#my dad always got mad at us for walking barefoot and my mom always said we'd get sick

[doctenwho]

Parental Demeaning

Hello! Thank you for the request! I loved the idea of this, but I wasn’t too sure how to go about it. I only really have my parents to go off (they’re not at all like the ones written) but it’s hard to put myself in the mindset of it without context (and since parents are all drastically different), but I tried and hopefully it’s alright!

I had to read a couple articles to find some lowkey emotionally abusive things, and I tried to put as many as would fit, but still make sense in the fic. Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Emotional/ Verbal Abuse.

Word Count: 4,230

Summary: Up in the prompt! :)

(Gif doesn’t belong to me, credit to creator!)

It really wasn’t often you got to go home and see your family and friends. As much as you loved them, there was just better things to see and do in space with the Doctor. It was no one’s fault, the Doctor would bring you to earth whenever you asked, but you just got so caught up in the Doctor and other planets and adventures.

It also didn’t really help that you basically lost all concepts of days and times when you were in the TARDIS. Without the sun rising in the morning and setting at night, you couldn’t be bothered with remembering whether it was day or night, or October or December. It was just then, or rather, now.

And even after all his years travelling, the Doctor was really no better when it came to times or days or months—but he usually got the year right when you asked. To be fair though, earth timelines really had no significance to him—it wasn’t like he’d have an angry mother if he missed Christmas or her birthday or something.  

You on the other hand... you were just thankful the Doctor had mentioned the current date on earth because if you missed your mother’s birthday there would definitely be hell to pay. It really was a coincidence that the Doctor happened to prompt a visit to your home planet the evening before your mom’s birthday.  

It would’ve been bad had you shown up months later having missed her birthday and not even rung her to wish her a happy birthday. She’d probably hold that over your head for years and years to come if that happened.

But you were saved before you could get yourself in trouble. The Doctor was basically your guardian angel at this point.  

So, that following afternoon the Doctor had landed the TARDIS a street over from your parent’s house so they wouldn’t see you exiting and entering a police box like a lunatic with a man they’d only really met in passing.  

“Come on,” you huffed, standing by the TARDIS door with your arms crossed over your chest and a pout on your lips, “I don’t want to go alone.”

“They’re your parents,” the Doctor raised an eyebrow, but he was smiling teasingly, “your parents, your planet. I should stay out of it. Besides, your mother barely knows me, I’d ruin the day.”

“You wouldn’t and you know it,” you sighed dramatically resisting the urge to smile at the glance the Doctor shot in your direction, “you’re going to make me suffer through all the questions they’ll ask that I have no answers too alone? They’ll want to talk about my work—which I don’t have, then they’ll ask how I support myself with that same job I don’t have!”

“Well, aren’t you a dramatic one today,” again with the teasing from the Doctor, “fine, fine. I’ll tag along. But, it’s not my fault if it upsets your mother on her birthday.”

“No, it’ll be my fault,” you smiled brightly, “they’re always telling me I need to get a boyfriend anyways; she’ll probably be ecstatic when I bring home a Doctor.”

“I don’t think it works like that,” the Doctor huffed a laugh as he finally moved to join you at the TARDIS doors. He opened the doors and stepped out, you following close behind, “I doubt a space Doctor is as sought-after as a medical earth doctor.”

“Depends on who you ask, but it’s close enough,” you waved him off. “Anyways, you’re just my friend who happens to be a guy, they’re too nosy for their own good. Last thing I need if for them to start searching you up online and finding literally nothing because you’re not even from earth. I don’t even know how I’d answer those questions.”

“I mean, technically you can find me online—a lot of people on your earth know about me. I’m quite the phenomenon.”

“Not really the same thing,” you laughed.  

You waited patiently while the Doctor closed and locked the TARDIS, before the two of you were strolling in the direction of your parents' home. This visit was a surprise, since you didn’t have a cellphone that worked from Outerspace, so you really couldn’t contact them and let them know you were on your way beforehand.  

And even if they didn’t want company for long (which was unlikely), you and the Doctor could always leave. The TARDIS is only a few streets away. You don’t want them to feel obligated to entertain you and the Doctor if that’s not what they had in plan.

The two of you walked side by side, chatting easily about your latest adventure on a distant planet. An adventure you certainly wouldn’t be bringing up to your parents. You arrived at your parent’s home in minutes, walking up to the door and knocking. The Doctor trailed along behind you, a balance of interested and indifferent about being with you at your folk’s home.  

As expected, it was your mom to answer the door, swinging it open—and if the door happened to open outwards (which thankfully it didn’t), you probably would’ve been smacked backwards at the firm swing.  

“(Y/N)!” she greeted as she drew you in for a hug. You returned the hug with practiced ease, dropping it as soon as your mother did. Then she was looking you up and down, which she always did whenever you returned after not seeing them for months.  

After basically checking you out thoroughly, her attention snapped to the Doctor, who hadn’t moved since the door had swung open. She eyed him, to which he gave a small wave and a smile.

“You’ve brought a friend.”  

She didn’t sound mad, nor happy. But that was probably a good sign. And even if she didn’t like the Doctor it’s not like she’d say anything with him here. She’d wait until you were visiting alone, whenever that would happen next, to complain and tell you he was no good.  

“It’s the Doctor, mum,” you told her, “you’ve met him before.”

And that much was true. The Doctor had met both your parents in passing when he’d met you that first time. It was barely more than awkward ‘hi’s’ from both parties before the Doctor was sprinting away after some space creature tormenting earth. It still counted though.

“The Doctor, right.” She gave a nod, looking him up and down as well. She did that to everyone you brought him, including your friends from school. It was like she was trying to decide if she liked a person from their appearance.  

“It’s lovely to see you again,” the Doctor grinned from where he was standing.  

“Quite,” your mother replied. She looked between the two of you for a second before settling her attention on you and speaking again, “it’s about time you brought someone home. Well now, come in, come in. The both of you.”  

Your mom ushered both you and the Doctor into the house. You slipped off your shoes and the Doctor frowned before doing so as well.  

You tried not to laugh, since not once had you seen the Doctor without shoes. It was almost weird that he was now stood beside with just his socks on his feet. At least he was wearing socks, you couldn’t even imagine a barefoot Doctor.  

“How nice of you to show up for your mother’s birthday,” your father called from the couch, barely looking away from the television, “you could’ve called ahead though.”

“We were travelling,” you lied, but it wasn’t a complete lie, “bad reception. Besides it was supposed to be a surprise.”

“Well, colour me surprised,” your mother smiled happily. She casted a sideways glance at the Doctor, who’d distracted himself by looking at some of the photos hung on the walls.  

