to a law school in a town north called Whitestone. Whitestone University is the same place my dad graduated from. I was kicked out. They told me I had 5 days to get everything out of the dorm, and back home, and they told me that "My grades don't adhere to Whitestone's expectations". I remember calling my parents that night, my voice barely audible, and my phone covered in tears. I had failed. Failed myself, my dad, my family, and my friends who were rooting for me. I was a scholar. I was gifted and smart, I have an IQ of 145, and yet, here I am, in my room, in Sweet Jazz, listening to the rain. I wipe my face and feel tears on my sleeve. I didn't even notice I was crying. 

Knock, knock.

My door opened, Vicki poked her head though. "Mom said dinners ready." She said as she took one look at me. "Wipe your face, don't let mom see you like that, you know how she is." I knew that. Everyone knew Mom was overprotective. With Vicki's word of warning, I quickly wiped my face on my sleeve and got up. I smelt the air, only based on the smell, I know what she made. Lasagna. It was my favorite, but I wasn't feeling it today. I wasn't hungry, I was just off. And it was apparent to everyone. The dinner table was silent. The only sounds were forks dragging across the porcelain plates, and chewing. Both sounds that irritated me. I sat there, poking at my food, not really eating.

"Elbow off the table," Sylvie said to me with his shit-eating, suck-up face. I rolled my eyes and fixed how I was sitting, because no matter what I was gonna get told to do so anyway. The table went silent again. This is how most family dinners were on the weekends. Everyone was off from work or school, no one had anything to talk about. Unless Sylvie piped up with some smart doctor speak with Mom, it was mostly silent. Dad looked up from his plate and looked at me, he was always able to notice how I felt, and he was straightforward with everything, it was a trait he gained from being a lawyer.

"Sabrina." He said, his voice monotonous, and his eyes peering over his glasses. "What's upsetting you?" The way he said it made it sound more like a statement than a question, but I knew better than to stay silent. 

"Nothing." I was lying out of my ass. I couldn't lie to a lawyer, but I was. For some reason. He raised his eyebrows and clicked his tongue. The universal sign for him knowing I was lying. He sighed and took a sip of his water. The glass was placed back on the table with a soft clink. 

"Sabrina Charlotte Ashling." Fuck, full name. I should've just said I didn't feel well or something. The whole dinner table was looking at me, and Sylvie, being a smart ass chimed in.

"Don't bother. She's probably Menstrating or something." He waved his hand dismissively. In his eyes, he was probably joking, but I was already pissed off enough to not care about that. 

"Like you know shit about menstruation Sylvie." I snapped at him, jamming my fork into my food and quickly turning my head to look at him. I rarely cursed in front of my parents, hell we rarely cursed at all. I was in a mood, and it had nothing to do with menstruation. I was pissed and was gonna let everyone know. 

"Watch your language," Dad spoke sternly as he pointed his fork at me. He sighed again as he pinched the bridge of his nose and wiped under his eyes. "For someone who is upset about nothing, you sure are acting like you're upset about something." a classic from him. I've lost track of how many times he's said that. I put my head in my hands and groaned.

"As I said, it's nothing," I said again, trying to ignore the fact I felt like either crying, yelling, or vomiting. It was probably a mix of all of them. "Don't worry about it."

"I'm gonna worry about it. You are my daughter." His stern voice was like nails on a chalkboard to me. "And I know my daughter." That was his way of saying something was wrong. He knew it, Dad picked up on things quicker than anyone else I knew, his eyebrows were furrowed, and his mouth curled into a slight frown. His voice, while it was stern, it was also caring. He meant well, I was just stubborn. The room went silent for a while, the only sounds being the occasional chewing and breathing. After a while, he spoke up again. "Sabrina, be honest with me. What the hell's going on?" I stayed silent, of course, to fill that silence was Sylvie, and his two cents.

"Probably just teenage rebellion. She probably just wants to be noticed, and gain your attention. Doesn't take a Psychologist to figure that out." Sylvie arrogantly pushed up his glasses and smirked. I hated when he did that. Put his two cents into conversations he wasn't a part of. Unsolicited advice, it was all irritating. 

"Teenage rebellion? What the hell do you know about teenage rebellion, golden boy?!" I slammed my hand down onto the table and snapped again. As soon as I did that Dad stood up and put a hand on my shoulder. He was reaching over the table slightly, but he was attempting to calm me down.

"Sabrina-" He attempted to speak, but I cut him off.

I stood up, slammed my hands on the table, and spoke, my tone cold, angry, and slightly hurt. "You wanna know what's wrong? Fine! I guess it's about time I said something!"

"Let's start with the main problem; Golden boy." I pointed at Sylvie. His face went from smug to confused to annoyed in an instant. He stood up and slammed his hands on the table in response.

"How am I the problem, Sabrina? Please, enlighten me." He stated with furrowed eyebrows.

"You're little Dr. Golden boy, that's what! It's all Sylvie this and Sylvie that, oh look at my son, he's a psychologist! I've never, not once, been praised for at least trying! I am as smart and as capable as your little golden boy. And yet I'm left alone while Sylvie gets all the praise. Maybe that's why you're so narcissistic!" I shot a look at Mom, then stared at Sylvie as I spoke. I was pissed and was gonna let everyone know. "It's not fair that he's handed everything on a silver platter! Every little thing right down to his Epithet! Maybe that's why he's successful, he's able to sleep!" It was at this point the tears came running down my face. I expected Sylvie to defend himself, but he didn't. He stood there and pushed up his glasses. He was taking into account how I felt for once. and he was thinking.

"Inferior." He simply whispered to himself.

"Excuse me?"

"You feel inferior is what I'm picking up here, Sabrina."  He sighed as he thought again. His head was pointed down, with his hand on his chin. He was analyzing my words. Why? He didn't care. Why would he? He's better than me, smarter even. "It's called an inferiority complex." He calmly stated. Dad stepped forward and put himself in between us.

"Sylvester now is not the time." He said as he looked at him. He looked at me and then back to Sylvie. "You know your sister, she's not gonna want any advice you give her." He wasn't wrong. I didn't want his two cents. But I wanted to know why Sylvie was trying to be nice.

"Let me try." Sylvie simply said. He looked back at me. "Please, Sabrina. Continue your rant." Was he using me for research? I was already pissed, he knew better than to do that.

"Like hell I am! I'm not letting you use me for your stupid hobby!" I choked out. "You wanna show off your degree go do it somewhere else." He stayed silent. His eyes were darting from place to place as if he were thinking. Tears were still streaming down my face. "Say something damnit!" I sobbed. I was shaking with anger and sadness, after a while he looked up at me. And smiled softly. One I didn't understand. He walked around the dinner table and stopped in front of me.

He wrapped his arms around me and hugged me. He was hugging me.

I don't know what snapped inside of me, but I broke down. I started sobbing uncontrollably. It was overwhelming I felt out of place. I felt... comforted, loved, and glad to have my brother. He was an ass, and egotistical, but that was all a face he put on. He cared. My tears were soaking into his jacket, as I felt my own arms hug back. soon enough, I felt Vicki's. then Moms, Then Dads. We were all hugging each other, in true Ashling fashion. It felt like closure, why I needed it, I didn't know. But it felt nice.

[biboybuckley]

First Ten Lines Game

Rules: Post the first lines of your last 10 fics posted to ao3. if you have less than 10 fics posted, post the first lines of all your fics.

this is so fun thank you for the tag @buddiefication!! i have 34 works and 22 of those are 9-1-1 fics, so here’s the last 10! (not including my collection of tumblr ficlets)

1. i need somebody to pull me out of this grave

Buck!

He didn’t know yet. He didn’t know that Buck was already dead, that yelling wouldn’t do any good. The first shout cracked open something in his chest, spilling poison into his veins. It didn’t matter that he was injured too- he was moving. Buck wasn’t. Buck wasn’t moving.

2. lying to ourselves, acting like we're something else

Okay. Here’s the thing. Buck likes sex. It’s fun. He likes how it feels, he likes making other people feel good. He likes sex. He’s pretty good at sex, if his partner’s praises are to be believed. He doesn’t like it when things get complicated. So he tends toward casual hookups, one time things that he never has to deal with again. Except… okay. He’s good at sex. The aftermath? Not so much. 

3. all the pain i should have saved

Eddie thought Buck was canceling on them. The clock hits 5:55 and he hasn’t heard from Buck. He was supposed to get here around 6, sure, but Buck has never, ever , not been early for a family dinner. Ever . He usually texts Eddie when he’s heading over, but there’s been nothing. Not a text, not a call, not the familiar sound of the jeep pulling into Eddie’s driveway and Buck’s warm voice calling out as he lets himself in. 

4. crashing, i'm crashing right into you 

Buck planned on telling Eddie. Really, he did.  He was sitting in front of Conner and Kameron and hoping his smile looked real and thinking what am I gonna tell Eddie ? And then he was at the station a few days later and Hen was watching him and Eddie was venting about Chris and it became more about how can he possibly tell this to Eddie?

5. this is my family- it’s little and broken but still good

It starts with a movie night.

It’s not anything abnormal- Christopher tucked between Eddie and Buck while some Disney movie plays on the TV and Eddie tries to force himself to watch the screen rather than Buck and his son. He usually gives up before the movie is halfway done and allows himself the small luxury of simply watching as his son drifts further from him and curls deeper into Buck’s side.

6. make me a promise, tell me you'll stay 

If Eddie never sees Buck in another hospital bed again, it’ll be too soon.

He’s getting really, really sick of it, actually. Of riding in the back of the firetruck because Buck refuses to take an ambulance that “someone else might really need and, anyway, I’m fine .” Of Bobby’s hand on his shoulder, holding him back as the doctors take Buck away to do a more thorough exam, despite his protests of “ really , I’m fine , Hen and Chim already- Bobby, would you tell them I’m fine? Eddie, c’mon I don’t- guys , this is just unnecessary, seriously!” Of waiting to find out that this is the time. The time that Buck inhaled too much smoke, that he hit his head too hard, that his injuries from the fire truck had regressed.

7. can you hear me screaming (please don't leave me)

Eddie’s world shatters the moment Evan Buckley’s heart stops.

He’s standing just a few feet away, at the door to Evan’s hospital room, fist poised to knock on the door. He stands frozen as he watches the other nurses swarm around the bed, unable to move even as the doctors shove past him. There’s frantic chatter all around him, orders being shouted, instructions flying around the room. No one spares him a glance- he’s off shift. The voices fade to white noise, the only sound Eddie can hear is the monotonous beep of a flatline.

8. been here all along so, why can't you see?

Eddie doesn’t care that Buck’s dating other people. Really, he doesn’t. He’s proud of Buck for coming out and happy that he’s finally exploring what makes him happy. It just. It’s just. Buck apparently has really, really shitty taste. Like his taste in guys is somehow even worse than his taste in girls.

So, really, it’s not that Buck is dating someone that’s Not Eddie, it’s that he’s dating people that Eddie wants to punch in the face. That’s all. Because Eddie’s worried about Buck getting hurt. That’s it.

9. nothing the matter with a kiss

Eddie really has to learn to not drink when he’s with Buck. Purely because, well, when Eddie drinks it suddenly gets very, very difficult not to kiss Buck. Like, okay, it’s not that Buck’s like irresistible or anything- Eddie has some modicum of self control. But a few rounds in, when Buck’s eyes are sparkling with inebriation and he has the rose blush of being tipsy and his lips are pinker than normal, it’s suddenly extremely difficult for Eddie to look away. 

10. take my voice, i'm giving it though i don't feel safe at all

Buck can’t name this. He has no way to identify the thing that chokes him, that curls around his heart and squeezes , that floods his lungs and lies bitter on his tongue, that fogs his mind, that winds through his veins. He can’t name the beast anymore than he can name what releases it. It’s- simply put, sometimes the dam breaks. The walls he has carefully built up, the ones that hold the nameless monster at bay, they come crashing down. And they bring Buck with them. 

tagging @swiftiebuckleys @ajunerose and anyone else who wants to do this!

[thethistlegirl]

1. What is something you wish you could change about your most recent fic/chapter?

2. Share a snippet of an old wip that you never posted.

5. What is something about your writing style that you think you could improve upon the most?

7. Best comment/tag/review you've ever gotten on a fic?

9. Share an off screen headcanon/scene for a fic of the asker's choosing (For the Roggenwolf fic and the WS AU)

Hmmm...I'd have to say just...fleshing it out more. It felt like it hit a stop point, and I didn't want to agonize over it too much before posting it, because I kind of already was, given that I was adding yet another fandom to the roster, but I think if I had it to do over, I'd take a little more time and see where I could add to the plot.

From that time I planned to write a sequel fic for the movie Monster Trucks, Ft. lots of found family and Dad Rick...and whump because ITS ME "Rick has seen the aftermath of a lot of fights. He’s seen drunken brawls at two a.m. at the Rusty Nail, he’s seen a few too many kids whose parents used them as a punching bag, and he’s even seen a guy who got mauled in a bear attack up in the mountains. But nothing has made him feel as sick to his stomach as opening that door to see his kid beaten and bleeding on the floor."

I think the thing I could improve most is probably my consistency. I have a lot of unfinished stuff, and I have a lot of slow WIPs, because I'm not good at carving out devoted writing time.

Best Comment...I wouldn't call this a comment exactly but the time someone on Tumblr was talking about an upcoming MacGyver episode with Murdoc and speculating he might be going with the "Most Dangerous Game" plot line because he had talked about it in the junkyard, and I went...wait...was that canon and NOPE it was Wunderkind.

WELL THE ROGGENWOLF THING IS OFFICIALLY AN OG PLOTLINE NOW, SO...mostly offscreen so far headcanon is that the scientists have definitely been kidnapping shapeshifters for a while and Matti is not the first they have set their sights on... and for the WS AU it's that Teddy doesn't often cook because of what convenient sharp knives means from his past.

Thank you for the ask!!!

[shinydocsberrytea]

12/15/21 9:47pm - sometimes i stare at the message bar of my texts w my gf & and contemplate telling her every detail of my eds. leaving nothing out & trusting her w every word. finally having a person in my life i can talk to abt this. not feeling so alone anymore. but i’m fucking terrified. terrified that she’d look me up & down & say something like “i thought you had to be pretty skinny to be anorexic?” (her saying this is extremely unlikely but i’m so afraid of it.) terrified that she’d feel like dating me in & of itself would be enabling my disordered behaviors. terrified that i will no longer be able to have days where i forget i’m sick/disordered if someone else knows. terrified that she would tell my siblings/parents/roommates/friends out of concern or whatever. terrified that if i ever do eat large portions or eat unhealthy food that she would assume i was lying abt the disorder to begin w or assume i’m cured. god i can’t believe there isn’t a single person on this planet that knows i’m orthorexic/anorexic (besides my tumblr moots love u guys). i NEVER considered anorexia before a couple weeks ago when i realized that u can eat 1200-1500 cals most of the time & still be anorexic. even knowing that though, i thought to myself, there’s no way i could be anorexic. like there’s no way my eds could possibly have hit the point of full blown anorexia. idk why anorexia has much more extreme connotations than all other eds but that’s just what my brain seems to think. i only ever met one person before i turned 18 that told me they had an ed. my 4th grade best friend was anorexic. she was super skinny & beautiful & that’s all i remember. that’s all i knew of the disorder for a long time. my skinny best friend was anorexic bc she was afraid of not being skinny. when i was younger i certainly thought you had to be skinny/underweight to be anorexic. i was shocked when every single test online confirmed that i have both anorexia & orthorexia. maybe i just have one or the other i’m not sure. for the orthorexia quiz (pic posted below) i answer yes to every single question, except i don’t plan my meals multiple days ahead & my quality of life has not decreased as the quality of my diet has increased. ik we’re supposed to believe that if u have any ed whatsoever u must be super depressed but i’m WAY happier than i was 45lbs heavier. i lost 25% of my bodyweight. a quarter of my past self has simply disappeared. and my entire life is better bc of it. but while i was taking another quiz, one of the questions hit me like a fucking truck. like all the air left my lungs & my jaw dropped. “to what extent, do you feel your appearance is the most important aspect of who you are?” bc realistically, the most important aspect is probably kindness or intelligence or being able-bodied. but when i think about what is most important regarding my quality of life & how people will treat & think of me, obviously appearance is the most important. & that’s just a fact. if you question that, google “33 convincing reasons to lose weight” bc even people who are like “nooo! diet culture sucks! everyone is beautiful & u can be fat & be just as happy as a skinny person!” are forced to admit that they’re at least somewhat wrong when they view statistics. factually&statistically: skinny people are more likely to get raises, offered better jobs, be treated kinder, get more attention, etc. then also there’s the fact that they’re way less likely to get diseases, have insomnia, have asthma, have depression, have acne, sweat a lot, have poor memory, etc. literally almost every aspect of life improves when you become skinny. & this is just the tip of the iceberg. i have countless more undebatable reasons why life is better while skinny in my notes. u could also view literally any before&after weight loss story/pic/video & ask if their quality of life improved. this is why skinny girls who tell overweight/obese girls that they should just enjoy their life & love themselves piss me off so much. they don’t fucking realize how much easier EVERYTHING IN THEIR LIFE IS.

[lambourngb]

2020 Creator Wrap

2020 Creator Wrap: Favourite Works

Tagged by the lovely @ravens-world - that was like 23 days ago! But I wanted to have more work posted, so forgive the late response.

Rules: it’s time to love yourselves! choose your 5 (or so) favourite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought to the world in 2020. tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

I now have 8 completed works on AO3 and 1 set of Tumblr ficlets, and I will say that this time last year when I was tagged in the meme, I had only one work. So 2020 was more successful than I imagined.

1. Last Year’s Wishes Are This Year’s Apologies -  (176,000 words) what started as a hiatus project that I wanted to have done before season 2, ended up stretching through June past the finale I believe. Missed deadlines aside, I’m very proud of it and feel it still holds up as a season 1 fix-it fic. It still gets “traffic” with hits and new bookmarks.

2. in sickness and in health (trojan horse) -  (51,000 words) the hardest thing I ever wrote, during this pandemic that will not end, secrecy of the challenge and another hiatus that lingers on day after day. However, it’s probably the tightest written story I have ever produced, where there’s really nothing that doesn’t tie into the plot or make the plot hurt more. Lots of angst, and I unknowingly let a bit of the 2020 Covid crisis color some of the details. Despite all of that, I hope the happy ending was carthatic.

3. Leave the Fire Burning (20,000 words)  - originally intended for Malex Week’s trope day, this sex pollen/lab accident/misunderstandings post-season 2 work was really just an excuse to write some explicit porn, particularly a few tropes I find hot to read.

4. This Hard Love (34,000 words) - debuted much of this during Michael Week, but the last chapter took almost 2 months to write as I juggled my big bang- but anyway, I loved tweaking canon, sprinkling some of the lines we love, and then playing out alternative scenarios. I also really wanted to do a look at Michael and his economic struggles in Roswell, particularly post-high school when he was living in truck, briefly in a shed, and then back to his truck again.