You looked towards the man too, before clearing your throat to get his attention and sitting down on a loveseat across from the couch. The Doctor followed you, settling onto the cushion beside you while your mother disappeared into the kitchen.

“Tea, coffee, anyone?”  

You glanced over at the Doctor, blinking at his shrug before you were calling back a, “tea for us!”

“Where are your manners?” your dad glanced towards you, “your mother is making you and your friend tea, and you don’t even say please? If you don’t behave, no one will ever love you, silly girl.”

“Sorry,” you ducked you head in embarrassment. “Thank you, mum,” you called back into the kitchen. Your mother didn’t reply, but it did seem to please your father. You planned to thank your mother when she actually brought the teas out. 

You frowned; a bit upset that you’d been scolded in front of the Doctor after being in your parent’s home for less than five minutes. You leaned back on the loveseat, frowning down at your lap. You glanced up when you felt the Doctor’s elbow nudge you, but he wasn’t looking at you—instead focused on your father.  

You raised a confused eyebrow at him, but he didn’t really notice it. You weren’t too sure why the Doctor was all but glaring daggers at your father.

No one said anything. You’d already been scolded once, the Doctor not really a talker in situations like this, and your father still distracted by the television. He tended to avoid talking and socializing unless your mother was there beside him, which was normal.

Your mother returned soon enough, holding a tray with four steaming mugs, a little sugar bowl and a small pitcher of milk. There was also a stack of four plates, four forks and a small, store bought birthday cake.  

With your mother’s arrival, you father shut off the television so he could actually join the conversation. You knew if he left it on though, you mother would yell at him like she always did. You were thankful that they weren’t going to have one of those arguments with the Doctor in the room.

She set the tray on the coffee table, then got to work handing out everyone’s mugs. She started with your father, then the Doctor, then you. She casually managed to fill the silence as she distributed the mugs, “a coworker of mine bought a cake over to the house this afternoon, isn’t the lovely, (y/n)?”

“Thank you, mum,” you made sure to say after taking your mug into your hands, “it is a cute little cake.”

“I know!” she chirped, sitting back with her own mug, “it was the nicest thing. I mentioned that we hadn’t heard from you a while and that we weren’t sure you’d come around today, so she brought it over after work.”

“That’s very nice of her,” you mumbled, adding what you liked to your tea and stirring it up before taking a sip. You just let your mother drone on about her probably too nice coworkers. You gotten used to being compared to anyone who said anything nice to your mother at a young age, so it barely bothered you anymore.

“It is,” you mom grinned, “she was telling me about how her daughter is off at university, and how she comes home every weekend to visit-- what a sweet girl she is. You should be more like that. We hardly ever see you, and I assume it’s this young man’s fault?”

The Doctor looked like a dear in the headlight, mug lifted to his lips, but frozen there when your mother mentioned him. “No,” you came to his defense, “it’s just been busy. We’ve been travelling a quite a bit. There’s so much to see. I’m sorry I can’t visit as often as I’d like though.”

“Nonsense,” your dad frowned, setting his mug on the side table and crossing his arms over his chest, “if you really wanted to visit, you would. You’d make the time.”

You gave a heavy sigh, settling your mug on your thigh, “we’ve been over this, dad, I’m not nearly close enough to visit as often as I want. I get pulled here and there at...at work, and it was hard even finding the time to come visit you guys today.”

“We know darling,” your mother cooed, “we just miss you is all. You should be thankful that your father and I care about when you visit, lots of parents don’t care what their children get up to. We just like to know what’s going on in your life...”

“I am thankful,” you frowned, staring down into your mug, “I just... I’m busy. The Doctor and I have work to do, and I can’t... I can’t always be thinking about you guys and visiting. That wouldn’t be good for anyone.”

“No, of course not,” your mother relented, but the frown on her face clearly said she thought otherwise.

You felt bad that you couldn’t always be around for your parents, but you really needed a life. And there was absolutely no way you’d be passing up more trips into space with the Doctor for a few more evening tea parties with your parents.  

It was still a bit weird for you to hear your parents requesting to see you as often as they did. You remember them always commenting about how you needed to grow up, and be successful in your own life. How you needed to move out and stop mooching off them—always telling you to stop burdening them, and become an adult.  

And you had. You’d done exactly what they pushed you towards.

But now all they seemed to want was you back as you were.  

Parents were confusing.

“Right,” your mother spoke brightly, as if the last few minutes of conversation hadn’t happened, “who wants some cake?” She always tended to skip right over anything she didn’t like the sound of. It was a trait you’d known your whole life.  

You nodded your head, glancing towards the Doctor, who was still watching your parents as if he were trying to understand them. He’d barely had any of his tea, instead nursing the slowly cool mug in his lap. “Doctor?” you prompted. He turned to you giving a quiet ‘hm?’ in acknowledgement, “would you like a slice of cake?”

“Oh, no thank you,” the man shook his head, giving your parents a polite smile, “I don’t like to have too many sweets.”

“That’s alright,” you mother promised, “I’m sure I can bring the rest into work tomorrow. The two of us’ll never get through it all before it’s gone off, right darling?”  

Your father gave a hum of acknowledgement, which seemed to please her.

You watched as your mom unstacked the plates, she cut herself and your father small sized pieces of cake, “how big, sweetheart?”

Your mother looked towards you, almost impatient. “Uhm,” you mumbled, “a bit bigger than your guy’s?” You requested.  

The pieces your mother cut for them were about half the size of a regular slice of cake. You knew they liked to watch their sugars, but you didn’t really. You didn’t eat enough sweets in the TARDIS to really have to, so this was a bit of a treat.

Your mother’s eyes shot up to you, eyebrows furrowed in concerned thought, “are you sure? Should you really be eating that much sugar? Food is not your friend, honey. You’ve got to keep yourself in shape if you’re going to find yourself a nice husband.”

You blinked, frowning before you nodded, “yeah, you’re right. A bit smaller than you and dad’s alright?”

Your mother nodded happily, cutting a slice of cake for you and handing it across the coffee table. You eyed the cake for a moment, debating whether you really wanted to eat it. Maybe she was right?  

Before you could put it down and refuse the sweet treat, the Doctor hijacked your fork and took a bit of the dessert. You gaped at him in surprise, blinking at his bright smile, “it’s really quite good,” he told you, “you look lovely, I’m doubtful any amount of sweets could possibly take that away.”

You smiled at him, silently taking him. You really had wanted to eat the cake, but not if it would jeopardize your figure- but if the Doctor was saying it was good, and prompting you into it—it was hard to say no.

You took back your fork when the Doctor offered it back, taking a bite of the cake for yourself. It was delicious. He’d been right. It was probably the best non-homemade cake you’d ever had.

“Where did your coworker get that cake?” the Doctor questioned cheerfully, dragging your mother into easy conversation, “a special occasion is coming up and I’d love to get a cake for it.”

“Oh!” Your mother set her fork down on the edge of her plate, “it’s from this nice little bakery downtown, the name should be on the box in the kitchen, I’ll check for you when I bring the plates into the kitchen. They’ve got really nice sweets.”

“Wonderful,” the Doctor grinned, “I’m sure it’ll be perfect for the occasion.”  

You held you tongue before you could ask the Doctor what exactly he was talking about. Instead, you shoved another forkful of cake into your mouth and listened to the Doctor charm your mother over the little bakery downtown.  

Time continued on, and before you knew it, you were stepping into your shoes at your parent’s front door. They were both stood in the doorway, watching the you and the Doctor put your shoes back on.

“It was so lovely to see you again, honey,” your mother beamed, moving in to hug you once more, “I'm so glad you could make it for my birthday.”

“Yeah,” you hummed, “it was good to see you too mum.”  

“Come back soon, alright?” your father prompted, giving you a one-armed hug, “call ahead though, you don’t know if we’ll have plans or not. Our lives can’t revolve around you.”

“I know, but I really can’t,” you huffed, “reception is awful when you’re travelling. I’ve tried before and nothing goes through.”

Your dad gave a tired sigh as he pulled away, “you’ve always been so difficult.”

You opened your mouth to reply—to apologize—but the Doctor beat you to it, “well, it was lovely seeing you both again—or rather, meeting, I suppose. We must be off now, places to be and things to see!”

“Oh, alright,” your mom forced a smile, “we love you, sweetheart, and we’ll see you soon, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “love you guys too.”

And then the Doctor was leading you away, pace fast. You threw a wave over your shoulder, which your mother returned before she was shutting the door. You were in a weird state between glad you’d managed to see your parents on your mom’s birthday, but mad at yourself that you’d made the Doctor sit around with you.  

He had to have been bored. Your parents had barely acknowledged his existence throughout the hour-long visit.  

The Doctor didn’t really say anything as the two of you walked side by side back to the TARDIS. He was almost stewing, but you didn’t know why he was mad. Maybe because you’d begged him to tag along. Was he mad at you?

When you arrived at the blue police box, the Doctor was quick to unlock it. You stood patiently, waiting to see what would happen when the two of you were closed in together. He was obviously angry about something; you just weren’t sure what.  

You followed him in, shutting the door behind yourself. When you turned back into the room, the Doctor was already pressing buttons on the control panel. You stood for a second before finally speaking, “I’m sorry.”

The Doctor’s attention shot up towards you faster than you’d thought it ever had, but he no longer looked angry, “what on earth are you sorry for?”

“You’re not mad at me?” you asked skeptically, leaning back against the TARDIS doors.

“No, of course not.” He looked tilted his head, “I’m not mad at you, I’m mad at those people you call parents.”

Wait, what?

“Why’re you angry at them? Did they say something to you?”

You don’t remember them saying anything mean to the Doctor, but you wouldn’t put it passed them to passive aggressively say something that could be considered an insult to an alien.

“No,” the Doctor blinked, looking genuinely confused, “they said something to you.”  

“What do you mean?” you couldn’t help but ask. Did the Doctor see something you didn’t?

The Doctor let his hands slide off the console and drop to his sides, lips curling into a frown as he stepped towards you, “you really don’t see what they did wrong?”

“...no?”

“(Y/N),” the Doctor breathed, “your parents didn’t say a single nice thing to you tonight. Everything they said was some sort of twisted, belittling way of putting you down.”

“What are you talking about?” you questioned, not really understanding. “They didn’t say anything mean.”

“They were making little remarks, hidden away,” the Doctor insisted, “and I saw that they hurt you. You heard them, but you thought nothing more of the remarks because you’ve been hearing them probably your whole life. To you, they’re normal—normal behavior between parents and their children. It’s not, (Y/N).”  

“What do you...”

“You didn’t even notice,” the Doctor frowned, standing in front of you, “and I doubt your parents did either, but I did, and I don’t like it. It’s not right. Not when everything they said this evening couldn’t be further from the truth.”

The Doctor took a breath before launching into a heated rant, “your mother commented on you wanting cake, insinuating that one slice of cake would make you gain weight, but you’re absolutely perfect the way you are. You can have as many sweets as you’d like, she doesn’t get to dictate what you eat,” the paused for a moment.

He didn’t stop for long, because not even a beat later the Doctor continued on, “and your father told you no one would ever love you for forgetting to thank your mother instantly for a cup of tea. That certainly isn’t true, because I love you and no amount of anything—especially forgetting to say thank you—will change that.”

“Doctor--”

“And don’t even get me started on those little remarks,” the man huffed, turning away from you, “your mother comparing you to everyone, or your father saying rude things like ‘you’ve always been so difficult’,” the man mocked in your father’s voice, “and none of its true, you’re not difficult, and you’re a far better daughter than your mother takes you for—I mean, look where we are, we came from space for her birthday, and all she does is comment on your figure, and try to guilt you into visiting more often.”

The man finally looked at you, all anger in his eyes bleeding out as he finally noticed your frown, “I... never really noticed.”

“You shouldn’t have to notice,” the Doctor sighed, moving to pull you into a hug that was so much more comforting than anything your mother could give you, “you shouldn’t have to notice, because it shouldn’t happen. What they’re doing is emotional abuse. They’re hurting you—whether intentional or not, they are.”

“I do feel awful every time I see them,” you couldn’t help but mutter into the Doctor’s chest.  

“And you shouldn’t,” the man whispered honestly, “you really shouldn’t. You should feel good after seeing them. You should have a nice time with them—not be ridiculed and disrespected. I was only there for one evening, and I couldn’t stand the things they were saying about you. I’m so sorry that you’ve been suffering through that you whole life, (Y/N).”

You swallowed, unsure where to go from here. You really had never noticed—or maybe you’d never really paid attention to it. Never put the pieces together. But you saw it now. How everything they said made you feel bad about yourself, or hurt your feelings.  

And it sucked.  

“They said some pretty terrible things tonight, huh?”

“They did,” the Doctor sighed, holding you a bit closer, “but nothing they said was true in the slightest. They're abusers, and they’re wrong. They haven’t been very good parents.”

“Not tonight they haven’t,” you sighed. “My mom basically called me fat. Told me to watch my weight in a nice, roundabout kinda way.”

The Doctor bit his lip, before he gave a small nod, “but she was wrong. You’re perfect. She doesn’t get to say things like that to you when there’s no reason to be saying it. And there’s never a reason to say anything like that.”