5. you give me a good reason to be heartsick again (let me down easy) with @christchex (5900 words) Writing a story set around early season 3 with Malex as being friends who talk about everything with Christi was a lot of fun. Yeah we tossed some salt about Forrest Long, but mainly we were complaining about some of the plot lines in season 2 regarding how “out” Alex was perceived to be. We laughed our way through writing this! First cowrite in way too many years. Also, somehow we left out the important kiss - but we all know that Tuesday night “date” was going to end in bed together.

Tagging: @haloud, @aewriting, @christchex, @adiwriting, @litwitlady, @el-gilliathand anyone else who wants to do this - please tag me so I can see it.

[consumedkings-archive]

ancient names, epilogue

A John Seed/Original Female Character Fanfic

Ancient Names, epilogue: goodbye

Masterlink Post

Word Count: 3.7k

Rating: M for mature themes, mostly T though.

Warnings: just sad feels, my guy.

Notes: One last and final thank you to everyone who has read, kept up, commented, popped in to say hello to me on Tumblr. You really made this an incredible experience. ♡ I can’t wait to get started on the sequel, and I hope you enjoy this little interlude!

Everything hurt.

Or, rather, everything that he could feel hurt—which wasn’t much, or was hard to categorize, considering that opening his eyes felt impossible and thus his brain couldn’t register whether or not all of his limbs were attached or not.

“.... ohn. John, wake up.”

No thanks, he thought, tiredly, as pain splintered up his spine and radiated through his skull. No, I’m really quite good right here where I am.

“John,” and it was Joseph’s voice, muddled with the sound of steady rain. “Wake up.”

John felt the groan, rattling somewhere deep in his chest, as he pushed his eyes open. Then, and only then, did the agony really fucking hit—real, pure body-pain, the kind that sank straight into the marrow of his bones and stayed for a good many days. Struggling, he forced himself into a sitting position, hands flat against cold, wet pavement.

Hands flat. Free. Not cuffed.

“Good,” Joseph said, sounding relieved, “you’re awake.”

When his older brother extended his hand out, John took it; with a surprising amount of strength, Joseph hauled him to his feet, and he finally got a good look around him.

Carnage.

The highway was littered with bodies and blood and the mangled metal of crashed vehicles. He saw dark figures; it was night, late, and his eyes burned, and his body ached, and when the low snarl of one of Jacob’s judges echoed in his ears, he thought, ah, that’s it, then.

Jacob was there too, with Faith glued to his side. Her palms skinned and her dress torn, and the blood from Jacob’s gunshot wound seeping through dark-crimson. A steady sheet of silver rain had begun to fall, drenching them all; the chill seeped straight into his bones.

And, of course, there was Joseph. Relatively unscathed. Not an open wound in sight.

“How did—” John started, his brain still foggy from pain and, presumably, being unconscious. Joseph gripped his shoulders. There was a kind of look in his eye; fervent, urgent, and John realized that it had been there all along—that his brother had always looked like this, and maybe he had just gotten used to looking into different eyes as of late.

“Our followers have stayed true,” Joseph told him, his voice low. “The Collapse remains on the horizon. Perhaps—”

His brother stopped, as though to gauge himself.

“Perhaps,” he began again, “not as close as I thought. I prayed, John. I prayed for us—for you, and for your child, and even for...” Joseph’s mouth twisted viciously for a moment. “Even for that Delilah of yours.”

Elliot, he thought, a wave of sickening, burning fury washing over him even when the venom in Joseph’s voice doused him like gasoline. Liar. Lied to me, lied to my family, lied—

Wretchedly clever and cruel. More devil than woman. He had always known it, had loved her for it, and he couldn’t be surprised when his hand had come back from the fire burned. You can’t have both, she’d said, and she’d meant it; of course she had. He wouldn’t love her if she wasn’t the kind of woman who meant what she’d said.

“We have much to do,” Joseph plunged on, as headlights turned around the corner of the road. “God is going to speak to me, I know it. I can feel that we have so little time left, John.”

“Okay,” John said, feeling a little dazed, trailing after Joseph when he began to move to one of the nearby trucks idling. “Okay, yes, we’ll—what do we do about—”

He stopped, opening the door to the car automatically for Faith to climb in. Of them all, he thought maybe he was the least fucked up—outwardly, anyway. Inside, his body felt like it had been jumbled around, tossed like a fucking salad at Olive Garden. The ache in his head didn’t dull as the seconds ticked by.

Jacob paused. The redhead’s mouth twisted, like he was biting back the things he wanted to say; John knew it had to be something like I fucking told you, I told you the situation wasn’t under control, I knew you couldn’t control her, but the words didn’t come out.

And in his own mouth, words sat, too: I’m sorry, I know I fucked up, but I know I can get her back.

Not can. Would. Would get her back, no matter what. By any means necessary.

“John,” Jacob barked out, and he realized that moments had passed—maybe minutes—of him standing in the rain, the door of the truck open. He moved on autopilot, hauling himself into the back seat of the truck and slamming the door shut.

The air inside the truck was humid, fizzing and popping with a strange energy. He could taste it on his tongue, electric; ozone; vibrating in his mouth and in his skeleton. Some of it the storm outside, and some of it the fury in his mouth, so potent it had become tangible.

Mine, he thought, shifting as pain splintered up his spine and shoulder. My wife. My baby. She thinks she’s done with us, huh? Not even fucking close.

“We have much to do,” Joseph murmured as the truck pulled a u-turn and began its route back to the compound. “Now, more than ever.” Through the rearview mirror, his gaze met John’s; lingered for a moment, and only a moment. “We will find her, John. Her, and your child.”

John felt his eyes flutter. Exhaustion was already beginning to try and take its toll on him. “She traded us in.”

“Yes,” Joseph replied, and his voice was terse, sharper than normal. “But God is ever merciful. And are we not to liken ourselves in his image, so that we may be as holy?”

He didn’t know if he wanted Elliot back to be holy. He thought maybe he wanted her back because she belonged to him—because they belonged to each other, two wretched creatures, and she owed him, and he would have what was rightfully his. What he was owed.

“Yes,” John agreed hoarsely. “Just as holy.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Nothing like dry-heaving over a toilet with your mother standing by.

“You know,” Scarlet said, “us Honeysett women have always taken well to childbearing. You were the most perfect baby, Elliot.”

Her mother was perched on the edge of the sink, a glass of rosé (chilled glass, of course) in her hand, golden curls perfectly pinned and coiffed and the floor-length maxi dress pressed to perfection—in stark contrast to Elliot, gripping the edge of the toilet in her sweats, stomach somersaulting and trying its best to achieve Olympic level gymnastics.

You’re not a Honeysett woman, she thought exhaustedly. You’re a fucking Graves woman. She managed to spit, taking in a long-suffering breath. “You said I was colicky.”

“Well, yes. But I never got morning sickness.”

Elliot gritted her teeth, eyes fluttering shut at the hot wave of nausea rolling over her, prickling sickly heat along her spine in warning. “That’s awesome, mama. Good for—” She swallowed. “Good for you. So glad. Really cool.” She exhaled. “Thank goodness it’s five in the afternoon. What’s that, then? Afternoon sickness?”

“Mm.” Her mother sipped at her wine, setting it on the counter with a little clink that somehow managed to sound three thousand times louder in her wretched state. “Yes, we’ve always been excellent vessels for our children.”

“That’s lo-uuh—” She closed her eyes tight. “Lovely.”

Scarlet’s fingers brushed her hair back from her face, cinching it in a ponytail. “Must be the father.”

You don’t fucking say? Elliot wanted to spit, but there was no room. Scarlet Honeysett tolerated a great many things—poor weather on the day of her events, a lukewarm glass to transport her alcohol, the repeated and systematic abandonment of her by her husband—but a mouthy child she did not.

“Educated inference,” is what she said instead. “I think I’m done.”

“Well.” Scarlet looked at her, arching a manicured brow. “Stay here for a while longer, then, just so you don’t go puking on my carpet.”

“Thanks, mama.”

“Mmhm.”

When her mother swept out of the bathroom and took with her the scent of her perfume—normally familiar and comforting, now only nausea-inducing—Elliot closed the door with her foot and leaned back against the wall in the bathroom. Her chest was burning; the strain of dry-heaving while the skin on her chest was still tight and healing was enough to have probably broken it open if she hadn’t been meticulously taking care of it.

And thank God her mother hadn’t seen that yet.

After a few more minutes of questioning whether or not she was going to actually puke, Elliot pushed herself to her feet and rinsed her mouth out with Listerine. It had not been easy, the last two weeks. Not only was she acclimating to living with her mother again—a thing which she had not done since she was in high school—but she was doing it pregnant. Pregnant, and with the child’s father nowhere to be.

Her arrival at the ancestral Graves home—a meticulously kept two-story historic building that had not only been in their family for so many years, but was planted on twenty acres of premium real estate in what was otherwise a small town named Weyfield—had been a tumultuous one, to be sure. Though her mother seemed inquisitive about what had occurred, she wasn’t even aware that anything had been happening at all.

Because she hadn’t been there.

“What do you mean?” Elliot had asked, incredulous.

“Well, I always come down here when the weather is starting to turn,” Scarlet had replied idly, squeezing her lime wedge dry into her glass. “I left In July.”

“The weather is not turning in July.”

“Some of us, Elli,” her mother had snipped, “are sensitive to changes in the weather. It’s not my fault you couldn’t feel it. Nor my fault that you didn’t answer my phone calls.”

It provided, at the very least, a bit of leeway when it came to explaining what was going on. Her mother had, of course, been aware of the Seeds in some capacity; but only in the kind of capacity that she thought them a zealous nuisance, and a little slimy—“Except for the oldest one, he seems like a good man,” she’d said, much to Elliot’s disgust—but nothing more than that.

This meant that Elliot didn’t need to tell her anything she didn’t want to. For now. Until the news broke, if it ever did; it seemed like headlines these days were more preoccupied with what was going on overseas than what was going on within the States’ own borders.

“Here,” Scarlet said, planting a pill bottle in her hand. “Take one of these thirty minutes before you go to bed.”

“What are these?”

“Sleeping pills,” her mother explained.

Elliot’s mouth twisted. “I sleep fine.”

“If you slept at all, I might believe you. I know you, Elli, I birthed you from my own womb, and you’ve never been a good sleeper.” The blonde paused. “And I hear you at night, you know, moving around. You and that hound.”

Boomer was fairly good at being stealthy, but perhaps not so much so in a house that was almost exclusively hardwood flooring. She’d have to remember that the next time she decided to go on a walk at three in the morning.

Elliot looked at the label. Eszopiclone, it said. S. Honeysett. “I probably shouldn’t take your prescription, mama.” And why are you giving me sleeping pills you should be taking, anyway?

“You need to sleep,” Scarlet said firmly. “For you and baby.”

It took a concerted effort to swallow back bile that tried to surge up her throat—for some reason, the knowledge that there was now a she and a baby, that she was both herself and vessel, made her nausea want to kick in. She hadn’t been sleeping, it was true. Not for lack of trying, either. She’d drink some kind of stupid sleepy-time tea, settle herself into the bed, and lay there. And wait.

And wait.

And wait.

But every time she’d close her eyes, she would be assaulted by images; Joey, jaw snapped and hanging loose from her face. Kian, face a bloody pulp. The blood seeping down her chest from the WRATH scar John had left. And John, of course.

He was always there, too. His eyes on her, his hands on her, his mouth on her.

So good, hellcat, it’s gonna look so good on you.

I’m all yours, just take what you need, I’ll give you anything, anything.

I’m fucking it for you.

I love you, Elliot.

“... listening to me?”

Elliot blinked. Her eyes burned, stinging with the threat of tears, and she swallowed thickly again. It felt like choking. Things often felt like choking, nowadays—things like breathing, swallowing, sleeping. It all felt too much for her to take, sometimes. Like she was deranged.

“I’m sorry,” she managed out, her voice barely breaking a whisper, and the second she felt the slip of a tear down her cheek she quickly wiped it away and sniffed. “I’m sorry, mama, I wasn’t.”

Something in her mother’s expression shifted for just a moment. Her eyes swept over Elliot, like maybe she thought she could see what it was that was really ailing her. Scarlet had tried to pry about John; she’d tried to figure out who it was that had left her daughter destitute, like this. What she didn’t know was that Elliot had left him destitute.

He deserves it, she thought through the heavy wave of exhaustion. Whatever they do to him, he deserves it.

“Maybe you should take a nap,” her mother suggested after a moment. “Dinner in an hour.”

“I’m going for a walk,” Elliot replied, tucking the bottle into her pocket for later. “Boomer gets crazy if I don’t.”

“Well, can’t have that. Back in an hour, then, bunny.”

She slipped past her mother, snagging the dog leash by the door and calling for the Heeler. He came sprinting down the stairs delightedly, and Elliot opened the door so he could go racing out. He’d certainly gotten less time running than he had prior to this, but he seemed in better spirits, anyway—new smells, friendly people. It was a dog’s dream.

“Don’t forget you have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow,” her mother called after her. “I’m taking you in at nine A.M. sharp.”

“Yes, mama.”

The afternoon had passed by in a blitz, as it was wont to do in late Autumn, and now Elliot found herself with so little golden daylight left; but she thought maybe she liked it best like this, walking with Boomer darting around ahead of her, watching the sky wring the last little rays of light out of the sun before it dipped fully behind the mountains.

I love you, Elliot.

She stopped walking, closing her eyes for a moment. A low, dull headache had begun to bloom behind her eyes. Lack of sleep, probably. Lack of sleep, and now she had a—

A fucking baby, she thought, with no absence of despair.

Boomer had doubled back when she stopped moving, and for a moment Elliot felt a vicious sting in her chest. Cry, it said, when the dog nosed her hand with a cold nose. Cry, it said, when she struggled to sit down in the damp, chilly grass, and Boomer could push his face into hers.

She had been alone, before. Alone in all the world. But not anymore.

Boomer tucked his face against her neck and stayed there, panting his hot doggy breath down the collar of her shirt. And as dusk fell, and the first speckling of stars started to make their appearance, Elliot felt herself come undone.

Just a little bit; just for now, while she could bury her face into her dog’s fur and cry, she would come undone.

And when she was finished, she would get up and walk back home. She would sit down and have dinner with her mother, and listen to her complain that while the doctor they were going to see was quite new but supposedly very nice, and she’d take a sleeping pill so that she could hopefully get some peace of mind for one night. In the morning, she would get up and out of bed, and she would keep living. That was all she could do.

For now, though—for a little while, she would let herself grieve. And every time she thought she couldn’t do it anymore—every time she thought she’d reached the absolute bottom—she’d keep fucking digging. What would she do with grief, if not lug it?

She would never heal otherwise.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Where the fuck is Weyfield?”

Jacob’s derisive tone did nothing to help John’s mood. Hunched over a map, the scattered papers of the file he hadn’t thrown away, eyes stinging, he thought he’d felt shittier only once before—long before his reuniting with Joseph. Back before he’d been cleansed.

He’d read every paper three times over. Stared at her photo for hours. Nothing felt any better than it had two weeks ago, when she’d been screaming that she would kill him.

“Some nowhere corner of Georgia,” John muttered, passing a hand over his face. “Her file says she was born in Weyfield, but that can’t be right—that shit is so small. Like, population three hundred, maybe? And her mom’s rich, which means—”

“Probably some kind of old money, then,” Jacob suggested. “Historic home. Lots of farmland surrounding it. Didn’t you say her grandfather was a racing jockey, mom never worked, or something? Gotta have room for horses and big fancy homes to go with those horses.”

Oh, John thought absently. Oh, of course. Of course her mother is a trust-fund baby. They would have an ancestral home, wouldn’t they?

They’d been back at the compound for a few weeks; Joseph had been secluded, alone, ruminating and marinating or whatever else it was he had to do to really hear God, and that meant John had been free to figure out what his plan was. So far, it was pretty bare bones.

Find Elliot and baby. Bring Elliot and baby home.

Joseph did not have a timeline, yet. He didn’t even know what it was that had delayed the Collapse—not quite. He had fervently insisted he be left alone to himself and God, to ensure that there were no interruptions—“Interruptions,” he’d said, “interfered with it last time, I won’t have it again,”—and so John, Jacob, and Faith had been left to rebuild what they could.

What members of Eden’s Gate remained after the veritable slaughter the Family had brought upon them were run ragged, but the nice thing about having an enemy meant that they were bound together by the same hatred.

“So that’s it, huh?” Jacob asked, breaking him out of his thoughts. “Weyfield, for the little hellcat?”

“That’s it.” John sucked his teeth and came to a stand, grabbing his coat from the back of his chair. “I should head out to Atlanta as soon as possible. I’ll need—”

“That’s a big city,” his eldest brother cautioned.

“That city has resources I’ll need. As much as I’d like to think that I could just track her down and we’ll kiss and make-up, I get the feeling that if I don’t do this the right way, it’ll be dragging her back kicking and screaming.” He paused, his voice tightening. “And I will be getting her back.”

Jacob watched him for a moment. He exhaled out of his mouth before he reached over, planting a hand on John’s shoulder. He half expected his brother to say something like, just forget it, Johnny, or it’s not worth running the risk of getting recognized, but he didn’t.

Instead, he said, “Be careful, keep in touch. And get my nephew back, yeah?”

John swallowed thickly. There was a lot wrapped up in those words; a lot that he had yet to parse through. Blinding, insatiable fury, that he had been tricked and lied to and deceived, but above all else—above all of that, he missed—

No, he thought, hands shaking and jaw clenching as he pulled his coat on. No, above all else, Elliot belongs to me, and that’s the beginning and the end of it.

“Don’t know it’s a boy,” he managed out, with all of those whispers rattling incessantly in his head. Jacob smiled.

“Joseph does.”

“I suppose so.”

A moment of silence stretched between them, and for the first time in a long time, John felt closer to Jacob than he did to Joseph—and maybe that was because he hadn’t seen his brother’s face in weeks, or maybe it was because he knew that for some strange reason, Jacob was pleased to have Elliot come back, and Joseph might not be.

Not if he was being honest, anyway.

“Off I go,” John blurted out, worried that he would get stuck in an infinite loop of trying to parse out things that weren’t meant for him to understand. “I’ll call when I get there.”

“Take someone with you?”

“It’ll just slow me down. Besides, I’m trying to not draw attention.” He paused, hesitating at the doorway of the church. “You’ll tell me when he knows, right?”

When he knows how much time I have?

Jacob’s expression hardened. He nodded once, short. “I will.”

“Thank you.”

John pushed the door open, stepping out into the night. It was chilly; soon, it’d be snowing, if it didn’t do so that very night, and the compound’s courtyard was bustling with sleepy life. As he climbed into the truck and took a breath to calm the rapid, unsteady beating of his heart, he closed his eyes for just one moment.

Just for now, he thought tiredly. I’m going to take a breath just for now, and then—

And then one more breath, and then another, turning the key in the ignition and shutting the radio off and throwing the car into drive, and then one more breath, until he was breathing all the way to fucking Georgia. He was going to get his wife back.

One way or another.