“Suppose so,” you frowned, “it was good cake.”

“It was,” the Doctor grinned, “which is why we’re getting our own from that bakery, one that we’ll eat until we we’re sick. I’m not letting your parents tell you how to live, it’s not fair.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, “this was the special occasion you were talking about?”

The man grinned beside you, hopping towards the console again and pulling a lever that faded the TARDIS away from its parking spot, “had to cheer up my companion and make her feel special—I'd say that’s a pretty special occasion, wouldn’t you?”

<><><><>

I hope this was satisfactory, and thank you so much for prompting! As always, if it’s not what you were looking for, feel free to prompt me again! Apologies if the parents don’t read right, I never knew writing parents could be so hard! Didn’t know how to write a spontanious visit to the folks, so just went with a birthday.

[mhdiaries]

Monster Exchange Draculaura Passport

6 June

I have lost my passport. Okay, maybe “lost” isn’t the right word, maybe “misplaced” is better, or at least it makes me feel better to think of it just not being really “lost, lost”; because “misplaced” means I can actually come across it by looking in places where it is not normally kept, whereas “lost” means the possibility of me ever finding it again is dreadfully small. I am not in panic mode yet, though. There is still time to find it before I have to leave for Shibooya. I hope. Clawd thinks I need to apply for another passport, but that would mean giving up and admitting that I really have lost it instead of just misplaced it. I can hear Dad now, “Draculaura, it is totes irresponsible of you to lose such an important document.” Okay, maybe I can’t exactly hear him saying “totes”, but the rest of that sentence comes through loud and clear. I’m doing my best not to tell him, which is waaaay easier since he’s out of country right now... with his passport not lost or misplaced, I’m sure.

13 June

I am sitting in the student exchange gorientation class right now. I am pretending to take notes, which makes Mr. D’eath happy. It also has the curious effect of keeping him from repeating himself, which means the class doesn’t go as long. If I were legitimately taking notes, these are some of the subjects I would have written down:

Do not lose your passport. This is an important document, and it is your responsibility to keep up with it.

One time Mr. D’eath lost his passport and never got the chance to go on his exchange trip, which meant he had to stay home and work in his father’s shoe store instead of getting to see the Eiffel Terror.

Do not lose your passport.

I think I would be getting a lot more out of this class right now if I weren’t being constantly reminded of this. Bats! I know it has to be somewhere - “Well, of course, it has to be somewhere Draculaura, things don’t just vanish into thin air.” Oh, yeah? What about Invisi Billy? “Okay - except for Invisi Billy.” Lagoona just snorted again, I know that snort; it’s what she does when she tries to turn a laugh into a sneeze. I wish I were sitting next to her so I could be in on whatever it is that she’s laughing about, but Mr. D’eath won’t let us sit next to each other because, apparently, we’re “disruptive.” So not fair, and right now Lagoona needs some encouragement. She’s already missing Gil, and she hasn’t even left yet. I’m going to miss Clawd, too, but our situation is totes different than theirs is. I should talk to the ghouls and see if we can do something special for them. Ooh, I think Mr. D’eath is wrapping things up. Feariously? Again with the lost passport? I get it already... I just wish I had gotten it before I lost... er... misplaced it. Sigh...

15 June

I went over to Clawd’s house for dinner tonight. It was fun. His mom always makes sure to cook something without meat in it for me. This time it was pasta with scarinara sauce. She also made meatballs, but, of course, I passed on those. The Wolfs treat me like I am a member of their pack, and I always feel so special when I’m there. It made me think of Lagoona again, and how even something as simple as dinner is such a scary hard thing to make happen for her and Gil. When we finished eating, Clawd and I went for a walk. If he was worried about me being gone, he did not show it. I think some ghouls would take this as a sign that something was wrong, but I know better. There’s barely enough room in our relationship for the drama I bring to it, so I’m glad Clawd doesn’t add his own. Speaking of drama, I told him about my passport. Clawd snorted, but it wasn’t because he was trying to turn a laugh into a sneeze. It’s a “concern snort” which tells me that a solution has been released in his brain and it is currently trying to find a way out that does not sound like an order. Clawd is used to barking out orders. I guess that comes with being the captain of both the football and caketball teams. “I think, maybe you should get a replacement,” he said. “If you apply now, you’ll have time. If you wait, you won’t. That happened to Clawdia before she went to school in Londoom - it was a total pain in the fang.” I told him I would download the paperwork and fill it out, but I still don’t want to admit that it’s actually lost. I wonder if there is a box on the form for “misplaced”? I know it’s totes silly to carry on like this, but I don’t want to give up until I find it. 

25 June

It wasn’t hard to get the ghouls to agree to act as hair and makeup artists, it wasn’t hard to get Cleo to ask her dad for the use of a limo, it wasn’t hard to get the mansters to dress like body guards, but it was deadly difficult to get Gil to agree. “I don’t want to do it,” he said. “It’s just going to fall through, and then we’ll both be disappointed.” I finally had to resort to an intervention. Gil thought he was going to have a game day with the mansters at Deuce’s house, but not so much. When he walked down the stairs to the basement and saw all of us sitting there, he turned to Deuce and said, “I knew I smelled a trap.” Deuce said, “I could have just stoned you, but I’d rather have you mad at me than Lagoona.” It took a while, but after we laid out the plan... several times... he finally agreed. He was a nervous wreck on the way to pick her up, but by the time we arrived, with no flat tires, engine trouble, alien invasions or Heath Burns incidents, he was so excited he could barely stay in the limo while we went to get Lagoona. They had a clawsome day just to themselves, and we got to be a part of it. Totes perfect.