[modern-oedipus]

Update: I’ve been super sick ever since the morning. I think the stress piled up because I was super nauseous (and I... don’t even get nausea? Maybe I’ve thrown up once or twice within last 10 years and that’s it? So it’s extremely rare for me to get this bad?) and I had to skip my morning classes, then I dragged my ass to campus miserably on a terrible cold rain because I had to join biochemistry lab (labs are mandatory and if you miss one lab session you fail the lab), then I came back to home righf after, read a lil Falling for Your Voice and then just slept like the dead.

It’s around 9.30 pm now but I feel as if I was hit by a truck. On the bright side, maybe this was the decharge I needed, because I slept a lot and while my stomach still hurts I feel very rested, mentally and emotionally, which means I’m ready for the weekend in which we are going to study hard because we have three midterms ahead! I’m planning to reward myself with pizza and dessert tomorrow (definitely not today, I feel like my will to eat is back but I don’t want to risk it) and... get it done? Really.

There was an interesting encounter between me and my friends today. You know, college is college— it’s normal for people to have suicidal tendencies or make dark humor jokes at this point. By no means I think less of anyone, but one of my not-so-high-scoring friend jokingly said during the lab like, “I think I’m gonna kill myself on tuesday, there is so much going on.” and another friend of mine joined jokingly like, “Well, call me if you do, not to stop you but to die with you.” and I honestly thought of Dazai Osamu but anyway that’s not the point—

Another friend of mine, whom I briefly had a crush on in fact, approached from behind and joined halfway through the conversation asking what we are up to. Now this guy is a high scoring one and he’s kinda sweet and he multitasks many stuff and he usually does it well. So my other friend complained about how she was going to die (jokingly), and he just put his hands on my shoulder reassuringly, grinned at her, and said, “Well darlings, it means we are going to work a lot, get lil sleep, but also get this done!” and in that moment I noticed what a big difference the mindset can make.

Because that girl doesn’t believe in herself. She will just pass through but she will spend most of her time feeling sad instead of getting the work done (how do I know? Haha. Maybe I was like that too.) while he will just, get the work done, regardless. Both will suffer but in the end he will at least get a payback for his suffering? And the fact that he can say this smiling, with a non-sarcastic smile as well? So cute. I mean coUGHS that seriously gave me some motivation! I didn’t talk in that conversation I think, I was so blown by my realization of how important mindset is and also how he touched my shoulders but wow good shit.

I think I’m getting back. I won’t be too slow getting back to you all and getting back to my life but I won’t jump right away either because I still feel mildly in pain, which is a huge indication that it is me overworking myself.

Me and my friend had talked what we’d go out partying no matter what tonight but since I’m sick I cancelled that as well.

Also, I don’t know whether the authors of the fanfics will read this completely random diary-based post of mine until the end but honestly? Reading Falling for your voice calmed me down, like, I did try to write some of my fanfics but I was having extreme writer’s block and I couldn’t think of anything better than reading that cozy story (and also the author handles hurt/comfort so well? Unlike me who downright breaks the characters. I feel like I’m safe when I read the stories, which is so odd, but comforting), and also there is this nsfw-ish request of mine that was written sjfkvkdn and I kept thinking about Ray Grace smacking Norman’s fine butt and it is so hot and I’m so pleased and like. I also got COMMENTS like multiple COMMENTS on my fics aND alSO aaAaAAAaAAAAAaA Ari sent me?? Pics of?? Ray the perfection???? Of the perfect art?( and his ice cream???? AND THE FLOUR ON HIS CHEEKS?????? AND HIS SHY, UNCOMFORTABLE LOOK???? I JUST LOVE?? So much?????

As I said I’ll take things a lil slowly so I’m just making one big post about all updates today and getting individual replies back tomorrow. For now I need to eat (would u believe me, ME, the girl who lives for food hasn’t eaten anything except half a banana entire day) a bit, and then do biochemistry revision. It is cold outside, but somehow my heart feels so warm after my encounters with my friends and also from everything that happens on Tumblr.

Okay, this post doesn’t have a conclusion, but like... I really wanted to draw fanart for falling for your voive except I’m not an artist and I don’t know how to make Normie and Ray look nice. I know that’s not an excuse, I can just learn, but honestly, with this workload I can’t afford that yet. I don’t know. As I said, I am hesitant to go all way as I get myself back to life because I’m worried of another collapse, so this is enough for today. I apologize from everyone whose replies I delayed. Honestly, it is same on my irl messages too. I tend to not find the energy to reply back sometimes and these last two weeks were really some tough college life. Don’t ever take it personal! Anyway, complaining about past has a limit, I’m looking forward to revise my favorite class now! (Yes, biochemistry, haha. Though I only love it because I love the professor and the theory. Biochemistry labs are always so time consuming and I’d rather do something like bioinformatics if I chose a career. But still, biochemistry is all about understanding the life... it always mesmerizes me. I’m amazed.)

So stay safe and please don’t hesitate to message me even if I reply late! I really get this warm safe feeling when I am here, and, not detached. ❤️

Ah, enough talk, I feel like I’m talking to void since this isn’t a private message but I’ve written so far so I might as well post it.

Oh— one last thing! I seem to have a writer’s block! It is okay, I know it is temporary, but since I’m both short on time and not inspired, it is likely that there will be no updates this week! But after that I get two weeks free before finals so I may post! Maybe I update The Promised Wonderland, I like soft boi Norman having his innocent crushes, he is so cute, and pure, and I love these babies.

[deklaire-blog]

The Bite

{ An AU where when Peter goes through his transformation after the bite, his dad and pops (Tony and Steve) are there to help him. Happy first day of whumptober! @whumptober2019 }

Okay, so maybe Peter had heard his alarm go off the first time. And the second. And the third. And maybe he had turned it off the first time. And the second. And the third. His dads didn’t need to know that though. In fact, Peter thought his excuse for being late for was a pretty good one. Slept in when his alarm never went off. Despite that though, Peter was royale screwed.

“You do realize ironman has things to do, rightt? Things that don’t include driving you to school and having you blame it on my technology? Peter couldn’t help but flinch at his dad’s words.

“I didn’t say-”

“That JARVIS didn’t wake you up? Even though we both know that isn’t true? Yeah, Pete, that’s exactly what you said.” Peter stared uncomfortably at his lap. Truth was, he was so exhausted when he woke up that morning he hadn’t even been able to move. All of his muscles felt like jelly, and his entire body was stiff and sore. Maybe it was the Habitat for Humanity house building he had done, or being forced to (attempt to) climb the rope in gym. Either way, when he’d gotten back from that school field trip yesterday, he’d collapsed in bed and stayed like that until his Pops practically wrestled him out from under the mound of pillows and blankets.

He mumbled out some sort of apology, leaning his head against the cool window. Last night he’d been freezing, piling on every blanket he could find. Now, Peter felt like he was burning up. He closed his eyes. “Can you turn off the heat?” He murmured, the glass already warming from his body heat. After a beat of silence he looked towards his dad, whose eyebrows were scrunched up like when he got worried. “What?”

“The heat isn’t on bud, I’ve got the AC going.” Keeping one hand on the wheel, Tony reached one hand over to lay against Peter’s forehead, who couldn’t help but lean into the cooling touch. “You’re not warm.” His eyebrows furrowed deeper. “You aren’t trying to fake being sick are you? Cause trust me, I’ve been doing that crap for years and you aren’t going to pull anything over on-”

“Forget it I’m fine.” Peter turned away, just hoping the older man would stop talking long enough for the thrumming in his head to stop. “We’re almost there anyway.”

Tony sent him another worried glass, but silenced himself.

oOoO

“-eter, you good, man?” Peter looked up groggily from the math problem he was staring down.

“Huh?” Ned’s eyes were squinted, as if he was trying to x-ray him or something.

“You aren’t, like, getting the flu or something, right? Cause we have practice later, and you know MJ will kill you if you get the whole team sick. Again.” Peter dragged a hand down his face.

“I’m fine. Probably just the nasty weather or something.” Ned’s eyes flickered to the window.

“What nasty weather? It’s sunny out.”

“No, it’s-” The words froze in Peter’s throat. Where he could have sworn rain was pelting down flickers of light were cast on the window sill. “I could have sworn…”

“Really dude, maybe you should go the nurse or something.”

“I’m fine, I just-”

“Mr. Parker, Mr. Leeds, is there something you would like to share with the rest of the class?” Peter’s face went beat red, sheepishly sinking in the glare of their teacher whilst the other kids snickered.

“No, sorry.”

“Alright, then let’s return to our lesson if that isn’t too inconvenient for you.”

For a second Peter thought swimming in his eyes were tears, and he desperately tried to blink them back. That would be a million times more embarrassing than being called out by a teacher. But his vision was doubling, and his eyes weren’t wet. That was roughly when the dizziness kicked out.

It felt like a string in his ear was pulling him down to the floor. Gravity shifted and before he could try to balance it again his seat was tipping sideways. Just like the string wanted, his ear found the floor. Nausea hit him like a truck, and it was all he could do just to keep from retching. He heard voices, but he wanted to beg them stop. Please, please stop yelling. My head is pounding. He opened his mouth but what came out was far from English, a jumbled mess of vowels and consonants. Lights out.

oOoO

Tony’s hands shook as he ran his fingers through his kid’s hair. He’d done this a million times when Peter was sick. Pneumonia, chicken pox, the stomach flu. Poor kid seemed to catch every bug that came around. This time was different. This time Peter was shivering, and burning up. His eyes flickered back and forth faster than was within human control. When he wasn’t mumbling out absolute jiberish his was moaning, crying. Screaming…

“I’m sorry buddy. I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” He laid his head against the claminess of Peter’s hand. Steve laid a hand on Tony’s shoulder, the comforting rumble of his voice filling the air again. Asking Cho the same questions that they’d both been asking for hours. What was happening? When will the test results be back? Will Peter be okay? Please, to ever alien on every planet calling themselves gods, just let Peter be okay. The answer was always the same. She didn’t know.

Didn’t know why he was burning right through every drug they put into his system. Didn’t know why Peter’s skin felt cold but his temperature was almost 108. Didn’t know why the blood sample they’d taken had a completely different DNA pattern than the one in the files. One with arachnid blood platelets. Didn’t seem to know anything. Other than that they would have to wait and see.

oOoO

Everything felt like red hot fire. Peter tried to pry his eyes open, but the light was fire too, burning into his pupils.

“Pete, hey bud. How are you feeling?” Fire to his ears. But fire he recognized. Pops? “Turn the lights off, I think it’s bothering him.” Yeah, definitely Pops.

The fire behind his eyelids disappears, and he tentatively peeled them open. “Dads?” The sounds of his own voice was surprising, startingly different. It was gravvely from lack of use, but also several octives deeper than before. As if he’d gone a second round of puberty. A scan of his body only continued this theme. Were those… muscles? Carefully defined behind his skin, all angles and bones. He looked back towards the concerned eyes of his parents. “What… happened?”

Tony walked a few steps closer, sitting on Peter’s bedside and letting his fingers tangle into the brown curls. “We don’t know yet, Pete. But we’re going to figure it out. Together.” And Peter believed him.

{ Thanks so much if you read this far! I’m brand new to tumblr, so sorry if the formatting is a little off. Please feel free to check out my Ao3 (de_klaire) where I’ll also be posting this story along with fica outside of tumblr. Thanks for all of your support! @whumptober2019 }

[thiswomanshouldbewriting]

Holding on and Letting Go

This is my @rumbellebigbang fic, and damn was it hard to write. I never would have made it without my amazing beta @galactic-pirates and my partner @desperatemurph who made this awesome gifset. 

I am posting the whole story on tumblr but you can also find it here on Ao3.

Summary: On a night like any other, Belle French comes home tired from work, and wants nothing more than a good night of rest. Someone, however, shows up at her door: it's Gideon, the son she gave up for adoption thirteen years before. Shocked but also overjoyed, Belle hopes to finally get a place in her estranged son's life. His adoptive father, however, is incredibly protective of him; will she manage to convince Mr Gold that she's not a threat, just a mother that had to make a terrible choice?

Belle kicked her shoes off as she entered her apartment, unceremoniously dropping her purse to the floor next to them. Being tidy was a problem for tomorrow Belle; right now, even the thought of having to change into her pajamas felt like too much work.

She was contemplating whether it would be really awful to sleep in the clothes she’d worn at work when the doorbell rang. She couldn’t think of anyone she knew who could be looking for her at this late hour, and her mind immediately provided her with a number of scenarios involving serial killers. Through the peephole she saw a nervous-looking boy on the other side of the door. He didn’t exactly look threatening, so she resolved to open the door, but she was ready to close it at the first sign of danger.

“Who are you?” she asked, looking at the boy more closely and trying to remember if she had seen him before. He did look oddly familiar now that she thought of it. 

“Are you Belle French?” he asked instead of answering. 

“I asked you first, but I’ll let this slide because it’s written on the doorbell anyway. Yes, I am Belle French,” she answered, eyeing him curiously. 

“My name is Gideon Gold. I’m your son,” he said simply, flashing her a little smile.

His words seemed to take forever to register in Belle’s brain, as all the memories that she had tried to suppress for over a decade came back with a vengeance, hitting her with the force of a truck. 

“No. No you can’t be,” she contested weakly, but she very well knew he could.

“Didn’t you give a baby up for adoption on February 12th thirteen years ago?” Gideon asked her, clearly knowing what her answer would be. 

Belle just couldn’t find the strength to say yes. Instead, she took a step back and motioned Gideon to follow her inside. 

“I need a cup of coffee, do you want something?” she said as a starter, busying herself at the kitchen counter so that she could keep her back turned to him; she couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes.

“Could I get something to eat instead? I didn’t finish my dinner and walked a long way to come here,” he asked, and out of the corner of her eye Belle could see that he had already claimed her armchair as his, looking so at home in her house that it hurt. She opened the fridge, looking for something to make a sandwich with. 

“Why are you here at two in the morning? Where are your parents?” she asked, trying to bring her mind back to the present and away from dangerous could-have-beens. She just hoped Gideon didn’t notice the slight tremble in her voice. 

“I found out you lived here months ago. I just never had the courage to come here until now. Bad timing, I know, but I simply felt like it today,” he said, then quickly added: “Did you read all the books in that bookcase? Some of them are my favorites!”

“Look, I don’t know what you think of me, but I’m not an idiot. Either you tell me what’s going on or I call the cops,” Belle said, suddenly finding the courage to turn around and stare him down. 

“If you do, I’ll tell them you kidnapped me,” Gideon replied without missing a beat.

“And they’ll believe you because I’m your birthmother. You’re clever, I’ll give you that,” Belle said, feeling a foolish surge of pride for the kid that she couldn’t and shouldn’t consider her son. “I still need to know what happened though. Unless you plan on escaping abroad, your parents will find you sooner rather than later, and I’ll be in trouble anyway. As you can see, I have very little to lose, so you’d better start talking.”

“Ok, fine,” Gideon groaned eventually. “I argued with my mom’s boyfriend because his idea of ‘bonding time’ is badmouthing my father all the time. My adoptive mother got mad and kicked me out of the house mid-dinner, so I walked over here and waited for you to get back.”

“She kicked you out of the house for that?” Belle asked, trying to control the anger in her voice. She knew she was hardly in a position to judge when she had kicked Gideon out of her entire life, but at least she had known her son would be taken care of. Kicking him out with only the clothes on his back was downright cruel.

“Yes, well, it’s not like she enjoys having me around that much. I’m pretty sure I’m mostly an annoyance to her,” Gideon said bitterly. 

“I’m sure that’s not true. She adopted you, she wanted you, and I’m sure she still does. Maybe she doesn’t always make the right choices, but I’m sure she loves you,” Belle said, laying the plate with sandwiches next to Gideon and taking one of his hands in hers. It had been so long since she’d last held him, and all she wanted to do was to cry, but she had to be strong for him, at least this time around. She owed him that much. 

“You wouldn’t say that if you knew her,” Gideon muttered, not looking Belle in the eyes. “But thanks anyway.” He grabbed one of the sandwiches then, and silence fell over them as he ate. 

“So, you mentioned your father. Why didn’t you call him?” Belle asked after a while.

“I didn’t have my phone,” Gideon answered with a shrug.

“And you couldn’t have borrowed someone else’s? I’m sure many people would have been ready to help a lost boy. Or maybe you could have stayed at a friend’s house. Why come here of all places?” Belle inquired. She didn’t want him to feel under interrogation, but she needed to know what was going on. 

“Look, I didn’t want to go to my father or to a friend’s house. I just wanted to come here, okay?” Gideon bit back, hurt creeping in his voice. 

Belle sighed, taking a long moment to evaluate her next action.

“Gideon, I don’t want you to think that I’m unhappy you’re here. I’m confused and shocked and sorry for what I put you through, but I’m happy I finally get to see you again,” she started off, trying once again to keep her voice level as she treaded such dangerous ground. “But I can’t truly enjoy this moment if I know your parents are worried sick about you. I know this feels a lot easier to you, but spending time with me will only make things more complicated when your parents eventually find you. How do you think they’ll feel when they find out you came to me?”

Gideon looked away from her, the pout on his face making him look even younger. 

“I don’t care. My adoptive mother doesn’t really care about me, why shouldn’t I at least have you?” he grumbled.

Belle sighed. Gideon was hurting, and he had turned to her with all the spite and desperation that only a teen could have. He needed affection, but he also wanted to punish his mother, maybe to make her jealous. Maybe Belle was only the means to that end, and deep down she really didn’t know how that thought made her feel. Being all but used by her son and then forgotten would be hell - which she totally deserved - but a sincere affection might be even worse. Would his parents even allow her back in her son’s life, or would she have to let him go a second time? And if they tried to bond but Gideon found her sorely lacking, would her heart be strong enough to handle that rejection?

“Of course you can have me,” Belle said, her treacherous heart singing at the prospect. “But please, please call your family before I truly get arrested for kidnapping. Maybe you could call one of your grandparents? Mine were always ready to forgive me for anything, and they’d talk my parents into forgiving me as well. Here, you can use my phone,”

Gideon pondered her words for a few seconds, taking her phone in his hands.

“Maybe… maybe I could call my brother. He won’t tell dad where I am if I ask him not to. I can have him tell mom and dad that I’m fine, so they won’t worry. Can I… can I spend the night here if I do this?” Gideon asked, his big hazel eyes shining with hope.

Belle knew that it was nearly impossible that his parents would be happy not knowing where he was spending the night, but how could she refuse Gideon when he so clearly needed to feel that an adult was on his side? 

“Okay, but put the phone on speaker, I want to make sure you are not just pretending to call. I’m truly risking prison here,” Belle warned him. 

Gideon had barely started dialing the number when the doorbell rang. 

“Are you waiting for someone?” he asked, even though he had the feeling he knew exactly who was pounding on the door like crazy. 

“Miss French, I have already called the police,” a man hollered from outside. “Open this door now or I swear I’ll have it brought down. And if you have hurt even a single hair on Gideon’s head I promise you’ll regret having ever been born!”

Belle felt the sudden, irrational instinct to run away, the same visceral fear she’d felt when labor began and she realized there was no escaping the pain. She forced herself to step towards the door on legs that felt like lead, wondering if Gideon’s father would give her time to explain herself or if he’d have her taken to jail straight away. 