27 June

I was this close to moving my passport from “misplaced” to “lost” when I decided it was time to call in some backup. I invited Clawdeen, Frankie, Ghoulia, Abbey and Cleo for a creepover/passport hunt. I may or may not have mentioned the part about the passport hunt before they showed up, although according to the ghouls I definitely did not. It is possible that I did not mention it since I have been under a lot of stress lately. Frankie came to my rescue when the grumbling started to get out of hand, and said we could turn it into a treasure hunt, and that it would be fun. The other ghouls were not completely convinced that it would be fun, but Frankie could convince a werewolf to run barefoot through a field of wolf’s bane. We turned my room upside down - literally; Abbey is very strong. Cleo wanted to know when the last time I used it was, which, I think was when we all went to Scaris. I didn’t really need it for that whole “Queen of the Vampires” thing when we jetted off to Transylvania. Cleo suggested that maybe I left it in my luggage, so we all headed to my closet. Dad had put in some new track lighting, which makes it totes easier to find things now, and my clothes no longer smell like torch smoke. We went through all of my luggage from the trip; this took some time, but we found nothing except an old croissant. We had to keep Abbey from eating it, which made her crabby. Not that all the other ghouls weren’t crabby by this time, too, and that’s when Ghoulia, who was lying on the floor, pointed up to a shelf that had previously been hidden by the luggage. “Does that box say ‘Passports’?”? Abbey reached up and took down the box. Frankie opened the lid and pulled out a passport. “Draculaura, this passport expired 60 years ago.” Abbey dumped the box in the middle of the floor, and we all started going through them. Cleo said, “This one expired 30 years ago, and what is up with your hair in this picture?” It was a phase. Ghoulia flipped through the one she was holding, “Only 15 years out of date.” Clawdeen jumped to her feet with the one she was holding. “Found it, and it’s only expired by... TWO WEEKS!” I had two thoughts as I watched my ghouls freaking out with concern. Number one was “Misplaced, not lost”, and number two “Good thing I already applied for a replacement.” 

[lilohno]

BASIC QUESTIONS

First name? “Lilo.”

Surname? “Pelekai.”

Middle names? “Makamae Kailea.”

Nicknames? “Weirdlo, Freaklo. My dad used to call me Sport.”

Date of birth? “March 11th, 2002.”

Age? “Nineteen.”

PHYSICAL / APPEARANCE

Height? “5′3.”

Weight? “119.”

Build? “Small.”

Hair color? “Black.”

Hair style? “Long.”

Eye color? “Brown.”

Eye shape? “I’ve got big eyes.”

Glasses or contact lenses? “Neither!”

Distinguishing facial features? “My dimples or laugh lines or whatever they are.”

Which facial feature is most prominent? “I don’t think anything stands out that much.”

Which bodily feature is most prominent? “My hair.”

Other distinguishing features? “Hm, nothing.”

Skin? “Tan.”

Hands? “Small.”

Make up? “I don’t wear makeup often. There’s no point. It’s just going to smear when I get in the water, and I’m always in the water.”

Scars? “A small faded line on my right shin, who knows how I got that.”

Birthmarks? “I don’t have any.”

Tattoos? “Nani would kill me. I should do it.”

Physical handicaps? “None.”

Type of clothes? “I like muumuus, shorts, tank tops and grass skirts.”

How do you wear their clothes? “I rock them!”

What are their feet like? “Usually shoeless. I don’t mind flip flops and sandals, but I’d rather be barefoot.”

Race / Ethnicity? “It’s a mixed bag.”

Mannerisms? “Overexaggerating.”

Are you in good health? “Yes.”

Do you have any disabilities? “Nope.”

PERSONALITY

What words or phrases do you overuse? “I don’t think I overuse anything.”

Do you have a catchphrase? “No, but I should. That’d be cool.”

Are you more optimistic or pessimistic? “Depends on the day.”

Are you introverted or extroverted? “Extra extro.”

Do you ever put on airs? “I am who I am, you get what you get.”

What bad habits do you have? “Letting my emotions control me.”

What makes you laugh out loud? “Stanley, he’s the funniest guy I know.”

How do you display affection? “I’m a gift giver, a hand holder and a hugger. I’ll also take a lot of pictures of you. A lot.”

Mental handicaps? “Sometimes I feel like I’m emotionally immature.”

How do you want to be seen by others? “Cool! I want people to think I’m cool.”

How do you see themselves? “Different. There’s not a lot of people like me.”

How are you seen by others? “Weird.”

Strongest character trait? “I would say my resilience.”

Weakest character trait? “Refusing to ask people for help.” 

How competitive are you? “Why, what are we playing? You’re going down, buddy!”

Do you make snap judgements or take time to consider? “I consider… whether or not the snap judgement I just made was good or not.”

How do you react to praise? “I get all smiley.”

How do you react to criticism? “I’m okay with criticism if it’s actually criticism, if it’s someone being bossy or mean, I’m gonna get mouthy.”

What is your greatest fear? “Car accidents.”

What are your biggest secrets? “You’ll find out over my dead body!”

What is your philosophy of life? “Where there is love there is life. That’s by Gandhi.”

When was the last time you cried? “On the plane ride here.”

What haunts you? “The time I told my mom she was the worst mom ever. I didn’t mean it. I hope she didn’t remember that.”

What are your political views? “People should be able to love who they love, race and sex shouldn’t change a thing, and if it’s your body, it’s your choice.”

What will you stand up for? “Everything I believe in.”

Who do you quote? “My mama and my daddy.”

Are you indoorsy or outdoorsy? “Outdoors! I wish I could just hang a hammock up and sleep on the beach every night.”

What is your sinful little habit? “Sneaking pictures of strangers.”

What sense do you most rely on? “My sight.”

How do you treat people better than you? “I try to learn from them.”

How do you treat people worse than you? “They’re only worse than me because they’re a bunch of stinky bullies… and I still treat them better than they treat me.”

What quality do you most value in a friend? “Uniqueness and goodness!”

What do you consider an overrated virtue? “Tolerance. I shouldn’t have to tolerate someone else being annoying if I don’t feel like it.”

If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be? “I wouldn’t change anything about myself. I like myself.”

What is your obsession? “Elvis freaking Presley.”

What are your pet peeves? “Being told what to do.”

What are your idiosyncrasies? “Before we moved I had to feed Pudge the fish every day. I hope someone is still feeding him. I hope he didn’t get mad at me.”

FRIENDS AND FAMILY

Is your family big or small? Who does it consist of? “It’s small. Right now there’s only me and Nani, but my mom and dad still count too. And Stanley, Stanley is my chosen family.”

What is your perception of family? “Family means nobody gets left behind or forgotten.”

Do you have siblings? Older or younger? “Yeah, I’m the youngest.”

Describe your best friend. “He’s accepting, he’s funny, he likes me for who I am, he’s willing to learn and grow, and he’s loyal.”

Ideal best friend? “Stanley Jookiba.”

Describe your other friends. “I don’t have any other friends.”

Describe your acquaintances. “I don’t have any of those either.”

Do you have any pets? “I wish.”

Who are your natural allies? “Just Stanley.”

Who are your surprising allies? “Is Stanley surprising? If so, him. If not, no one.”

PAST AND FUTURE

What were you like as a baby? As a child? “I was happy. I was loud and headstrong and I stuck out like a sore thumb when I tried to bond with other kids. I haven’t changed all that much.”

Did you grow up rich or poor? “We did okay until it was just me and Nani.”

Did you grow up nurtured or neglected? “Nurtured. There was so much love.”