Surprisingly, he didn’t do either of those things. The moment she opened the door, he sprinted past her as if she didn’t even exist, running to his son and wrapping him in a bone-crushing hug. Belle looked away from them, and found herself facing two other men, one of whom was a policeman. 

“Don’t worry about Officer Graham. I couldn’t convince my father to come here without the police, but as long as Gideon is fine - and I’m sure he is - we won’t press charges or anything,” the younger man said, offering his hand for her to shake. “I’m Neal, by the way, Gideon’s brother.”

He was smiling at her, albeit a little awkwardly, and that made her feel a bit better. 

“He just showed up at my door, I swear I didn’t contact him first. I was about to make him call you. I’m truly sorry for this mess, you must have been worried sick,” she apologized, focusing on Neal because she still couldn’t find the courage to look at Gideon’s father. Judging from the rage in his voice as he knocked on her door, she had the feeling he was far less chill about this than his son. 

“I have no doubt about it. Gideon had told me he was looking for you, so when he went missing I knew exactly where to look,” Neal explained. 

“Couldn’t you have kept your mouth shut? I was fine, and I would have let you know!” Gideon complained, slipping away from his father’s arms. 

“No, you shut up. You made dad completely freak out. We had to ask Dove to drive us here because dad was so nervous that he couldn’t even keep the steering wheel straight. What were you even thinking?”

There was a flash of guilt in Gideon’s eyes, but whatever he was about to say was cut short when his father stepped between him and Neal.

“We clearly have a lot to discuss, but we’ll have plenty of time for that when we get back home. I’m sure Miss French has better things to do than listen to our family drama, and we’ve already bothered her enough,” Gold said.

He barely deigned her a glance but, when he did, Belle wished he hadn’t. He stared at her as if she were a speck of dirt on his polished shoes, his gaze filled with hostility like she had seldom known, a mixture of hatred and disgust she only remembered seeing in her father’s eyes.

“It’s no matter, really. I just wanted to help Gideon,” she said somewhat awkwardly.

“Well, clearly your help isn’t needed anymore,” Gold said, his voice cutting as steel. “We’ll be on our way now.”

Neal flashed her an apologetic smile as they exited the apartment, and Gideon lingered for a quick surprise hug. Belle could feel Gold’s eyes burning into her as she tentatively wrapped her arms around her son, but she was ready to fight his rage for Gideon. He didn’t say anything though, and soon enough she was shutting the door behind them. After the turmoil of the past half-hour, her home felt eerily quiet now. She started pacing around, tidying up the place to give herself something to do and restrain from thinking about how much it had hurt to watch Gideon walk away. Sleeping would have helped her, but even though she was exhausted her brain was fully awake. When, over an hour later, she got into her bed, she kept tossing and turning as memories and nightmares blurred together in a constant cycle of dozing off and waking up with tears in her eyes. 

Her sleep was too light and restless to keep her from hearing her phone buzzing in the early hours of the morning. The lack of sleep was making her feel light-headed, so it took her a few seconds to focus on the words contained in the message, which was from a number she didn’t recognize. 

‘We just got home. Dad was mad af and spent the entire trip scolding me, but he has calmed down now, and I’m not even grounded! He’s incredibly pissed at mom though, and now they’re fighting on the phone. Thank you for today, I hope you don’t mind I got your number when I took your phone. Love, Gideon.’

If she had been less sleepy, Belle would have taken some time to consider the implications of every possible answer she could send him. Instead, with her heart hammering in her chest, she quickly wrote the words that she felt were the truest. 

‘I’m glad you’re okay, and I don’t mind about the number at all. I’m always here if you need me. Love, Belle.’

She laid back on her bed, clutching her phone to her chest, giddy and heartbroken all at once. It was only when her alarm went off two hours later that she realized that, after Gideon’s message, she had finally managed to sleep. 

Throughout the following days, Gideon kept messaging her with alarming regularity. He told her about how his day had been and asked about hers, he complained about how silly his brother became whenever a certain Emma was involved, and showered her with his thoughts about pretty much every fantasy saga he had been able to put his hands on. Belle liked to think that his love for books came from her, and the thought warmed her from the inside. His messages, however, worried her just as much as they rejoiced her. She truly wanted to be close to Gideon, yet she worried that she was only making things worse for him, teaching him to keep secrets from his parents and undermining their authority in her selfish desire to fix her past failings.

After a few days of furious debating with herself, she eventually resolved to ask for a friend’s help. There were very few people who knew she had given her son up for adoption, and she had cut them all out of her life, for good reason. This meant that if she wanted someone’s advice, she’d need to come clean about her past first. 

Ariel had a daughter of her own, so she was the only one of her friends who could speak from experience, but that also meant that she would truly understand the gravity of what Belle had done. By talking to her, Belle could jeopardize the life she had built for herself; if Ariel recoiled from her, if she called her a monster and told all their friends just what kind of woman she was, Belle really wouldn’t be able to blame her, but she’d also need to move again, just like she’d done as soon as she’d finished high school. Her own guilt was heavy enough to bear; she couldn’t live with other people’s judgment as well.

They met that afternoon, and Belle’s voice trembled as she started telling her story, but her friend proved more than worthy of her trust. Ariel let Belle talk without interrupting, and if there was a flicker of shock or horror in her eyes she did her best to hide it. When the tale was finally over, and Belle felt like she’d just run a marathon, the first thing Ariel did was hug her. 

“I’m so sorry. You deserved better, both you and your son,” she said, holding her so tightly that it almost hurt. It was exactly what Belle had needed, and she had to take a few deep breaths to keep from sobbing in relief. 

“I gave him up for that, to offer him something better, but now I’m not sure of what that is anymore,” she admitted. 

Ariel pulled back, but kept a strong hold of her hands, a reminder that she was not going to leave her. “I will be honest with you, Belle: if I were Gideon’s adoptive mother, I’d want to know that you’re in contact with him. The more you drag this on secretly, the more suspicious your behavior looks.”

“And what if his parents forbid him to talk to me again?”

“It’s a possibility, I can’t deny that, but Gideon cares about you and he has already shown just how determined he is to have a relationship with you again. You can’t expect his parents to be happy that he’s looking for another parent, but as wary or unhappy as they might be, they should let you see him for Gideon’s sake. Your son made the first step, Belle, but now it’s up to you to make sure that you go about this the right way.”

As much as it scared Belle to admit it, Ariel was right. Somehow, she had to work up the courage to speak to Gideon’s parents, starting with his father. She was pretty sure the man hated her, yet he was the one Gideon was closer to. Besides, she was still mad at his mother for kicking him out of the house, and she wasn’t sure she could hold a whole conversation with her without bringing that up. Gideon wasn’t all that happy when she mentioned her intentions to him, because he too was afraid that his father would try to put an end to their newfound relationship. He even went so far as to call her for the first time, but Belle, just like she’d done on the night he’d come looking for her, gradually managed to convince him, and soon enough she had Gold’s phone number registered. All she had to do now was find the courage to actually call him. She stared at her phone screen for what felt like hours, and eventually chickened out by telling herself that it was too late to call him anyway, and that he’d probably be pissed if she called him now. 

She stalled as long as she could the following morning, but way too soon she was ready to start the day and make that phonecall. Holding her breath, she pressed the ‘call’ button and waited. It took Gold a while to pick up, so much that she had been about to hang up when he finally did. 

“Ah, good morning, is this Mr Gold?” she stammered, her throat feeling as dry as sandpaper. 

“Yes. Who am I talking to?”

“I know this might be surprising, but I’m Belle French and I’m…” she started, only to be harshly cut off.

“I know exactly who you are, and this is why I suggest you hang up right now and delete this number, unless you want to find yourself in serious trouble,” he hissed at her. The rage and disgust in his voice made her want to cry, but Belle knew that, with Gideon’s happiness at stake, she couldn’t afford to have a breakdown. 

“Gideon and I have been messaging ever since he came looking for me,” she said quickly, before Gold could decide to hang up himself. “He took my number when I told him to call you. I wanted you to know.”

There was silence on the other end of the line for a while. Right when Belle was starting to think he might have hung up on her after all, Gold’s ice-cold voice reached her ears again. 

“And you’ve called so I can make it stop? You’ve realized teens are still as much work as newborns, but that it’s so much harder to shut the door in their face when they’re old enough to realize it?”

His assumptions were so absurdly wrong that, for a moment, Belle couldn’t find the words to reply. “No, no, how can you think I… you got it all wrong,” she explained hastily, horrified by the image Gold clearly had of her. “I don’t want you to put an end to this, I would never ask you to. I’m actually calling for the opposite reason; I want this to go on, but I don’t want to do this behind your back. I don’t want Gideon to lie to you. I know you have every reason to be wary of me, but I really want nothing more than to make Gideon happy, and I hope I can prove that to you.”

“I believe this is something we should discuss in person. I can drive to Boston and be there early in the afternoon,” he said, and Belle didn’t know if she should be happy that he wasn’t flat-out telling her no, or worried that he hadn’t said yes. 

“I’m afraid I’ll be at work then. Could we do next Monday instead? And I could be the one to drive over, I don’t want to inconvenience you more than necessary.”

“No, I’m driving over to you,” he insisted, his tone admitting no protest. “I’ll be there on Monday in the early afternoon. I’d be glad if you didn’t tell Gideon about this meeting before Monday, I’d rather not have him worrying about what we might or might not tell each other.”

His voice, that had been cold and distant throughout the whole exchange, seemed to warm up a little as he mentioned Gideon, and that gave Belle hope. He truly loved her… well, his son, so why should he keep Gideon from his birthmother if that connection was important to him? 

That thought kept her company throughout the following days, helping ease her nervousness at the upcoming meeting, but by Monday morning she was a nervous wreck nonetheless. She woke up unbelievably early, and started making rounds of her apartment - which she had spent the entire week cleaning and tidying up - to make sure that everything was truly spotless. Still with plenty of time to spare before Gold’s arrival, she took extra care in her outfit and make up; she only had this one shot at impressing him, and everything had to be perfect. She nearly jumped out of her skin when the doorbell finally rang. She took a deep breath, trying and failing to calm herself, then opened the door. 

Gold gave her a cold nod, then strolled in as if he owned the place. Judging from his tailored suit and from what Gideon had told her, he could probably afford to. During their first meeting she had been so nervous that she had somehow failed to notice he used a cane, but even that couldn’t make him look any less intimidating.

“Would you…” she started off awkwardly, then paused to clear her throat. “Would you like something to drink?” she tried again, her voice sounding a little more confident this time.

“Miss French, we both know I’m not here for a drink or for small talk. I’m here to know what you want, and I don’t like wasting my time,” he replied drily.

Under his scrutiny, Belle felt nearly paralyzed, but she pushed that feeling down, focusing solely on the thought of Gideon and drawing strength from that. She straightened her back and stared at Gold with all the determination she was capable of.

“I want a place in Gideon’s life, as long as he wants me to have it. I gave up my parental rights fourteen years ago and I know that there’s no changing that, that I’m not legally his parent anymore, but he came looking for me, and I want to be able to be as close to him as a friend would. I want to be able to call him and message him and just be by his side if he needs me. Please give me this chance.”

She had rehearsed this request a billion times in her mind, and all things considered she was satisfied with the result; her voice had sounded polite but firm, and she had made her intentions pretty clear while also reassuring Gold that she wasn’t trying to replace him or his ex-wife. She was expecting to see some kind of reaction in him, a sign of acceptance or denial, but his expression remained stressfully blank as he pondered her words. He was looking at her strangely, as if he were trying to see through her.

“So I’m guessing there’s no amount of money that could persuade you to disappear again?” he asked eventually.

For a moment, Belle was so shocked that she believed she’d misheard. He couldn’t be trying to do this, not really.

“I’m sorry?” was all she managed to say, part of her nervousness disappearing in the face of her mounting disdain. 

“You see, you wouldn’t be the first to try this trick. Birthparents reappear, they play nice for a while, and when the adoptive parents start feeling threatened by their presence they ask for a nice check in exchange for their absence. Or maybe you just realized that you’d be better off financially if you tagged along with my family, and are willing to put up with Gideon for that. If that’s the case, I’d rather pay you now than let Gideon get attached and then suffer when you reveal yourself for who you truly are. Name a sum, and we’ll have a deal,” he explained, his eyes still fixed on her, careful to catch her reaction. He really shouldn’t have bothered; even a blind man would have noticed the shock and horror in her expression. 

“I’m not that kind of person. I don’t care who you are or how big of a sum you can give me. The life I have I built it myself, with no help, and I certainly don’t need yours now. I want what I couldn’t have thirteen years ago: I want my son.”

Belle was almost surprised by the resolution in her voice, but she barely had time to revel in her newfound determination, because Gold’s scowl suddenly deepened. 

“That’s where you’re wrong. He’s not your son, not anymore, as even you have pointed out,” he hissed, looking so threatening that Belle was tempted to take a step back. “He’s mine, and so far you’ve given precious little reason for me to let you anywhere near him again. You say you have good intentions, but your actions say the contrary. You’re the one who tossed him away and never looked back. You’re the one that’s causing him to lie and run away, all things he had never done before. Maybe you don’t want money, and maybe you think you want to be a mother, but how do I know you won’t just play the part of the cool parent for a while and disappear the moment things get rough? You’ve done it before, after all, and I won’t let Gideon be hurt again.” 

At some point during his rant, something inside of Belle snapped. His accusations, so wrong yet so similar to the voices she heard in her nightmares, brought out feelings she had barely known were simmering inside of her. When thinking of what she’d done, she was used to shame and guilt, but this time all she felt was rage. Rage at life, at how stupid she’d been, and more than anything at all those people who - just like Gold - thought they knew everything, when they understood nothing.

“How dare you?” she asked him, taking one step forward so that they were almost face to face. “How dare you make assumptions about me when you know nothing. You don’t know what it was like. You don’t know how hard it was for me. You have no idea of what it is like to hold your son, that you love more than anything, and then hand him over to a stranger because you can’t take care of him. You don’t know. Years ago I let other people force me to walk out of his life, but this time is different. If you want to keep me away from Gideon you’ll have to step over my dead body, because this time I’m fighting tooth and nail for him.”

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so furious and so alive. Her words, her indignation felt so right, and she was frustrated by how unaffected Gold was by the whole thing. She felt as though she could incinerate him with a single look, and yet here he stood, impassable to the storm raging inside of her. She hated it. 

“So, you’re not going to say anything?” she prompted him, needing an answer, ready to fight. 

“Well, I’m not going to give you visitation rights or schedule for Gideon to come over here,” he started off, gesturing at her to let him continue when she tried to protest. “But at the same time Gideon is old enough to decide whether he wants to hear from you or not. As long as he’s okay with it, you two can keep in touch in whatever way he wishes. If he wants to meet you, however, I want to be informed, and if I decide I’d rather be present for the encounter you won’t object. And God help you if I ever find out you’re causing Gideon to lie or run away again. You only get one chance at this, Miss French, and I’m not a forgiving man. If you blow this, if you cause Gideon any harm, I’ll tear you and your life apart piece by piece.”

Belle was so relieved that she thought she might faint. The weight that had been pressing on her chest since she was sixteen had suddenly been lifted; at long last, she could be with her son. 

“Thank you, thank you so much. I promise you won’t regret this,” she vowed, barely restraining herself from hugging him; she had a feeling he wouldn’t appreciate that. “What about his mother? I’ll need her approval as well, do you think she’ll be okay with this?”

Gold looked surprised for a moment, as if he hadn’t been expecting Milah to be involved, then shook his head. “You don’t have to worry about Milah, I’ll talk to her. If I were you, I’d keep out of her line of sight as much as possible; she doesn’t like competition, and she will see you as a rival for Gideon’s affection. She’ll have to accept this situation for Gideon’s sake, but that does not mean she’ll like it, and she could turn quite nasty on you,” Gold warned her. He seemed to be looking at her differently now, still distant but much less wary, and definitely no longer angry or disgusted. The fact that he was even going out of his way to help her deal with his ex-wife felt nearly surreal. 

“Do you really think she’ll be that upset? The last thing I want is to bring conflict into Gideon’s life.” 

“As you might have noticed, there’s conflict between Gideon and Milah already. Strangely enough, your presence might just be the thing Milah needs to realize she needs to fix things between them,” Gold reassured her. “I still suggest you limit your phonecalls to Gideon when he’s at her place though. He would normally be staying with her here in Boston now that it’s summer, but after everything that happened Milah and I agreed it would be better if he moved back to Storybrooke a bit sooner than anticipated. He’ll be with her every other weekend for the duration of the school year, plus the occasional holiday.”

Belle took mental notes of all of that, thanking him again. She still couldn’t believe all of this was truly happening. 

“Now that we’ve reached an agreement on your situation with Gideon, I have to ask you if there’s any chance of his father showing up as well,” Gold asked after a beat of silence, and the question sounded so absurd to Belle’s ears that she couldn’t help but let out a humorless laugh.

“Believe me, I’d be the most surprised if he did. The only time we ever spoke of my pregnancy he suggested I terminate it. I’m not even sure he knows I gave Gideon up for adoption, and I haven’t seen him in over a decade. The chances of him finding Gideon are abysmal, and the chances of him caring about him are even below that. I wouldn’t worry about the father if I were you.”

The heartbreak Gary had caused her had faded through the years, but the sheer disgust at the person he was had only increased. Now, as a grown woman, she fully understood just how vile he had been, how slyly he had taken advantage of her, and she pitied her younger self for ever falling for him. 

“Looks like there is someone out there who deserved my anger after all. I’m sorry I thought that was you,” Gold said, something dangerous flickering inside his eyes. He was angry, but not at her, and it was a nice change. She remembered the threat he had made, how he’d destroy her and her life if she ever hurt Gideon, and in that moment she knew that’s exactly what he would do to Gary if she ever gave him his name. For a second, she was tempted to do just that, but there was too much at stake to indulge in vengeance. Messing with Gary could lead him to Gideon, and that was the last thing she wanted; for her son’s sake, her past had to stay in the past. 

“I’ll be going then. Everything is settled and I have a long drive ahead of me,” Gold said, moving towards the door. 

“Can I offer you anything? A cup of tea maybe, or I could make you a sandwich for the trip,” she offered again. She owed him more than she’d ever be able to say, but a sandwich was as good a place to start as any. 

“There’s really no need. Goodbye, Miss French.”

The door closed behind him, and Belle stared at it for a few seconds, still struggling to believe the past half-hour hadn’t been a dream. He had said yes. She felt like laughing and crying at the same time, yet she couldn’t bring herself to do either. Suddenly, she realized she had to tell Gideon about this. He had been so worried and ready to fight his dad on this, but there would be no need, and she was so happy she could give him good news. She grabbed her phone and, for the first time, called her son’s number. Today started their second chance. 

________________________________________________________________________________

By the time October rolled around, Belle was the happiest person in the world. After her encounter with Gold, things with Gideon had gone wonderfully, and her treasured collection of photos of him was growing rapidly. One of her favorites, that she had printed and framed, was the one she’d taken the first time she’d gone to Storybrooke, on Gideon’s first day of high school. It had been the first milestone of his life she’d been present for, and it had been hard to hide her tears as he hugged her before entering school. Another photo she kept in her wallet at all times, and just looking at it could brighten even the worst day.

She’d felt ill at ease in Storybrooke at first. In a quiet little town like that, a normal visitor was bound to be noticed, but being Gideon’s birthmother had put her directly at the center of the town’s gossip for a while. Gideon had been key to overcoming that; he’d been so obviously overjoyed at having her there, and so proud to be seen with her, that for the first time she’d forgotten to think of other people’s judgment. It didn’t always work, of course, but she liked to think she was getting better at it. 

One of the first things Gideon had shown her in Storybrooke was the library: it was closed, unfortunately, but the ladder that went to the clocktower on top of it was still usable, and Belle found herself loving the view of the town from up there just as much as Gideon did.

“The mayor shut the library down years ago, but I’ll have it reopened. I’ll be the librarian and have all kind of initiatives: reading groups, writing groups, Harry Potter themed events, everything. I’ll make this part of the library too: this place was made to be a reading nook. Everybody is going to love it.” he had told her, gesturing vaguely around him as if he could already see the finished work.  

“I feel like you’ve been planning this for a while, haven’t you?”

“Ever since I read Matilda as a kid. I even have a notebook on which I write every idea for this place. I don’t usually talk about this to people. I want to keep it a secret from dad, because he knows the mayor and I’m sure he could get the place reopened in a matter of minutes, but I want to do it myself.” he had said, still bubbling with enthusiasm. Then his expression had turned uncertain “Do you think it’s silly?”

“No, not at all. I always wanted to be a librarian as well,” Belle had said, stepping away from the window. “It’s nice to see you want the same.”

“Then why aren’t you one? Is it… is it because you got pregnant with me?” he had asked hesitantly.

Gideon had never asked her why she’d given him up, and she had never been brave enough to bring the matter up. Still, she could feel the need to know simmering inside of him, and every time he asked her something about her past she could feel the biggest, most dreaded question drawing a bit closer.  

“No, absolutely not,” she had answered truthfully. “I started working right after high school, but I went to university afterwards. I’m not a librarian simply because it’s hard to find a librarian position, especially one that is decently paid. It’s a good thing that you’ve already found the perfect place to work at, isn’t it?”

Bringing Gideon’s attention back to his dream had distracted him and lightened the atmosphere, and for that day she hadn’t had to deal with any more hard questions. The idea of telling him about her past scared her more than it should have. Gideon had known she’d given him up for adoption, and yet he came looking for her, so he clearly had made some sort of peace with that. Yet the idea of telling him about his father - or hers, for that matter - felt so wrong. She didn’t want him to know how evil some people could be, and she wanted even less to admit how she’d let people like them defeat her, cornering her to the point where she had to give up the most precious thing in her life. She was ashamed to admit to her son that she’d let other people tear them apart. 

Gradually, the colorful autumn leaves were replaced by the first flurries of snow, and as Christmas drew closer Belle learned with a little disappointment that she wouldn’t see Gideon for Christmas, as she’d secretly hoped. 

“I’m staying with my mom… well, my other mom. Even if I’m supposed to spend half the holidays with her, she generally lets me go back to dad’s place if I want, but this year she insisted we spend some time together. Sorry,” Gideon explained on the phone.

Belle was glad he couldn’t see her face, so she didn’t have to hide her sadness. Rationally, she knew it was only a good thing if Gideon spent more time with Milah and mended the complicated relationship he had with her, but a little part of her couldn’t help but feel jealous. Given that she wouldn’t be spending her Christmas with Gideon, she accepted to switch shifts with Tiana at the restaurant and work on Christmas day. The day was every bit as chaotic as they expected, and Belle was so busy that she almost didn’t notice the group that had just sat at a nearby table.

Neal spotted her the same moment she saw him. His eyes grew wide in surprise, then he  abruptly turned around and stared at the woman in front of him with such rage that Belle was surprised Milah didn’t catch fire on the spot. She either didn’t notice his death glare or didn’t care about it, because she kept chatting with the man beside her as if nothing had happened. Beside Neal, still oblivious to everything, sat Gideon.

Belle scurried away from the table, thankful that it was not her responsibility but Cecelia’s, but still painfully aware that she wouldn’t be able to hide her presence from them for long. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn’t mind Gideon being there; she worked at a fancy restaurant like any other, and she would be glad to just be able to say hi in between serving tables. The problem was Milah. Even if Belle could have given her the benefit of the doubt, Neal’s stare accused her; Milah hadn’t just casually stumbled upon the same restaurant Belle worked at, she had planned this, but to what purpose Belle couldn’t tell. She doubted, however, that Milah’s intentions were entirely innocent. 

Belle tried to carry on as if nothing was happening, but not even five minutes had gone by before she heard Gideon exclaim: “Mom?”

“Yes, dear, what do you want?” Milah answered, sporting a sickeningly sweet smile. 

For a moment, Belle thought Gideon was about to make a scene. For a moment, so did Gideon. He realized, however, that there would be no point in doing so: if Milah was doing this on purpose, as he strongly suspected, calling her out on it would just give her a chance to attack Belle directly. If this was a mere coincidence, or if Milah knew his birthmother worked here but didn’t know her face, making a scene would only point her in the right direction. So he bit back the angry remark that had been on the tip of his tongue, and tried to carry on as if nothing were happening. 

It was hands down the worst Christmas any of them could remember, except for Milah and her boyfriend - Keith, if Belle remembered his name right - who seemed to be having the time of their lives. They tried to call Belle to their table more than once, dissipating once and for all any doubts on the coincidence of the whole thing. Belle thanked all of her lucky stars that Cecelia was always quick to intervene, because Milah seemed to be determined to make things as complicated and uncomfortable as possible: she changed her order several times and found literally every excuse to complain, which was just the cherry on top of the already busy Christmas lunch. By the time the four of them finally left the restaurant, Belle didn’t know whether to feel relieved or angry. Gold had warned her that Milah wasn’t the nicest person around, but purposefully ruining her son’s Christmas just to spite his birthmother was simply too much. 

That day set a distinct change in the family dynamics. After a long discussion with Gold - who once again wanted to deal with Milah on his own - they decided to confront Milah together. The meeting was one of the most unpleasant experiences Belle had ever had. Milah had a particular talent for getting under her skin, alternating between shouting and whispering viciously as she brought up all the things that hurt Belle the most: how she had abandoned Gideon, how she wasn’t his real mother, how she wasn’t worthy of him. It took all of Belle’s willpower to keep herself together, but what really shocked her was how easily Milah could hurt Gold as well. Despite his attempts, he couldn’t quite hide his flinch whenever his former wife spat hateful words at him, and even if his remarks were just as cutting as hers, they lacked that particular, unsettling cruelty. 

Milah eventually had to cave in when Gold threatened to bring this to a judge and let them decide whether or not Milah still deserved to see Gideon after what she’d done. She gave Belle the more insincere apology she could muster, and promised she’d never again do something like that. Belle found it very hard to believe her, and even though this technically counted as a win on hers and Gold’s part, Milah’s words had taken such a toll on them that she just couldn’t shake the feeling of having been defeated.

“Do you have to head back home straight away? I think we could both use a warm drink right now,” Belle suggested, pointing at a coffee shop nearby. 

Gold glanced back at his parked car, clearly weighing the options. 

“Okay,” he said eventually, surprising her. 

The place was crowded, as was to be expected on such a cold day, but luckily they found a free table in one corner and ordered two teas.

“I’ll never understand how you don’t freeze to death dressed like that,” Gold said as she took off her coat, revealing clothes that he would have seen more fit for spring. Late spring. 

“Well, I’ll never understand how you’re not sweating to death when dressed like that. You remind me of a girl I once shared an apartment with; we were constantly arguing over the heating, and eventually she moved out.”

“It’s a good thing we don’t live together then,” he joked, immediately regretting it. What if she took it as an insult? Luckily, Belle giggled. 

“It is. We’d come to hate each other within a week.”

He was surprised by how much the thought of not being friends with Belle anymore hurt him. He’d started out hating her, being scared of her, and yet after talking to her just a handful of times his feelings had completely changed. Belle had a way of making him feel at ease that very few people possessed, and the fact that he was smiling so shortly after meeting Milah was proof of that.

“I’m sorry. For all the things Milah said to you, I mean. She really shouldn’t have done that;” he said, feeling the need to make up for his ex-wife’s behavior. 

“Yes, she was… harsh. Is she always like this, or did I strike a nerve?”

What she’d really wanted to ask was ‘Is she always like this with you?’, because Belle couldn’t truly believe that her presence could make someone turn so viciously against their former husband. That question, however, would have been too direct and would have looked like prying. 

“You didn’t do anything, at least not intentionally. I think you’re dealing with Gideon wonderfully, but she refuses to see past her wounded ego. She was always extremely… fierce, but I think I bring out the worst in her. I’m sorry you had to witness that.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for. You did nothing to deserve such treatment: she is in the wrong.”

He smiled a bit sadly at her, like he appreciated her words but didn’t truly believe them. Their teas arrived in that moment, distracting them for a moment and giving Belle a chance to change the subject. 

“You know, this is incredibly awkward to admit, but I’ve just realized I don’t know your first name. Maybe Gideon told me at first and then I forgot, I’m not sure, but he only calls you ‘dad’ and everyone else calls you ‘Mr. Gold’ and so it… it kind of slipped my mind.”

Under literally any other circumstance she would have died rather than admit this, but it was the only thing that had come to her mind that could distract him from his former wife. 

“No apologies needed. I don’t really like my name, so I try to have it as little known as possible,” he explained. 

“Could I maybe shorten it, or use a nickname? I feel strange calling you by surname.”

Milah had called him ‘Rum’, would he be offended if she used it?

“I’m not going to be weirded out if you keep calling me by surname, but if you prefer to use my name I guess ‘Rumple’ will do. Just don’t use it too much when we’re in Storybrooke and other people can hear us: I have a fearsome reputation to maintain.”

She raised a disbelieving eyebrow at that, and he smirked over the rim of his teacup. 

“What, you don’t believe me?”

“I have a hard time imagining a town that keeps being scared of you after seeing how loving you are with your kids. I saw you trying to hold back your tears when Gideon started high school,” she remarked, taking a sip of her own tea. 

“You’ll be surprised by how much people refuse to see once they’ve formed their opinion on someone. I’m not saying I’m lenient with late payments, but I’m not nearly as ruthless as I once was, yet my reputation stays unchanged. Still, I don’t want to endanger it more than necessary.”

“Fine, I’ll only use it in case of emergency, I promise,” she conceded in mock seriousness. 

Her smile seemed to warm him more than the tea had, and there was a beat of silence as Gold mused over his next words. 

“You know, I was thinking… Gideon’s birthday is coming in less than two months and your birthday is only two days later, so I was wondering if you’d like to come to Storybrooke for those days, and maybe stay a little longer than usual, so that you and Gideon can celebrate together. I know he’d love that, but I haven’t told him anything yet so that he doesn’t get his hopes up in case you can’t come…” he felt incredibly stupid asking her this, and he couldn’t quite tell why. He just wasn’t sure of who she was to him anymore, and how he should act around her. Were they co-parents? Acquaintances? Or were they becoming friends? 

“I’d love to,” she replied, making him momentarily forget about his doubts. “I’ll have to make sure I can take those days off from work, but I don’t think there will be any problems.”

“Good. Do you want me to tell Gideon or do you want it to be a surprise?”

“No, tell him, it’s nice to have something to look forward to.”

She surely would be counting the hours until then.

“Thank you,” she added after a moment. “Really, thank you so much for everything you’ve done and you’re still doing for Gideon and me. You had every reason to be wary of me, but you listened to me and gave me a chance, and I’ll never be able to repay you for that.”

“You being there for Gideon and making him happy is payment enough,” he said immediately. “The only people you have to thank are Gideon and yourself: him because he’s the one who gave you a second chance, and you because you didn’t waste it. I merely supervised at first.”

Belle smiled gratefully at him, and their conversation flowed freely after that. Nearly an hour later, when Gold finally made it back to his car, the thought of Milah and her cruel words couldn’t have been more distant from their minds. 

**********

The sky was thankfully clear when Belle drove into Storybrooke on the 9th of February, but there was snow piled up at the side of the streets, and the promise of more to come in the following days. She’d be staying in Storybrooke for a whole week, and she was beside herself with excitement. If fourteen years prior somebody had told her where she’d be now, she wouldn’t have believed it. She made a quick stop at Granny’s B&B to leave her suitcase and take a shower, then walked to Gold’s house. She had to be extra careful, because there were thin patches of ice on the sidewalk and she risked slipping more than once.

Gideon had been staring anxiously out of the window ever since Belle had texted to say that she was at the B&B. When he saw her, he screamed “SHE’S HERE” at the top of his lungs, and all but flung himself out of the house to go hug her. 

“Don’t run!” Gold warned him as he hastened to follow him. “There’s ice on the ground…”

He had barely finished talking when he felt his good leg slip out from under him. All of his weight went on the bad one, already in pain from the cold, and a moment later he was falling hard on his backside, every bone in his body screaming in pain.

Belle and Gideon rushed to his side, their eyes wide with fear, talking over each other in their haste to ask him if he was okay. 

“I’ve been better,” he replied gruffly. He reached for his cane, grimacing at the sight of his bruised hand, but when he tried to get back on his feet pain shot through his right leg, making him lose his balance again. It was only thanks to Gideon and Belle supporting him that he avoided a second fall. Sitting again on the cold ground was far from pleasant, but it was all he could do for now. He pulled the right leg of his pants up, and took a look at his prosthesis. The stupid thing seemed to be fine, but the point where his knee connected with it hurt like hell. It wasn’t unusual for it to hurt, but not to this level.

“Gid, could you go grab my crutches? I don’t think I can manage it with the cane,” he had to admit. He wanted to get back inside as soon as possible, both to change clothes and to avoid being seen like this by any passers-by, but he’d never liked using the crutches. He was especially bugged by the idea of letting Belle see him like this, hurt and unable to even stand on his feet. She was smiling worriedly at him, clearly trying not to stare at his prosthesis, and he appreciated her effort. The silence between them stretched awkwardly, and he was wondering if he should try to say something when his son reappeared.

“I called Whale. He’s at the hospital now, but his shift is about to end and he said he’ll be here in half an hour,” Gideon said, handing him the crutches. 

Gold nodded, too focused on keeping his balance to speak. His bedroom was on the first floor, but there was no way he could manage the stairs now, so he settled himself in one of the guest bedrooms downstairs. Gideon brought him a change of clothes, while Belle made tea for everyone, and later insisted on disinfecting the cuts on his hands. 

“I told you I can do it on my own,” he protested again as she took one of his hands in hers. 

“I know, but it will be much easier and quicker if I do it,” she said, stubbornly refusing to let go of his hand even as the sting of the disinfectant made him squirm. “I know it hurts, but if you move it’s going to take even longer to finish.”

“Sorry. I’m just… not used to having someone do things for me,” he admitted after a moment, carefully weighing his words.

“Oh, I know the feeling, believe me. Do you want me to leave you alone? I just wanted to help, I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything,” she made to move, but he gestured at her to stay.

“I’ll get used to it,” he said as an explanation. It was technically rude to say it that way, but Belle took it for the ‘thank you’ it actually was and smiled at him. 

“We’ll both have to. As I said, I’m used to being alone too.”

“Thank you,” he said as she finished bandaging his hand. “For this, for your patience, for everything. You just got here and you have to take care of me. I really didn’t want your vacation to start like this.”

“Well, that’s one of the perks of getting used to having other people around: you don’t have to deal with problems alone anymore. I’m here to stay, and not only on the good days,” she concluded with a smile. 

When she said it like this, it sounded almost easy. He was still processing her words when Gideon announced Whale’s arrival, relieving him of the embarrassment to come up with a reply that was at least one tenth as significative as Belle’s words had been. 

All in all, Whale told him he’d been lucky. He hadn’t broken any bones nor suffered any serious damage, but his knee was inflamed and Whale recommended not to wear his prosthesis for the next few days if he didn’t want to make things worse. In Gold’s opinion, that was far from being lucky, but he seemed to be the only one in the house to think so. After Whale left, he found himself in a heated discussion with Belle and Gideon on whether or not he should hire someone to help him through the following days. 

“I’m perfect capable of taking care of myself without help, case closed,” he snapped.

“I know, but what if you fall again? We have lots of things planned for the next few days, and there’s still snow outside. You can’t lock yourself up in the house, and I can’t pick you up if you’re too hurt to do it yourself. I’m just worried, that’s all,” his son replied stubbornly, his expression so similar to Belle’s that Gold nearly felt like laughing, despite how nervous he was. 

“Rumple, I’m sure you know your limits, and I’m not trying to impose anything on you, but Gideon has a point, and I don’t want you to risk anything just because you want to do everything on your own,” Belle said, clearly trying to keep the discussion form escalating. 

“Then trust me when I say I’m perfectly capable of managing my life without a stranger following me around and taking care of me as if I were a kid,” he replied drily.

“Well, if having a stranger around is the problem, we could ask Belle to stay here and help you,” Gideon suggested then. 

“WHAT?” the exclamation of surprise came from both of them at the same time, and if they’d been a little less shocked they would have probably found that fact very funny. 

“I just thought… we’ll be with Belle most of the time anyway, so why not? You two already know each other, so I think you wouldn’t be as snappy with her as you’d be with a stranger, and she would probably be less strict than a real nurse, so you wouldn’t feel like you’re being babysat. I thought it could be a nice compromise,” Gideon explained, staring at his father as if daring him to contradict him. 

“Belle came here to spend time with you, not to be my nurse,” Gold replied patiently. “You can’t expect people to change their plans because it suits you.”

“I mean, it’s not like I would mind, I just… I’m not sure I’d know what to do, or if you’d even be comfortable with having me around all the time,” Belle interjected.

Gold turned to look at her, even more surprised than he’d been by Gideon’s words: he’d been so sure that she wouldn’t accept that he’d completely forgot to ask her what she thought of it. In a way, he’d made the same mistake Gideon had. 

“I… I don’t want to bother you,” he repeated somewhat weakly.

“Well, you also said you don’t even need that much help. I’d be happy to help you if it makes Gideon feel safer, but I won’t insist if you don’t want me around all the time.”

“Fine,” he conceded at last. “I’d much rather have you around than a stranger.”

“She can take the spare bedroom upstairs!” Gideon exclaimed, beside himself with excitement. “This is going to be an awesome week!”

“No one has ever been so happy about me getting hurt,” Gold chuckled after sending Gideon to prepare Belle’s room.  

“Can you imagine his outrage if I had been the one to get hurt and you hadn’t agreed to let me stay here right away? I can almost see it.”

“We should suggest he joins a theatre group or something, he does have a penchant for drama.”

Belle agreed, and they traded silly quips for a little while before Belle went back to collect her bags from Granny’s. As she settled into her room, she couldn’t help but think that Gideon was right: this was going to be one awesome week. 