What is the most offensive thing you ever said? “Anything I said when I was mad at my parents. I didn’t mean it. I wish I could take it back.”

What is your greatest achievement? “My wall of Polaroids. They’re beautiful.”

What was your first kiss like? “This kid at school said I was too chicken to kiss a boy, so I kissed him. He didn’t like it much.”

What is the worst thing you did to someone you loved? “I’ve caused a lot of trouble for Nani. I don’t think she even cares.”

What are your ambitions? “To stop ocean pollution once and for all.”

What advice would you give your younger self? “Hug your parents every chance you get, and keep being you.”

What smells remind you of your childhood? “Sand.”

What was your childhood ambition? “To be the best hula dancer, just like my mom.”

What is your best childhood memory? “All the times we sat outside laughing at the silly constellations m mom would make up.”

What is your worst childhood memory? “The night my parents never came back home.”

Did you have an imaginary childhood friend? “I had a few.”

When was the last time you were crushed with disappointment? “When Nani told me we had to move.”

What past act are you most ashamed of? “One time I got into a fight and bit the girl. I got in trouble. I don’t know if I’m ashamed though, she deserved it.”

What past act are you most proud of? “The hula dancing competitions I won.”

Has anyone ever saved your life? “In a way, I feel like Stanley did.”

Strongest childhood memory? “Surfing with my dad. I’d sit on the board with him when I was too young to even walk, and he’d paddle us out to the middle of the ocean. I always thought it was so cool.”

LOVE

Do you believe in love at first sight? “Maybe.”

Are you in a relationship? “Ew, no.”

How do you behave in a relationship? “I’ve never been in one.”

When did you last have sex? “No, no, no!”

What sort of sex do you have? “And I’ll say again, ew.”

Have you ever been in love? “Only with Elvis.”

Have you ever had your heart broken? “I had to go to gravestones to tell my parents I graduated high school. Yes, my heart has been broken.”

CONFLICT

How do you respond to a threat? “Swingin’.”

Are you most likely to fight with their fists or their tongue? “My fists.”

What is your kryptonite? “Shaved ice.”

If you could only save one thing from their burning house, what would it be? “The last picture I have of my parents.”

How do you perceive strangers? “Interesting. Very interesting.”

What do you love to hate? “My big sister. I love her, but she’s annoying.”

What are your phobias? “I… I don’t like cars or storms very much.”

What is your choice of weapon? “My fists of fury!”

What living person do you most despise? “Freakin’ Mertle Edmonds.”

Have you ever been bullied or teased? “That’s all the kids back home did.”

Where do you go when you’re angry? “The beach. The ocean drowns out all of my feelings. Or I go into my bedroom and scream into a pillow.”

Who are your enemies and why? “If I had an archenemies it would be Mertle. She brought it on herself.”

WORK, EDUCATION AND HOBBIES

What is your current job? “I don’t have one, but I really need to get one. It’s getting harder and harder to afford film.”

What do you think about their current job? “Well, if you’re talking about school, it’s okay, but I’d rather be in Hawaii.”

What are some of your past jobs? “I get it! I’m a freeloader, okay? Don’t rub it in!”

What are your hobbies? “Surfing, swimming, photography, crafts, hula dancing… I may or may not dabble in a little black magic.”

Educational background? “I’m in my first year of college.”

Intelligence level? “I’m a smart kid, don’t doubt me.”

Do you have any specialist training? “No. I’m not in the CIA.”

Do you have a natural talent for something? “Surfing!”

Do you play a sport? Are you any good? “Does surfing count as a sport?”

What is their socioeconomic status? “I’m probably on the bottom.”

FAVORITES

What is your favorite animal? “Fish! I also like dogs! But fish!”

Which animal do you dislike the most? “Humans.”

What place would you most like to visit? “I’m not interested in being anywhere but home. That’s where I’d go.”

What is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen? “The ocean.”

What is your favorite song? “Blue Hawaii, but it’s a close tie between anything Elvis.”

Music, art, reading preferred? “Music.”

What is your favorite color? “Um… blue. Maybe.”

What is your password? “K1ngElv1sTh3K1ng.”

Favorite food: “Kalua pork.”

What is your favorite work of art? “Reflection Of You by Walfrido.”

Who is your favorite artist? “Elvis!”

What is their favorite day of the week? “Saturday.”

POSSESSIONS

What is in their fridge? “Pineapple slices. Nothing else. Well, whatever Nani has in there. I haven’t been grocery shopping yet.”

What is on your bedside table? “My lamp, a couple of seashells and one of my dad’s old books.”

What is in your car? “I don’t drive.”

What is in your bin? “A ripped up drawing I messed up on last night.”

What is in your purse or wallet? “I keep our last family picture in there or under my pillow. I have my student ID a few emergency bucks too.”

What is in your pockets? “Probably sand, some old candy and ants.”

What is their most treasured possession? “The only picture I have with my parents.”

SPIRITUALITY

Who or what is your guardian angel? “I know it’s my mom.”

Do you believe in the afterlife? “Yes.”

What are your religious views? “I just know there has to be something else.”

What do you think heaven is? “The place my parents are waiting for me.”

What do you think hell is? “Scary…”

Are you superstitious? “Very.”

What would you like to be reincarnated as? “Ooh, I wanna be a fish! Or a whale! Or maybe a dolphin!”

How would you like to die? “I don’t want to think about that. Please don’t make me think about that.”

What is your spirit animal? “The humuhumunukunukuapua’a.”

What is your zodiac sign? “Pisces.”

VALUES

What do you think is the worst thing that can be done to a person? “Belittling someone for who they are, making them feel like they have to change.”

What is your view of ‘freedom’? “Being able to swim whenever you want.”

When did you last lie? “I told Nani that it was okay we had to leave. It’s not okay.”

What’s your view of lying? “It’s not a good thing to do.”

When did you last make a promise? “A few months ago.”

Did you keep or break your last promise? “I keep my promises. All of them.”

DAILY LIFE

What are your eating habits? “I eat a lot of fruit. I love fruit.”

Do you have any allergies? “I wish I was allergic to broccoli.”

Describe your home. “Home was Kaua’i, the bedroom I grew up in, my parents’ house. What we have here isn’t a home, it’s just a house.”

Are you minimalist or a clutter hoarder? “I’m a hoarder.”

What do you do first thing on a weekday morning? “Hit snooze.”

What do you do on a Sunday afternoon? “Take a walk on the beach.”

What do you do on a Friday night? “Stay up too late watching alien documentaries and YouTube conspiracy theories. Don’t tell Nani.”

What is your soft drink of choice? “Fanta.”

What is your alcoholic drink of choice? “I cannot legally answer this question.”

MISCELLANEOUS

What or who would you dress up as for Halloween? “I’ve been all sorts of things! I’ve been a vampire, I’ve been Elvis more than once, a witch, a princess… I think I want to be a mermaid this year.”

Are you comfortable with technology? “I’m uncomfortable with how easy it is for people to hide behind a screen and be mean to each other.”

If you could save one person, who would it be? “Stanley.”

If you could call one person for help, who would it be? “Nani, if I had to.”

What is your greatest extravagance? “Camera film. That’s where all my money goes.”

What is your greatest regret? “Taking my parents for granted.”

What is your perception of redemption? “Saying sorry and meaning it. That’s all it really takes to be redeemed, isn’t it?”

What would you do if you won the lottery? “Buy my house back.”

What is your favorite fairytale? “The Ugly Duckling.”

What fairytale do you hate? “The Princess and The Pea. Who can feel a pea under that many mattresses? You can’t! Being a princess doesn’t give you some sort of other wordly status! It’s frustrating!”

Do you believe in happy endings? “I don’t know anymore.”

What is your idea of perfect happiness? “Kaua’i is happiness.”

What would you ask a fortune teller? “I’d ask them if my parents are watching over me, and if they’re proud.”

If you could travel through time, where would you go? “I’d go back to the night my mom and dad died, and I wouldn’t let them leave the house. I’d make sure they stayed safe at home with me.”

What sport do you excel at? “Dodgeball. I like chucking the balls at people’s heads.”

What sport do you suck at? “Football, it’s too confusing.”

If you could have a superpower, what would you choose? “The ability to breathe underwater!”

[goatsandgangsters]

Autumnal asks! Cider, harvest, spice (the correct answer for which is my old living quarters you now gaze upon out the window)

cider - a food that you disliked as a child but now enjoy?

pickles. used to hate them. now I’m the “eats the pickles of everyone who doesn’t want theirs” person at restaurants (back when we still went to those)

harvest - what fictional character do you most identify with? Why?

okay I don’t want to drag myself too hard here by giving you names. but I’m sure there’s a noticeable pattern on my blog where my favorite type of fictional character is “absolute bastard with a tough exterior and some kind of angry/cool/aloof persona, who isn’t actually as tough as they project and probably actually a dumb loser nerd on the inside (with some unaddressed pain and probably a mean dad?)” ...... like a piece of bruised fruit. a particularly surly piece of bruised fruit, with an angry face drawn on it in sharpie. and it’s mad because it’s the mean little plum that’s been left at the bottom of the plum barrel. 

which is not me in the slightest! I have a gooey marshmallow center, which pairs with my equally marshmallow exterior. and also my dad is great. but, you know! sometimes you just gotta love the bastards (the reminder that messy people are still loved) who have softness inside (the narrative catharsis when the forbidden soft spot shines through). I equally love “character you thought was slick is a loser nerd” as much as I love “character you thought was a bastard Hurts Inside” and I love when they’re the same person. angry fictional bastards have the most fun, I love them dearly, and I wanna watch ‘em break a little just to get put back together again. you know. for the emotional catharsis. the narrative tension. 

spice - have you ever encountered a house that you believed to be haunted?

of course I have, I’m from Pennsylvania, that’s why this is going under a cut because it’s about to get LONG

first of all, I DON’T REMEMBER YOU MENTIONING THAT YOUR PREVIOUS APARTMENT WAS HAUNTED. I will wave at the ghosts from my window. 

HAUNTED HOUSE: PENNSYLVANIA

But, as stated, I’m from Pennsylvania, which is Especially Haunted as far as US states go. It’s not Maine, but it’s up there. There was a ghost tour on the street that I grew up on. It was not a ghost tour for the town or for the neighborhood. No, it was a ghost tour of the street. Granted, this is the same street that once housed Washington’s troops during the Revolutionary War, so there’s a lot of ghosts accumulated. Fortunately, my house was one of the newer ones on the street (built in 1888) and it was not haunted. 

But my friend two doors down, her house was built in 1750. And it was HAUNTED! (I want to note that it wasn’t even on the ghost tour. The family was asked by ghost shows multiple times if they could film there, but the mom said no because she didn’t want to annoy the ghosts). 

I never encountered anything specific there myself, besides feeling completely uneasy in the older parts of the house (and that unease would instantly dissipate as soon as I went into new construction additions that had been put on the house). Especially late at night, the old parts just felt... bad. I once went home barefoot because I left my shoes on the other side of the house and I refused to cross the house alone in the dark to get them. 

There was something... wrong with the basement, also. I don’t remember the specifics of this, but I remember something about the shadow of a man who only appeared on the wall in December and would proceed down the stairs over the first week of December and then vanish, or something along those lines? (I’m not still in touch with the neighbor, but I texted a mutual childhood friend, who also recalled something about a man on the stairs specifically in December without my prompting). Their dad always claimed that there were Revolutionary War soldiers buried in the basement, which I don’t think was true (there are 100+ buried farther up the street though). But I never went in the basement! It was the only part of their entire house where we NEVER went! They had a repair guy in the basement once. He left. Because he got too freaked out down there. 

The mutual friend also told me she experienced weird dreams where voices told her they wanted to talk to Sarah. And she never thought anything of it, because no one named Sarah lived there. As an adult, she found out that our friend’s mom—who went by Sally and didn’t want to film ghost shows for the sake of the ghosts—was actually named Sarah. One time a bead curtain (y’know, it was the early 2000s) went absolutely WILD when no one but my neighbor was home. It may have even broken, if memory serves? 

HAUNTED HOUSE: LONG ISLAND

A house we rented one summer at the beach was definitely haunted. Nothing menacing, but similar to the above, I always felt super nervous and creeped out in the old part of the house, but would feel instantly relaxed in the newer addition. My uncle smelled pipe smoke constantly, in a family where no one smoked (nor did the owners). My dog spent that summer barking at nothing (and she was not a barker, despite being a beagle). I don’t know how old that house was, but it did have a fire once because there was an article about it framed on the wall. I don’t think anyone died though? But that house had... some vibes which were not ordeal. 

HAUNTED DORM: BOSTON

I believe I’ve told you the story of Shaft Girl, the ghost who opened my dorm room door my freshman year of college? 

So (and there are a few college people who follow me who can corroborate this story) the dorm I lived in in college was built in 1920. I don’t remember the particulars of her origin story, but the upper floors were haunted by a ghost nicknamed Shaft Girl (I thiiiiink she was supposed to have been the daughter of an architect or engineer or something, who fell down the elevator shaft and died during construction? She definitely fell from the upper floors into the elevator shaft and died, because that’s why her name was Shaft Girl). 