**********

As expected, more snow fell during the following three days, and that forced Gideon to change plans for his birthday. He had been planning to spend most of the day out with his two best friends and celebrate at dinner with Belle, Gold and Neal (who had arrived from Boston the day after Belle), but the prohibitive weather forced him to spend the day indoors, with his friends just barely managing to get to his house without freezing their noses off. Neal seemed to find it hilarious that one of Gideon’s friends was also named Neal, and spent the entire day making jokes about that. Everyone seemed to find it funny, except maybe Gideon, who seemed strangely tense at times. Robin and Neal ended up staying for dinner as well, so that they were all together when Gideon finally got to open his presents. Everyone’s gift seemed to be just perfect for him, and Belle felt her nervousness rise as she handed him hers. She had gotten to know him so much during the past few months, but she knew she still had so much to learn. What if her present was the only one he didn’t like?

“I wonder what it could possibly be,” Gideon joked as he started unwrapping what was clearly a book. “Her Handsome Hero? I’ve never heard of this one!”

He seemed happy enough about it, and Belle breathed a sigh of relief. 

“It’s a retelling of a fairytale I used to love as a kid. I thought that since you like fantasy you might like it,” she explained. 

“Thanks, I’m sure I’ll love it.”

She’d wondered if she was considering her own tastes rather than Gideon’s in buying the present, but she had wanted her first gift to him to be something meaningful and, all things considered, she was happy with her choice. Gideon and his friends played video games for a little while more before it was time for Robin and Neal to go. Belle drove them to their respective homes, and even if Storybrooke was small it took her a long time to get back home, because it had started snowing again and she had to proceed almost ridiculously slowly. 

The first thing she noticed as she stepped inside, still shivering a bit from the cold, was a stream of muffled curses coming from the kitchen. A clear idea of what was happening immediately formed in her mind, and she strode towards the noise, not knowing if she should be more worried or angry. 

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?” she whispered angrily at Gold, not wanting Gideon to hear them. 

“What does it look like?” he bit back, but there was a hint of guilt in his eyes. He’d put his prosthesis back on, and was in the process of tidying up the kitchen. Everything about his demeanor screamed that he was in pain, yet he stood stubbornly to face her, trying to hide the way he had to lean on the sink. 

“I could have done this! It’s what I’m here for!” she reminded him. 

“No, you’re here to spend time with your son. You don’t have to waste your time being my caretaker.”

“For God’s sake, I thought we’d already talked about this!” Belle burst out, walking towards the crutches he’d abandoned in the corner. “Take that thing off before Gideon hears us and go to bed.”

“No.”

She was on the verge of screaming, but then she noticed something in his expression, something that went beyond simple stubbornness.

“Rumple, what’s wrong?” she asked, closing the distance between them, her voice turning softer. “You seemed to be doing fine, and now you do this. Did something happen? Did I do something?”

He looked around, as if searching for an excuse to avoid the conversation. 

“It’s not easy to explain,” he muttered eventually. 

“Well, I have time and patience, so try as much as you want,” she replied sitting down on a chair, and gesturing at him to do the same. He limped towards the table and let out a sigh of relief as he sat down heavily in front of her. 

“Just for the record, where are Neal and Gideon? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable by having you open up when your kids could walk in at any moment.”

“I told Neal to go upstairs and make sure Gideon doesn’t stay up all night reading. Not that it works, but they generally start talking and end up falling asleep in the same bed at some time past two am. Their faces tomorrow morning are going to be hilarious.”

No matter how upset Gold was, talking about his children always lightened his mood, and once again that sight made Belle smile. 

“Good. So, can you tell me now what’s going on?” Belle tried again, laying one hand over Gold’s in what she hoped was a comforting gesture. 

“I just… I don’t see how it’s fair that you should do all the work when you’re the guest. I should do better,” he said, not quite looking at her.

“But you’re hurt!”

“And that’s my fault! I should have been more careful, and you shouldn’t have to pay for my mistake,” he insisted, and Belle suddenly had the feeling that he wasn’t really talking to her. Of course, he was saying those words to her, but this wasn’t the first time he’d said them, and she wasn’t the one who made him feel like this. 

“Does it have something to do with Milah?” she asked, and it shocked him so much that he actually looked at her for the first time since the discussion started. 

“What?”

“Did she make you feel like your disability was your fault?” she insisted, and from the way he looked at her, she had truly gotten to the heart of the problem. 

“She never called me disabled” he murmured after a while. “Useless cripple was the most common expression. Or something along the lines.”

“That’s horrible.”

She’d heard Milah say something about his leg and his illness during their discussion after Christmas, but without context it had been just one amongst the many insults she’d thrown at him.

“She… she didn’t like it when I got sick. She was pregnant with Neal when I was diagnosed with bone cancer. With a baby on the way she couldn’t deal with my sickness as well, especially when it lead to the amputation I tried my best to help her as much as I could, but there wasn’t much I could do at first, and the sickness caused by the chemo didn’t help. I thought I could fix things once I had healed, but then we found out that the treatment had left me sterile. I think that was the real end of her feelings for me, even though it took me a lot longer to realize it.”

“What happened after that?” Belle asked softly. She didn’t want to pry, but she could feel he needed to talk about this.

“Once I was sure my cancer wasn’t coming back, I talked Milah into adopting. My inability to have any more children had upset both of us, and I was sure that adopting was the solution. We could be happy again, Neal would have a much wanted sibling, and a kid would get a loving home. I thought it was a win-win scenario.”

He’d been so enamored with the idea of having another child that he’d projected that wish onto his wife. Now he realized that Milah had been upset mostly because she saw his sterility as another failing on his part, not because she was desperate to have more kids. 

“And I suppose that’s when Gideon came into your lives,” Belle prompted him, trying and failing not to imagine a younger Gold holding a newborn Gideon. It was an image that hurt her in more ways than she could count. 

“Yes. I loved him from the moment I saw him. After all I had been through, I was finally back to health and with not one, but two little kids to spoil rotten. Being with them was like heaven.”

He paused for a moment, fidgeting as he looked for the right words and the courage to carry on with the story. 

“Milah, however, wasn’t as happy as I’d hoped. She’d never been overly maternal with Neal, but I never had any doubt that she loved him. With Gideon, however, I started to wonder. I mean, I think she loved him, that she still does, but… she just can’t see him as equal to Neal.”

He’d whispered the last words so quietly that, despite being so close, Belle had to lean towards him to understand them.

“I think he knows. I don’t know when he started to realize it, but he’s a clever kid, he was bound to notice it someday.” 

Belle was biting her lower lip, not sure what to say. She was angry at Milah, but was she in any position to judge her? 

“Despite all of this, I couldn’t bring myself to end things with her. We were almost completely avoiding each other by that point, and I’m pretty sure she had more than one affair through the years, but I didn’t want to upset my children with a divorce. I thought I’d just hold on until they were old enough to deal with it, but Milah beat me to it. Four years ago I woke up and she was simply gone. She left a note saying that she was leaving, but she didn’t leave an address, and she wouldn’t answer my calls. After a day or two she texted Neal to tell him she was sorry and that she would soon file for divorce and a custody agreement, and only when her lawyer contacted me I found out she was in Boston with her most recent lover.”

“Listen,” Belle said once his tale was over. “I can only imagine how much all of this must have hurt, how much it still hurts. All I know is that I’m not her. I’m not going to walk away when you’re sick, or if you make a mistake, or you fail to meet some stupid standard. I’m with you, and not just because you’re Gideon’s father, but because we’re friends.” 

For a moment, she’d been on the verge of saying ‘family’, but she didn’t think either of them was ready for that. ‘Friends’ was a much safer option. 

“No matter what happens, I’m not going away,” she reassured him again. 

“No one,” he said, taking a shaky breath, “No one has ever said that to me. Least of all my wife.”

He looked on the verge of tears, and it came so naturally to Belle to wrap her arms around him, offering the comfort he so clearly needed. He all but sank into her hug, breathing heavily against her shoulder, clearly fighting back tears. They stood like that for a while, with one of her hands gently petting his hair, calming him, and despite their closeness and the silence the situation didn’t grow awkward. When he eventually pulled back, he looked more in control of himself. He opened his mouth to talk, but Belle stopped him before he could utter a single word.

“If you’re going to apologize, please don’t.”

He closed his mouth then, looking both annoyed and amused by how well she could read him. 

“Just take the prosthesis off and go to bed. I can bring you your painkillers if you want.”

“Yes, I think I’m going to need them,” he conceded, reaching for the crutches. 

Having to use the crutches didn’t stop him from doing most things, but it significantly slowed him down, so several minutes passed before he was finally ready to get into bed. He was waiting for his painkillers to kick in when he heard Belle leaving the kitchen and heading upstairs.

“Goodnight,” he said as she passed his door.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be still awake. Did I make too much noise?” she asked, still on the other side of the closed door. 

“No, I just can’t sleep right now.” There was no need to tell her he was in fact in pain. 

“May I come in?” she asked, surprising him. 

“Yes, of course. Is everything okay?” he said as she stepped inside. 

“Yes, I just… I wanted to talk to you about something, but if it’s too late we can wait until tomorrow. It’s nothing urgent.”

“As I said, I’m not sleepy. We have time to talk right now,” he said, gesturing at her to come closer. She sat on the edge of the bed, looking just a tad nervous. 

“Did you notice something strange about Gideon today?” 

The question immediately sent his brain into panic mode, but he couldn’t recall anything that had caught his attention.

“No, he seemed like his usual self,” he replied carefully. 

“Maybe he was. I just thought he looked a bit tense, so I kept an eye on him, and… I think he might have a crush,” she concluded. 

“On Robin?” It was something he really hadn’t seen coming, but it was hardly something worth worrying over. 

“On Neal.” 

There was a beat of silence after Belle’s reply, and she worried her lower lip with her teeth as she waited to see Gold’s reaction. She didn’t think he was the kind of man who would be upset by the idea of having a gay son, but one could never be sure. Right as she was about to ask him to speak, for God’s sake, he did something that completely shocked her:  he laughed. 

“What?” she asked once his laughter died down, not sure of what exactly was going on.

“I’m sorry, it’s just that… life apparently has a strange sense of humor.”

“I’m still not following you.”

“You’re right,” he sighed, gathering up his courage, “Apparently tonight is a night of confessions, and please know that I can count on my fingers the number of people who know what I’m about to say to you. I’m bisexual.”

Of all the things Belle had been expecting, this wasn’t one of them. 

“The day I told my father this, he dropped me at my aunts’ house and never came back. I mean, it’s not like he was fond of me before: Rumplestiltskin is not a name you give to a kid you love, after all, but after that even keeping a roof over my head became too much. It wasn’t easy for me to accept my sexuality after that.” He looked up at her then, his eyes full of both pain and love. “I’m just glad I can give my son the support I never had.”

For the second time that night, Belle could do nothing but hug him. He’d been through so much, and despite what he wanted people to believe, he had stayed a kind man through it all. She held onto him tight, never wanting to let go. 

“You’re the best father I could have hoped for, for Gideon,” she said as she reluctantly pulled back. She wanted to say so much more, that he meant so much more to her, but she couldn’t bring herself to. Instead she got up from the bed, wished him goodnight, and scurried back to her room.

She closed the door, leaning heavily against it, and cursed herself and her furiously beating heart. She had caught feelings for her son’s father. Under normal circumstances, that would have been the normal thing, but this… this was a mess. She felt like crying and laughing at the same time. She wanted to cry because this was never going to work, and she wanted to laugh because it had been so long since she’d felt like this, since she’d trusted and respected and cared for someone so much. She got into bed, but couldn’t sleep for a long time. She kept thinking about Gold’s eyes, This week was either going to be the best of her life, or it was going to be the death of her.

**********

Two days later it was Belle’s turn to celebrate. She usually didn’t do much on her birthday, and getting to spend the day with her son and his family was already more than she’d ever expected, but Gideon went out of his way to celebrate for her. Someone (she suspected Gold, under Gideon’s direction) had hung streamers in the living room during the night, and during breakfast she learned that they’d made a reservation in Storybrooke’s nicest restaurant for lunch. The thing Gideon was clearly waiting for the most, however, was the moment when they got back home, when he deemed it was finally time to give her her present. 

“I won’t ask if you like it because I know you will!” He exclaimed proudly as he handed her a box. She opened it, and she was surprised to find a stack of papers. She was confused at first, but as she focused on what was written on those papers her confusion turned to shock. 

“It says here that I’m… the new Storybrooke librarian? What?” she asked, thinking it must be some kind of prank. 

“I told you my dad could have it reopened whenever he wanted! Now you can have the job of your dreams and move to Storybrooke, and we can be together whenever we want!” Gideon exclaimed, still oblivious to her growing discomfort. 

“Gid, listen,” she started off, not really knowing how to put it nicely. “This is incredible and thoughtful and it was kind of you to do this… but you should have asked me first.”

“You didn’t ask her?” Gold exclaimed, turning to stare at his son. “You told me you knew she was okay with this!”

“Well, she said she wanted to be a librarian! And I couldn’t directly ask her without ruining the surprise!” Gideon replied angrily, not understanding why he was being scolded for his great present.

“Then you shouldn’t have done this!” his father insisted. “You could have given her any other present, and then you could have talked about the library first. You shouldn’t have assumed she’d be okay with this.”

“Why are you two angry? I just wanted all of us to be together! Don’t you want to spend more time with me?” he asked Belle, looking at her with angry tears in his eyes. It was the first time she saw him angry at her, and it made her stomach churn. Still, she needed him to understand why she was just as upset as him. 

“Of course I do, Gid, but you can’t make decisions for me. Or for anyone else, for that matter. What you’re asking me to do is a really big change, and that’s not something I want to do without thinking about it first,” Belle tried to explain, but she could see that Gideon wasn’t truly listening to her reasons.

“You’re a liar! You just don’t want to see me!” he screamed, then ran upstairs.

“I’ll talk to him,” Neal said as he ran after his bother, leaving Belle and Gold alone with the weight of what had just happened. It was the first time Belle had argued with her son, and while she knew it was bound to happen sooner or later she still felt sick. 

“I’d like to say that it’s something you get used to, but it’s not true. It always hurts when they’re angry at you,” Gold told her honestly, sitting beside her on the couch. “I’m really sorry. I wouldn’t have let him go through with it had I known.”

“I’m sorry too. I know I probably overreacted. I mean, there’s nothing truly keeping me in Boston. Yes, I have friends there, but Gideon is more important right now, and I did always want to be a librarian. I just… I don’t react well when I feel people are trying to make decisions for me.” She’d had enough of that for a lifetime. 

“We all have our weak spots. Yours is being forced into things, Gideon’s is not feeling that he’s important to the people he cares about. Neal is really good at calming him down, though, I’m sure you two will be on good terms again before dinner,” he reassured her, and he was right. By the time she’d made and drank some tea, Neal had come downstairs to tell her she could go talk to Gideon if she wanted. 

It was easy to apologize to her son, but it was much harder to explain why she had reacted the way she had. At long last, she had to tell him something about his biological father and her own, and how they had both forced or tried to force her into a life she didn’t want. It was a painful tale for both of them, but they hugged at the end, and Gideon apologized as well. He called her ‘mom’ then, and it was at that moment she truly started crying. Despite the tears and the fight, that was the best birthday she’d ever had. 

Now that she didn’t feel like she was being pressured into things, she had to admit that the possibility of becoming Storybrooke’s librarian was amazing. She still wanted to think it over once she was back in Boston and not so emotional, but she doubted she’d find many reasons not to accept the offer. Surprisingly, her birthday had yet more emotions in store for her: the morning after, in fact, Gold gave her another gift, one that from the shape she initially mistook as a book. 

“I wanted to give it to you yesterday, but then I thought you already had enough to deal with in one day,” he said as she started unwrapping the paper. He had been right in his consideration, because the moment she realized what it was a sob tore itself from her throat. 

It was a photo album, and it was filled with pictures of Gideon, at all ages. From when he was just a newborn, so small that he was barely visible under his baby blanket, to his happy toothless smile when he was seven, to the last birthday he’d celebrated without her. It was all the life she hadn’t been there for, and that Gold was now sharing with her. 

“I picked the nicest, but there are more if you want. I just couldn’t fit them all in one album,” he explained as she turned the pages in awe. 

“I have one more,” she said, her voice hoarse with unshed tears. “From before this summer, I mean. When I was in the hospital I… I asked a nurse to take a picture of me with him before handing him over to social services. He was just minutes old. I… I can give you a copy if you want.”

She looked so fragile yet so strong, with her eyes full of tears as she offered to share with him a photo taken in such a painful moment, and he wanted to kiss her so badly that for a moment he had the impression that her gaze was lingering on his lips, as if she wanted to kiss him too. It was nonsense, of course, but it was such a tempting thought that he was relieved when she hugged him, because it hid her beautiful face from his view, giving him a moment to collect himself. If she really moved to Storybrooke, she was going to be the death of him. 

**********

Belle officially moved to the apartment above Storybrooke’s library at the end of March, and spent the entire month of April preparing for the library’s reopening, with Gideon helping her as often as he could, until one day she had to remind him that he was supposed to spend at least some of his afternoons studying if he ever wanted to become a librarian himself. He officially started dating Neal in May, and soon enough their lives settled into a new, pleasant rhythm that Belle could hardly believe was real. When one day Neal announced that he was coming over to dinner with Emma - Storybrooke’s deputy sheriff - it was like yet another piece of their family had finally found its place. 

“They’ve been in love since high school,” Gideon told Belle as they set the table, waiting for his brother and the woman Belle supposed would finally be presented as his girlfriend. “They broke up when school ended and he moved to Boston, but they were never truly over each other. At least Neal wasn’t. I’m so glad they’re finally together again because he’s insufferable when he’s lovesick. The first time they argued he wrote her a song and he kept practicing it for days and it was terrible.”

With Storybrooke being so small, Belle had met Emma several times already, and it didn’t take her long after her arrival to notice that both she and Neal were behaving strangely. She didn’t want to ruin dinner by asking, but her curiosity was soon satisfied when, before taking even the first bite, Neal said he had an announcement to make.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting married already!” Gideon joked, but Neal hardly smiled, which was incredibly unlike him. 

“Well, we are kinda speeding things up,” Emma admitted.

“Oh my God,” Gold whispered, putting two and two together and realizing what Neal was about to say. 

“What I’m trying to say is… dad, I’m pregnant,” Neal said, and it took him a moment to realize what he’d said in his agitation. “I mean, she is pregnant, of course. And no, this was not planned, and we’re not even actually dating, and I still have art school to finish, but we’re keeping it.”

Gold recovered surprisingly well from the shock, but spent the rest of the evening torn between feeling giddy at the idea of becoming a grandpa and wanting to strangle his son for being so incautious. It was a very awkward family dinner overall, and Belle really wasn’t sad when it was over. Despite her best attempts, the talk about babies and unexpected pregnancies had reawakened all sorts of bad memories for her, and had made her feel under the spotlight, a glaring bad example that everyone was too kind to point out. When Gold insisted on driving her back home, she felt a moment of pure panic and briefly wondered if he was going to blame her for being a bad influence on Neal. It was an absurd thought, of course, but she couldn’t help herself.

“How are you feeling?” he asked her instead as soon as they were in the car. 

“I’m fine,” she lied. “Why?”

“Because I saw you fidgeting at dinner, and I know what it means. No one is making comparisons between you and Emma, believe me.”

“But they’re keeping the baby while I…” she started off, but Gold immediately interrupted her. 

“You were seventeen, they’re twenty one. I doubt you were out of high school, while Emma has a full-time job and Neal a part-time one. It’s not the same,” he insisted. 

“I wanted to keep him. I wanted to be his mother and be there for his first steps, his first words, his first everything. I let him go and he found you and I’m glad, but I still let him go not knowing what would become of him,” she sobbed. No matter how much time passed, or however many days she spent with her son or how much she thought she’d healed, having abandoned him was a wound that would never stop bleeding. 

“Hey, hey, It’s alright, I’m here,” he whispered against her ear as he wrapped his arms around her. Only in that moment she realized that the car was no longer moving. “It wasn’t your fault. You told me so yourself. You wanted him, but were forced to let him go. It wasn’t your fault.”

“You don’t know… you weren’t there… I should have been stronger,” she hiccuped. Her sin was too big to be simply excused away. 

“Then why don’t you tell me? Tell me what happened and I’ll honestly tell you if it was your fault,” he suggested.

“I… I need some tea first. Are we at my place yet? I can make some and then I can tell you,” she said, sniffling. 

“Yes, lead the way,” he said as he got out of the car.

In the end, he was the one to make the tea because her hands were trembling and he didn’t deem it safe to let her handle boiling water. Once they were both sitting on the couch with a warm cup in their hands, she started talking.

“My mother got sick when I was 13. Breast cancer. She was still so young that she didn’t think she needed regular check ups, and when she found out it was too late. We tried everything we could, but she died just two years later.”

The worst part hadn’t just been her dying. It had been watching her fade day after day, her condition always worsening despite all the treatment she was getting. She wasn’t sure when exactly Belle had realized her mother wasn’t going to make it, but waking up every day with that knowledge had completely crushed both her and her dad. 

“My father didn’t know how to deal with it. The worse my mother got, the worse he started to behave. Not in front of her, never in front of her, but when she was at the hospital and we were home alone he ignored me, or was straight out mean sometimes. He started drinking, and when I lost her, I lost him too. It was like he didn’t care about anything anymore, not even me. I think he hated everything that reminded him of her, including me. One day I got back home and found him putting all of our stuff in boxes. He told me we were moving to the States. I barely had the time to say goodbye to my friends before he dragged me an ocean away.”

Gold listened, dumbfounded. He could barely imagine the kind of trauma and pain she’d gone though at that time. 

“When we got to Augusta I stuck out like a sore thumb. I moved into a new high school halfway through the school year, so I was the only one struggling to adapt to a new place, and I was too lost in my grief to go out of my way and make friends. I was alone most of the time. There was one boy, though, who never stopped trying to get a date out of me. I turned him down at first, because I felt too sad to date anyone, but eventually I told myself I had to move on, and gave him a chance. Soon enough he was the only one I talked to, the only person in my life beside my dad. When he started pressuring me into having unprotected sex, I was too afraid he’d dump me to tell him no. I didn’t want to be alone again. I knew it was risky, but I didn’t fully realize it until my period skipped. I panicked and told him, and he dumped me, saying he wasn’t even sure it was his kid after all. I don’t think he believed that, I think he just wanted to hurt me. A couple of days later, the whole school knew I was pregnant. He had told everyone about it, while adding a bunch of lies to the mix, all to humiliate me.”

People had stared and pointed at her, at the weird outsider who got herself knocked up, calling her stupid and a slut. Every time she didn’t think things could get any worse, they immediately did.

“I think my father was the only one who didn’t know. I tried to keep it hidden from him for as long as I could, because I was afraid he’d make me have an abortion, and I didn’t want to. I thought that if I could just hold on until the baby had grown enough, he wouldn’t be able to force me to get rid of it.”

“What happened when he found out?” he asked, fearing her answer. 

“He lost his mind. He screamed and shouted and for the first time I was even worried he’d hit me. He told me I was a disgrace, that he was ashamed to have me as a daughter, and that since it was too late to get rid of it I’d have to give my child up for adoption if I wanted to keep living under his roof,” Belle said, her lower lip trembling with the effort of holding back the tears. 

“I didn’t know where to go. I had no friends, no other family members in town that could help me, and I wasn’t even out of high school yet. If he’d kicked me out of the house… I would have been homeless, without a job and with a newborn. What hope did I have? How long would it take before social services took Gideon from me? I knew that the younger the kid, the higher the chances of it being adopted, so I decided… I decided that giving him up straight away would be better. It would give him a better chance of finding a home, and it would spare me the pain of having him taken away when he was older. I never… I never would have wanted to…” she couldn’t continue anymore, her voice broken by sobs, and suddenly Gold’s arms were once again around her. 

“You were barely more than a child. You were alone and you were so brave. It wasn’t your fault,” he said as he held her, repeating it over and over again. She pulled back to look up at him, her eyes red and swollen from crying, and the tenderness she saw in his eyes made her heart ache. Gold had given her something she’d long forgotten. He’d  given her a family, something to care for and that cared for her in return. He’d given her a home and a sense of belonging, and maybe it was because she was already too emotional from crying so much, but she couldn’t hold back any longer: she leaned forward and pressed her lips against his. He froze, and Belle felt her panic rise. She’d screwed everything up.

“Belle… what are you doing?” he asked, taking her face in his hands as he pulled back ever so slightly.

“I love you. I know it’s crazy and I know it only complicates things, but I do. I have for months. I know you probably don’t feel the same way, but I had to tell you.”

Gold was silent for what felt like an eternity, staring at her as if he couldn’t believe his ears.

“Then,” he said eventually. “Kiss me again.”

Without waiting for her shocked brain to process his words, he closed the distance between them, pressing his mouth against hers in a kiss that was nothing like their first. It was loving and passionate and made her toes curl. When they finally broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers. 

“I love you too.”

[thehummingindontblameme-blog]

this is not your ordinary tour post.

you’re probably rolling your eyes rn, but it’s true because i’ve already had all my reputation shows. this is a thank you post to @taylorswift​.  to thank her for the out of body experience that happened on 5-12-18.  above is a picture of me.  i’m sam!! and i would do anything for taylor allison swift!!

i’ve been a swiftie since 2014, but i wish i could go back in time and have become a swiftie earlier in my life!  but don’t you dare doubt me when i say that i know every word to every song, from i’d lie to mary’s song, from sweeter than fiction to come in with the rain, from shake it off to you belong with me!  my room is plastered in posters of @taylorswift​ and i finally decided to start a tumblr. 

i remember watching the new romantics tour video and thinking “i can’t even imagine seeing her in real life”  because for the past 4 years i’ve just been watching her life in pictures, dreaming impossible dreams.  but then...

reputation dropped.  the blackout happened. i didn’t know what was going on, i was excited and scared.  but i knew that taylor swift was not over.  look what you made me do dropped.  i remember crying on my floor and asking my cat if it was real.  if it was real that taylor was back. i played look what you made me do on repeat until gorgeous dropped, then call it what you want.  and then reputation dropped.  and i just about died.  it’s still the best album i’v ever heard from anybody, and i’m just so happy that i’m able to be a swiftie in this era.  but one thing that stood out was that there would be a freaking tour.  i had a chance.  i looked at the tour dates.  santa clara is 4 hours away, easy, and the tickets were pricey, but i wished and wished and wished.  

it happened.  it was new years eve, my 13th birthday.  (coincidence??? i think not) my family was driving home from going out to lunch and my mom said, “you know what, why don’t you open some presents a little early” and i was like “heck yes” and she handed me this giant bag.  everything was tied with a ribbon, so i had to pull everything out one by one.  first, it was mt 5th copy of reputation, then it was the reputation t shirt, and then it was another target magazine, and then... lyrics written on cards. i was already crying from the merch, but then... there was a little envelope at the end.  i opened it, and i started sobbing. i screamed so loud, because there in my hands, were two reputation tour tickets.  i kept screaming “i’m going to breath the same air as her?? be in the same stadium as her???”  

i got to work.  i had 5 months till tour, and i spent those five months counting down the days, fantasizing about costumes and the set list, watching that new romantics video but with more positive thoughts in mind.  i made me costume, i made me sign. i was ready for it.  

spoiler alert: i was NOT ready for it

my mom and i drove the 4 hours, listening to @taylorswift the whole way. funny story:  our car got broken into, so we stopped at my aunt and uncle’s house, and i thought it was literally the sweetest thing that when i walked in, they were playing shake it off in their kitchen.  for me. so that’s why the window is taped up. but we didn’t let it affect our concert, we shook it off.  

we got to the stadium, safe and sound.  my heart was pounding, i was shaking and breathing heavily when i got there. i had to throw my sign away, but i was good with it. 

i got my very own snake ring at the merch trucks, and a tour t shirt that is probably my most prized possesion.  again, words cannot describe how freaked out i was.  i was saying “you mean... taylor allison swift is less than a mile away from me right now???”  

i painted my nails to say “i heart ts” and i drew a 13 on my hand.  

my mom was sick but she still came to the concert with me, so we were getting an iced coffee for her.  but while we were in line... the lights turned off.  the stadium went black.  i screamed, my mom and i ran to our seats.  we stumbled through people rushing to their seats, but we made it.  i was sobbing. the iconic “BABY LET THE GAMES BEGIN”  began after the iconic opening video and by then i was hyperventilating.  @taylorswift came on and i was screaming and i kept saying to my mom “she’s right there!! taylor swift is right there!!!”  and i was a mess but i think i was the mess she wanted.  

my mom took a ton of pictures of me screaming the lyrics, i think this was during ready for it.  

idsb was probably my favorite part of the show.  i was shook and wigless from the vocal shows and the insane fireworks.  at this point i was screaming “THIS IS THE BEST PART MOM THIS IS THE BEST SONG”  

and then at the end of idsb she smiled that smile of hers and looked out at that endless ocean of crowd and i realized i was part of that endless ocean of crowd so i just kept screaming at the top of my lungs “I LOVE YOU TAYLOR”  and “I WOULD DIE FOR YOU”  

taylor did a speech before gorgeous and called me gorgeous and that really does a lot for your self esteem so

love story and style and you belong with me were amazing, the holy trinity honestly.  

she played look what you made me do and I SAW KARYN BUT I DIDN’T KNOW HER NAME YET and i was probably the only one singing the background vocals in end game and it felt a m a z i n g

she did her little delicate speech and i was like “PREACH GURL” because she started talking about her break and how feeling lonely is different than feeling alone and i really felt that ya’ know?  literally anything that comes out of her mouth is gold.  

and then this queen pulled the best day out of her little pocket full of sunshine and surprise songs from 2009??? and it was really emotional for me and my mom because that’s our song and we both were singing it together and hugging and i started crying again.  

SHE SANG BLANK SPACE AND I DID THE SANTA CLARA BACKGROUD VOCAL THING OFC AND I LOOK AT HER HITTING THAT HIGH NOTE I’M SO PROUD OF HER VOCAL SKILLS

also i witnessed @taylorswift take off her dress but it’s cool it’s chill nobody freaking out over there i was completely calm and composed you know how i feel about taylor swift, i just think she’s alright and everything she does is nothing special 

and then the bad blood and SHOULD’VE SAID NO mashup came on and i died and rose up from the dead to take this picture my mom was like “let’s take a picture”  and i was like “i’m too busy dancing”  but then i let her take a picture of me...

the humming.  the humming in don’t blame me.  could it be... my STAN SONG??? THE BEST SONG TAYLOR ALLISON SWIFT HAS EVER RELEASED?? HUH?? ALL THE VOCALS AND THE BRIDGE AND THE CHORUS AND EVERY SINGLE LYRIC MY HEART WAS POUNDING I WAS THE LOUDEST ONE IN THE STADIUM AND I DIED DEAD DONT BLAME MEEEEE

 also LONG LIVE AND NEW YEARS DAY um excuse me while i drown in my tears

POEMS WERE READ TEA WAS SPILLED and then i heard “no nothin good starts in a getaway car” and I  L O S T  I T

here i am in hysterics again, screaming “WE NEVER HAD A SHOTGUN SHOT IN THE DARK” 

(i’m skipping around bc i don’t have that many pictures)

the “oooOOOOooOOOOh” in WANEGBT started playing and once again, i lost my composure.  

in conclusion, it was the best night of my entire life.  and i’m serious about that.  i saw @taylorswift with my own eyes.  i saw her in real life, her hot glue gun scar and her hella good hair, and it was unforgettable.  i saw her play the album that i love so dearly.  she taught me lessons in that stadium, lessons about loneliness and love and disappearance.  no, i didn’t meet her in reproom.  obviously i wanted to (i would give anything to)  but it wasn’t about meeting her.  

it was about being with her.  being too busy dancing to get knocked off our feet with her.  in that stadium, i felt free of judgement and i was able to dance and sing and have the time of my life.  and for that, i want to thank @taylorswift.  for putting on a show that i’ll look back on and smile and possibly cry.  i want to thank the dancers and the band and the background singers for making it even better, and i want to thank the people who clean up the glitter after the party.  thank you @taylorswift.  ever since may 12th, i’ve been doin’ better than i ever was.

[waltzshouldbewriting]

Nemesis (Ghostmind Story 4)

By JD Jackson

First thing first, yes we are all fine.

That being said, you are all probably wondering the reason behind my recent online activities. Well, it all started about two AM when Dan was out helping investigate some weird gas thing.

It started for me when he barged into my room at 2:45 looking like a truck ran him over, minus the injury part.

“What’s wrong?” Was the first thing out of my mouth before my instincts finally kicked in. “Don’t answer that.” I ran from my computer (yes I was still up, sue me) to my bed, where I brushed off the papers I had all over it. I grabbed my weighted blanket, ordered Dan to lie down, and told him to relax.

“You need music - no you don’t,” I said, running through what Dan usually needs while in shutdown mode. I turned off my writing playlist, dimmed the lights, and fetched him a bottle of water.

Aaliyah called me just as I was about to call her.

“Is Dan at your place?” Aaliyah asked. She sounded half-asleep.

“Yes,” I replied, balancing the phone with my computer as I walked out to the living room. “He’s completely zoned. Do you know what happened?”

“Someone attacked him.”

“What?”

My parents were already in the living room, both on the phone. I plopped on the floor and opened up a window on my laptop.

“Let me find a picture,” I said. “See what I can find out.”

I put the phone down, already switching to research mode.

I found a video of the attack in half a minute. My mom handed me a notebook as I wrote and sketched what I saw.

Young. Our age? Design on shirt. One-way fight. Obvious training. Wasn’t seeking to kill, only hurt.

Questions began to form, and that’s when I started with the weird posting on social media.

Does anyone recognize his style of fighting?

Any idea on his symbol?

Anyone recognize him?

Another video came up, this one with a clear picture of the other person’s face. I snapped a screenshot and did a reverse image search just as a few responses came back in.

His fighting is very mixed. Can’t identify any one style.

If I had to guess, he had some jujutsu training mixed in with it.

I found his Facebook page, but it only listed what was definitely a false age and location, and a friends list. So I started searching for his friends.

That logo reminds me of Divinity White’s logo when she was Savage Serpent.

More googling, and I started connecting the dots. A photo on a friend’s timeline here, a jujutsu studio website from his hometown here.

After about thirty minutes, two police officers came to check on Dan. After some convincing from my parents, Dan came out to meet them.

“Any idea who attacked me?” Dan asked. His voice sounded flat, uninterested, but to me that just meant he was still in shutdown.

Police officers don’t know how to deal with him. And they haven’t had to yet, I realized. Not with his device. Which was still on his arm, shattered.

“Not yet,” one of the police officers responded.

“I know,” I offered. “His name is Jason White. He is sixteen years old, trained at an old rundown jujutsu studio in his hometown. He’s the son of Divinity White AKA Savage Serpent. Ms White was a member of the FOCOPI, back twenty years ago. She quit after a bad injury, and eventually married and became a lawyer. Her old secret identity was found at two years ago, shortly after which she and her husband were murdered by someone orphaned by the FOCOPI, which then left Jason orphaned. He moved in with his aunt, who still lives near the FOCOPI headquarters. And there’s an ongoing investigation to see if his aunt is the person behind the new FOCOPI member Avidizer.”

“FOCOPI may be evil, but they don’t involve kids,” one of the police officers said.

“Unless,” I replied. “The kid takes it upon himself to be involved. Jason has had two amber alerts since moving in with his aunt, but resolved quickly. One of the kids in his school with a less secure account seems to think he ran away.”

The other police officer raised an eyebrow. “So what you’re saying is the kid has a role model whose in FOCOPI, which is motive. And he likely tried more dangerous initiation tactics by himself.”

“Until FOCOPI gave in and gave him a safer mission,” I concluded. “Taking on Ghostmind, a superhero with no physical skill.”

“I’ll admit, it makes sense,” the first police officer said. She looked at my parents. “Your child is a good researcher.”

My dad chuckled. “It’s probably all that time they spend researching for that novel.”

“We’ll look deeper into what you’ve found, but we’ll still stay open to other explanations- though this one sounds solid.” The police officer looked at me. “Ever think of getting a job in criminal investigations?”

I made a face and shook my head. “Not creative enough for me.”

The next hour or so, police came and went from my house. I showed them how I did my research and the photos I’d found. Those who had time to react were impressed.

Dan’s parents came over, and the whole Davis Family stayed the night. Then, just a little after sunrise, it was time to start the next day.

Dan was already excused from school, and his mom called in with a family emergency, but the rest of us had to trot on to work and school. Not that I didn’t try to stay with him, but I was close to failing in two classes (like that mattered in the moment) and neither Dan nor my dad wanted me to stay.

So I went to school, despite having no sleep. And slept through most of my classes. When I got home, Dan and his mother were passed out in my room, so I took a nap on the couch.

The rest of the day was spent recovering from that morning. My mom forced us all to eat, even with no appetite. I spent the evening scrolling Tumblr while Dan played video games on his phone and his mother conversed with my parents.

She wanted to head home, but Dan was feeling sick from anxiety and was wary of riding in a car. Neither of them like the house (we are a messy family), and Dan complained once or twice that he should’ve walked the extra ten minutes back to his place initially. I did the best to keep the area clean, but it felt hopeless. Claudia and Aaliyah both showed up after dinner, and Aaliyah brought a tool kit to work on Dan’s device.

That night I didn’t stay up until 2 AM, but I still found myself woken up with a crash around the same time. I was sleeping on the couch, Claudia in one of the recliners, and Aaliyah had moved downstairs to work.

“What was that?” Claudia asked, sitting up.

“I don’t know,” I replied.

My parents creeped out of their room, my mom with a flashlight and my dad with a bat.

“Did you hear that?” My mom asked.

Claudia and I both nodded.

“Get Dan and go downstairs,” my dad barked.

“Why?” Claudia asked. “There’s police officers-“

“Do it.”

Dan was already awake, and he barely complained about the woody smell as we descended the stairs. I led them to a corner, and Aaliyah and Claudia moved a table to cover us.

Dan sighed and leaned his head against the cold wall, his breath speeding up. I could feel my heart hammering in my chest.

“It’s just a precaution,” Claudia whispered. “There’s no reason to panic.”

“I know,” I answered. “Doesn’t mean I can stop.”

“Shhh,” Dan hissed. “Stop talking so loud.”

Something thumped, startling me and Claudia.

“Aaliyah, how long is the repair going to take?” I asked, keeping my voice low.

“Too long,” Aaliyah said.

“That’s not an answer!”

“I don’t know what you’re thinking, but it’s not a good idea.”

I sighed. “It would make me feel better if we had a plan.”

“It’s four to one,” Claudia stated. “We could take him.”

“This is a horrible idea!” Aaliyah said.

Dan shook his head. “He’s too good of a fighter.”

“It’s four to one,” I repeated.

“I’m sure he’s trained for that,” Dan replied. “And none of us has.”

“I know a thing or two about strategy.” I looked around the room. “Now if I could only think clearly...” Closing my eyes, I did my best to concentrate. Just pretend it’s a scene in a novel.

“We have only one entrance,” I reasoned. “Umm, let’s see - we could take him by surprise - maybe, uh, nevermind, that wouldn’t work.” I continued to ramble, but slowly an idea began forming. “I think I have a plan. We need a net.”

It wasn’t hard. Claudia and I were able to sew a few stronger pieces of cloth together, and then I found small bolts in my dad’s work box that we tied to the end. Claudia took the net as we moved into position.

Claudia and I pressed our bodies against the wall next to the stairs just as the door creaked open. My heart was pounding even harder, but I forced myself to breathe slowly and softly. I listened as an unfamiliar gate walked down the stairs, ignoring the shaky feeling through my limbs.

Then Jason White stepped into the room, and me and Claudia tackled him with the net.

The good news is that we caught him by surprise. But, as Aaliyah expected, it didn’t take long for him to react. He landed an elbow into my stomach, and I stumbled backwards as pain flared. I hit the wall and collapsed, muttering a few of my favorite curse words under my breath.

Claudia recovered. Apparently, cheerleaders have high pain tolerance (which I do not, hence me lying on the floor in pain at this moment in time). She threw herself onto White and managed to wrap the net around his face in a smooth motion. It wasn’t enough to bring him down, but Claudia grabbed the edges and yanked, bringing White’s head down and making him stumble. Claudia elbowed him in the side of the head, knocking him into the wall, while he still struggled to get the net off. She kneed him in the stomach, and he punched her in the face in defense, making her stumble backwards.

White managed to toss the net off. Aaliyah had yet to finish her repairs.

I took a deep breath in, going through a quick grounding exercise. It made the pain worse, but I found I could focus. Now, all I needed was a stroke of genius.

And, impossibly, I had one.

I pushed myself up and forced myself to move to the other side of the room. White, who was still focusing on Claudia, turned my way just as I reached my target - a basket of spray paint. I grabbed a bottle, popped the lid, and sprayed it right into White’s eyes. It didn’t blind him as I’d hoped, but he did stumble backwards with a nasty wince.

Sometime during that sequence of events, Aaliyah managed to fix Dan’s device. Which was good, because a second later White punched me in the face and I went down.

“He has some type of device on his waist!” Dan called.

“What?” White asked, spinning around. He nervously patted his belt. “No I don’t!”

“A little protective of your doodad?” I asked, forcing myself up onto my knees despite the massive face ache (is that a thing?) spreading from my jaw.

Claudia, who, despite a bloody nose and a black eye, was sneaking around the side of White, took the hint. She launched forward, grabbing the device with amazing reflexes, and tossed it at Aaliyah. Aaliyah caught it, and held her wrench up to it like a knife to a throat.

White halted.

“You like this, don’t you?” Aaliyah asked. “It would be a shame if something... happened to it. But I figure if I’m smart enough to invent, I’m probably smart enough to destroy. After all, it’s supposed to be easier, right?”

White scowled. “What do you want?”

“For one, stop punching my friends. In fact, if you leave now, in the morning I’ll leave this somewhere for you to find.”

“Why would I trust you?”

“You don’t have much choice, do you?”

White huffed. “If you don’t return it, you’ll pay.” Then he turned on his heels and left.

Later that day, someone informed us that White used that device frequently to sneak pass police officers and guards. None of us know what happened to the device, since Aaliyah turned it over to the SGU.

And honestly, none of us care.

All I know is that two days later and Dan is still in panic mode and my cheek still hurts.

[terrietont]

Oh boy… this one is gonna be a doozy… But I really had to get this off my chest, it was really making my blood boil today…

DISCLAIMER:

This blog is NOT for drama, especially controversial and political ANYMORE because too much drama and negativity is really unhealthy for someone like me and I have had some very dark moments in my REAL LIFE due to past drama and controversy that I really wish not to go back to… I was not in a good place at one point during some very personal drama that hit me like a truck and completely shattered my world and I don’t ever want to go back to that horrid state of mind I was in, so I purposefully block and avoid drama that is out of fiction, fandoms and self mental awareness So just to clarify this is an art and fandom blog and I’m not mentally stable to deal with out of tumblr drama on this blog that I consider somewhat of a sanctuary of the Internet for myself and my followers and I use this blog to follow artists, post art and fanfiction and positive influence for my mutuals and for others to try and make their day. Yeah I do occasionally vent about my mental health too so I can help myself to cope with how tough it can be sometimes, but otherwise I try to be as positive and encouraging as possible despite the mental instability.

HERE’S THE TEA:

However, are times where I just cannot ignore awful behavior that I’ve seen so much over FICTIONAL OPINIONS AND FANDOMS and it INFURIATES ME and I CANNOT KEEP IT INSIDE ANYMORE!

I’ve seen many toxic YouTube comments and replies in my life and I’m always trying hard to ignore them and get on with my life and avoiding to pander to these trolls and toxic individuals even if sometimes I lose the battle and do reply to a troll. I’m disappointed when I give in to it.

Yes I admit it, I am a highly sensitive person, I can’t help that, that’s just the way my brain is, but I still love getting into opinions and discussions and conversing about fictional universes/games/movies/books/art and other fictional media even if I don’t agree with an opinon. I LOVE conversing about fictional universes, characters/music/movies/games/art/tv shows/cartoons and the art world in general with people and opening up different ideas and opinions makes it so much more exciting!

But here is the reason I felt the urge to rant today…

Recently I came across some very toxic replies and comments about someone’s movie opinions that I personally don’t even agree with but I wasn’t upset with the content creator’s opinions at all because I enjoy their reactions and because it’s a fucking movie. However, these comments just fucking drove me up the wall to no end. One of the comments was stating that the person was “pathetic” for being scared of a horror movie… That is just NOT OKAY. I’m someone that personally loves horror and I love a bit of gore too but I’m not going to belittle my mother and call her “pathetic” because she gets scared by horror movies. That’s just fucking mean and nasty and it would make her so upset and angry.

I am just really sick and tired when people INSIST their opinions about a movie or game or other fictional story is FACTUAL and state that anyone with the opposing opinion is wrong and stupid or something else demeaning.

I’m really sick of hearing the “you have bad tastes if you enjoy such and such movie” all the time instead of “I personally thought it was disappointing and I didn’t like it” like is it really that fucking hard to be non toxic about your opinions of a film to other people?

This is the reason I avoid those clickbaity “WHY X Movie is BAD” angry rant videos or negative reviews of fiction because it comes off to me as “AND THIS IS A FACT” rather than “I didn’t like it for this reason” which I do sometimes look at those videos if the title doesn’t come off to me as clickbait and hate-bait.

Yes, I can admit I have had moments where I’ve been toxic with my opinions in the past, but I’m really working to try and be more understanding now, especially when people are actually mature about the subject and I love to hear other opinions…. But it’s when you actually insult people over an opinon is where you cross the line and where it becomes problematic and where your opinion comes across as “My opinion about X movie is a scientific fact” instead of “I’m expressing my opinion in a passionate way”

Word usage is important, and I truly can’t stress enough that you need to be aware of your words and the language you use to convey an opinion.

all I want is to have a mature discussion or conversation or disagreement instead of have someone screaming at me with “YOU’RE WRONG, THIS MOVIE IS SHIT AND YOU SHOULD FEEL BAD”

And look… if it is just an exaggerated joke I get it but you need to understand that while it may come off as a joke to you, if you don’t know that person in real life and they don’t know you and you’re spewing your opinion so agressively without letting them know it was a joke it could come off as agressive and demeaning to the other person and they may not want to acknowledge your thoughts and opinions and even start some nasty discourse with them and yourself.

I just really want to have a mature intriguing discussion and not be belittled because to you I have “bad tastes” or I enjoy “bad writing” it’s not helpful and it doesn’t make people want to continue conversing with you.

And to the people that go to the extreme about a movie opinion… humanity is not doomed because some people enjoy a movie you don’t, like the world isn’t going to end because your best friend likes watching My Little Pony and you don’t. Accept that they enjoy it and move on… I don’t understand how this is this such a hard concept to grasp. There are movies I don’t like but I’m not going around to fans of it saying how dumb they are for enjoying it… That is nasty and childish behavior.

All I’m asking is for a bit of kindness and maturity. Have your opinions on fiction and art, negative or positive.

Be passionate about them and be open and give the world your take on your favorite movie or why you love a character or why you dislike a character and get it off your chest and let your passions fly! Just don’t be nasty about it and don’t shit on other people over fictional opinions and discussion. You don’t have to agree, just be kind and be open. Remember that freedom of speech doesn’t mean freedom of consequences.

Don’t bully someone over a fictional story.

[forgiven-whimsy]

Hey loves! Here’s an update for you:

Under the cut cause it got long

Christmas was awful, I never got my cards out cause starting in Early Dec we got on the illness merry go round, we had to cancel our plans to go visit the inlaws because all five of us were vomiting, lower gastro issue messes. We were the hot mess express over the holidays. We had a respite on x-mas day itself, and then the vomit started again on boxing day, all the way up to Jan 3rd...right as the husband had to head back to work. But we must have done something right as the kids have declared this the best x-mas ever, Santa was generous this year, we had more to spend then we typically do, so we were able to spoil ourselves a bit. It made the post x-mas purge easier clearing out unused toys and broken toys, we donated those still in good condition, and tossed the rest. (I always feel bad for those toys, thanks Toy Story.) 

Once we got over the sickly holiday haze my anxiety hit me with a mack truck, because my friends wedding was on the 13th. I had been doing well and been distracted that I didn’t give it much thought, but once I did the panic set in. I was pre-occupied with what people would think of me, thought of myself as a failure for needing to step down as a bridesmaid, but my husband and mom helped so much, to the point where my husband even made my a hair appointment cause he knew getting a cut a colour would boost my confidence and make me feel better (it did.) we went with low expectations with plans for an early exit if I felt overwhelmed. 

Well we ended up closing the place along side the bride, groom, families and bridal party, it was such a beautiful wedding, so full of humour and love, and I’m so so glad I pushed myself past my anxiety and went. It was perfect, she walked down the aisle to The Princess bride theme, and the officiant even did the Mawwage speech, it was so perfectly them. I’m still exhausted from it all, but in a happy way. 

I’ve been playing a lot of sims 4, like a loooot. It was easy and mindless and gave my anxiety a respite and an escape. I’ve also been creating characters from my favorite games, and my own projects just cause I can, telling myself it’s character work, and in some ways it is, it’s fun. But now that the major source triggering my anxiety has passed I’ll be playing less to focus back on my writing. 

I haven't written anything of substance since October, early November, and I’m going to forgive myself for that, it was a really stressful fall and holiday season. I’ll be giving my Beyond the Gate project my attention, because even through all of the BS those characters and that story have been most prominent in my mind, that’s the story that earned the most quick notes and fiddling while I’ve been away. 

What else, Husband and I are resolved to eat better, not diet, but after the gastro issues, and general feeling ick, we made the call to nourish our bodies better, cut out processed sugar, snack less or snack better. So far so good. No expectations, but it should be easier to stick to with two of us on board instead of just me. 

Littlest bug is still non-verbal, he’s trying a lot harder to get words out though, he’s trying to engage verbally more and more, and he’s making small strides that we celebrate the hell out of. We should be hearing from the Early Childhood center by the end of the month in order to start services with a speech pathologist, social worker and child psychologist, so that he can get properly assessed and get the help he needs. He’ll be 3.5 at the end of the month. He’s speaking at the same level of an 18 month old, if that. And while this is a source of stress.....It’s also not, I’m anxious to get started vs anxious about what’s wrong, I don’t think there’s something wrong, he’s just wired differently, I just want to know how to give him the help he needs to so can be his best self. He’s still my comedian, he’s still so smart and ridiculous, and acts like any other 3 year old would, without the words. He makes me smile everyday, and I’m looking forward to learning how to teach him so that he learns in the way that best suits him. 

I haven't seen the Last Jedi yet, we were supposed to see it over the holidays, but thanks to us being so sick, we never got the chance. I don’t know when we’ll have a chance to hit the theatres next, so I’ve stayed off Tumblr purposefully as to avoid spoilers, I have it blacklisted but now that it’s been out for a while people aren't as good at tagging, and I’d still like to have something of a unbiased perspective when I finally do see it.

So that’s that, I’m off to purge the porn bots, I likely won’t have much of a tumblr presence, I really do want to focus on writing and this is a definite distraction, but I will be checking in more frequently, so expect more reblogs ect moving forward. 

[latenightgaymer]

Taggery

The wonderful and inimitable @shadowshown​ tagged me for this!

Rules: Answer these 92 statements and tag 20 people

THE LAST: 1. Drink: Water 2. Phone call: My bank 3. Text message: Asking my older brother to give me 10 dollars out of the hundreds he owes me and being given a flat no and a laugh in my face :l 4. Song you listened to: http://iamthespaceboy.tumblr.com/post/162422715647/this-is-for-my-bud-flugel-puff-it-sucks But I feel like Leela because I can’t really hear right now but I know it’s just divine and it breaks my heart ‘cause I love that space boy llama and his jams. ;__; 5. Time you cried: I think it’s been a few weeks. I’ve been pretty sick so I’ve been focused on that.

HAVE YOU: 6. Dated someone twice: No 7. Kissed someone and regretted it: Never Been Kissed (1999) in theaters now 8. Been cheated on: I’ve only had a relationship, long distance, once so I don’t know but I assume no 9. Lost someone special: Obviously 10. Been depressed: Maybeiously? 11. Gotten drunk and thrown up: No tomo

LIST 3 FAVORITE COLORS: 12-14: Red, black/grays, green

IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU: 15. Made new friends: Two? I hope? 16. Fallen out of love: Maybe 17. Laughed until you cried: I laughed until I felt like I was hit by a truck just this morning! 18. Found out someone was talking about you: In a bad way? That’s a constant 19. Met someone who changed you: Meh 20. Found out who your friends are: Eh 21. Kissed someone on your Facebook list: Gross

GENERAL: 22. How many of your Facebook friends do you know in real life: Most 23. Do you have any pets: Dogger 24. Do you want to change your name: This is a more complex question for me. I’ll just say I want to change the order. Maybe. 25. What did you do for your last birthday: Nothing good. Golden birthday was a bust. 26. What time did you wake up: 3AM 27. What were you doing at midnight last night: Sleeping 28. Name something you can’t wait for: To have my bro and best friend back in my life or to taylor swiftly go gently into that good night with a dead heart~ <3 29. When was the last time you saw your mom: An hour or two ago 30. What is one thing you wish you could change in your life: See 28 31. What are you listening right now: A fan blowing, my own raucous laughter at my own responses 32. Have you ever talked to a person named Tom: I scolded a college professor in the middle of quiet time in his own class because of a Tom! I had some notoriety after that, heh 33. Something that is getting on your nerves: Lack of hearing in my ear 34. Most visited website: Probably Tumblr or Discord

LOST QUESTIONS. I JUST PUT IN RANDOM INFO ABOUT ME 35. Mole/s: No thank you, I prefer other sauces 36. Mark/s: Marks are okay, but Alexs are better 37. Childhood dream: I was talking about being a paleontologist and archeologist a lot in kindergarten 38. Hair color: Dark brown 39. Long or short hair: I wear it short to medium 40. Do you have a crush on someone: Haven’t really been talking much with anyone so I suppose not 41. What do you like about yourself: Dances with wolves 42. Piercings: Nope 43. Blood type: Delicious 44. Nickname: Angelito is pretty popular with the studs ;) 45. Relationship status: Single 46. Zodiac: Rabid scorpion monkey with big. Meaty. Claws. 47. Pronouns: Like, the totally tubular ones? 48. Favorite TV Show: Samurai Champloo 49. Tattoos: Nah 50. Right or left hand: Lefty 51. Surgery: No thank you 52. Hair dyed in different color: Nope 53. Sport: I used to like racket sports 54. Error 404 55. Vacation: Somewhere not too hot with someone I love. The “who” is what matters to me. 56. Pair of trainers: Que es? No?

MORE GENERAL: 57. Eating: Pizza, Mexican food, pastas, breads 58. Drinking: Water, flavored water, iced tea 59. I’m about to: watch some Twitch streams 61. Waiting for: A man D:< Info on any new party members in .Hack G.U. HD 62. Want: A man! D:< D:< Ahaha, but yeah, um...I dunno. See 28? ^ 63. Get married: Yeah...when I get a man!!! D:< D:< D:< 64. Career: I’ve kind of been getting interested in being a Let’s Player but I don’t have the equipment or finances to start, just the games and desire. Womp womp

WHICH IS BETTER 65. Hugs or kisses: I couldn’t say </3 66. Lips or eyes: Eyes 67. Shorter or taller: Short guys are great! Tall guys are great! (I am afraid of heights though.) 68. Older or younger: Close to my age is good for now, or older 70. Nice arms or nice stomach: A “nice” stomach can mean a lot more types~ 71. Sensitive or loud: Sensitive 72. Hook up or relationship: Relationship 73. Troublemaker or hesitant: Hesitant with an aptitude for occasional mischief

HAVE YOU EVER: 74. Kissed a Stranger: No 75. Drank hard liquor: No 76. Lost glasses/contact lenses: Half of my glasses haha 77. Turned someone down: Never really been asked 78. Sex on the first date: Never had a date 79. Broken someone’s heart: Romantically I doubt it, beyond that, maybe 80. Had your heart broken: Dunno, I mostly meet or have people in my life who don’t care about it at all so it’s constantly just...existing 81. Been arrested: Just my...development (I’ve never seen that show...) 82. Cried when someone died: Uh... 83. Fallen for a friend: The best people to fall for are ones you know and love! I’m way too shy to just go out there in the open stranger danger world. I stick to the edges of the pool.

DO YOU BELIEVE IN: 84. Yourself: I believe in myself as far as keeping my house pizza-free 85. Miracles: Yeah 86. Love at first sight: Attraction, infatuation, lust, yes, love, no 87. Santa Claus: No 88. Kiss on the first date: Probably not on the lips

OTHER: 90. Current best friend name: Pass 91. Eye color: Brown 92. Favorite movie: I can never answer this. Beetlejuice? Scary Movie 2? Lilo & Stitch? Addams Family Values? Les Diaboliques? Dunno

I’m not gonna tag anyone, seen a few others do this already. If you want to do it though, by all means! Tag me so I can see the responses!