One time, I was watching a movie in my dorm room with two friends. One left, but I left the door unlocked in case he wanted to come back. And these were those heavy dorm room doors—the kind that does NOT stay open, they swing shut right away, and they’re generally pretty heavy and loud. So my friend and I are sitting on my bed, watching the movie. And the door opens about 45 degrees. It swings towards us, so we can’t see who’s holding the door open. But no one came in. It just... stayed open. And we go, “um.... [Friend Who Left]?” 

The door closes. We immediately get up and open it. No one is there. My dorm room was at the end of a very long hallway. And no one is in the hallway. We didn’t hear any other door open or close before we looked (remembering that these are college dorm doors, so you HEAR them), and we looked pretty quickly. There’s really nowhere anyone could have GONE that quickly or that quietly. So naturally I was freaked out, the friend stayed over because my roommate had already left for winter break, I went home in a couple of days, and I didn’t think anything more about it. 

THE NEXT YEAR—AND THANK GOD SHE WAITED UNTIL I WAS NO LONGER LIVING IN THAT ROOM TO TELL ME THIS—A FRIEND FROM THAT FLOOR TELLS ME A STORY ABOUT SOMETHING WEIRD THAT HAPPENED. Her dorm room was near mine at the end of the hall. She was coming home from class, the floor was pretty empty and quiet, and she stopped to look at the bulletin board. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a girl with long hair in a white dress standing at the end of the hallway, right in front of my dorm room (and I expressed my gender very different my freshman year of college, so that conceivably Could Have Been Me). So my friend turns to say hi to me, but no one is there. She keeps walking to the end of the hallway to return to her room and... no one is there. Again, it’s the end of the hall, and there’s nowhere anyone could go without either the loud open-and-close of a college dorm door or the emergency exist stairs that set off the alarm when opened. 

She tells me this one night. AND THE STORY OF MY DOOR OPENING BY ITSELF COMES RUSHING BACK. AND THAT WEIRD THING I NEVER THOUGHT MUCH ABOUT SUDDENLY TAKES ON NEW MEANING. BECAUSE HEY, APPARENTLY SOMEONE ELSE SAW A GHOST HANGING AROUND MY DORM AND WHO ONE TIME OPENED THE DOOR. Those are the only two particularly creepy incidents I know about with this dorm. But yeah. It freaks me out. 

HAUNTED RESTAURANT: MANHATTAN

OH AND HOW COULD I FORGET!! I was seriously about to post this without THE BEST GHOST STORY!!! How could I forget that one time @meyerlansky and I were on a date in John’s, The Historical Gangster Restaurant You All Know And Love From Boardwalk Which Was Actually Frequented By Actual Real Life Gangsters. You know, this one (and they actually sat us at that table too, which was aaAAAA). And coincidentally, it was Charlie’s birthday. I want to clarify, we did not go on a date for Charlie’s birthday—but I was home from college for Thanksgiving break and meeting up in Manhattan was the most convenient for us at the time. 

Anyway. Here we are in this historical restaurant, frequented by historical gangsters, on historical Charlie Luciano’s birthday. We talk. We eat. We pay our bill. We loiter. We talk. And then we start deliberating on whether or not we should get going. 

And very suddenly, the candle on the table goes out. It didn’t look like the oil burned out, and despite being by the door/window, it didn’t feel drafty at all. Maybe the oil did burn out, but the timing of it was impeccable. It was literally “do you want to go?” /CANDLE OUT. 

And we booked it out of there pretty fast! Because being paranoid people, our first thought in the gangster restaurant was that gangster ghosts were... threatening us or warning us or something. So we book it, we go home, and later that night, I’m recounting this story of being in the historical gangster restaurant on a historical gangster’s birthday and suddenly the candle goes out and—oh, I realize. That’s what you do on birthdays. You blow candles out. 

SO I’M NOT TRYING TO SAY THAT CHARLIE LUCIANO’S GHOST ONCE THIRD-WHEELED ONE OF OUR DATES, but like... it’s possible. And honestly, he would. 

[schweeeppess]

quick, before you skip the song

___

“Are you sure you wanna ask Bruce, Jason…?”

Jason rolled his eyes, sticking his key into the door and unlocking it.

“Look ‘ere, Timmy, Bruce ain’t gonna mind ya sleepin’ over,” he said for the fourth time since bringing the subject up downstairs. “Put my life on it.”

Tim looked alarmed as he followed Jason into the apartment, making sure to lock the door behind him once they were inside.

“No,” he rushed. “Don’t bet your life on it!”

Jason squinted at his eleven-year-old friend as he flopped back on the couch. “‘N’ why not?”

Tim made some wild gesture with his hands, which wasn’t an answer, frantically stumbling over his words as he sat down on the couch.

“Because!” he finally managed to say. “You don’t know if he’ll be okay with it.”

Jason rolled his eyes so hard he was sure they were well on their way to California.

“Last time I’ma say it, Timbit: Bruce ain’t gonna have an issue.” He yawned before adding, “Now quit stressin’ over it. S’not like your parents ‘re gonna care.”

“Jason,” Bruce sighed, stepping into the living room. He paused, probably changing his mind about something, and asked, “What am I not going to mind?”

Before Tim could offer a response with too many “if you wouldn’t mind”, “you really don’t have to”, or “I’m okay with you saying no”s, Jason raised his voice a little to speak over him.

“I was tellin’ Timbit here that ya ain’t gonna have a problem with him sleepin’ over,” he said. “Damn kid wouldn’t shut the fuck up with his hesitatin’.”

Tim’s cheeks pinked a little and Jason rolled his eyes--for what had to be the third time in a row--when he said, “It’s just a little hard for me to believe!”

Pushing himself up on his elbows, Jason gave Tim the most Done look he could muster and drawled, “Well, ya better start believein’.”

Glancing over to where Bruce was still standing, Jason raised a brow at him.

Bruce understood it as a cue to say something, which, good, Jason was going to go mad if he had to put up with Tim’s hesitation any longer.

“I don’t mind if you sleep over at all, Tim,” Bruce reassured with a small smile, ruffling Tim’s hair when he’d walked over. “You know our door is always open to you.”

“I fuckin’ told ya,” Jason immediately crowed in triumph.

Tim threw a couch pillow at him and Jason laughed.

"Do you know when you're planning on having the sleep over?" Bruce asked, walking over to ruffle Jason's hair too.

Jason allowed it, tilting his head up at his dad, and said, "Could he sleep over t'morrow? S'a Friday."

"I'm home all week for the next two weeks," Bruce answered, looking over at Tim then back at Jason again, pocketing his hands. "If you two wanted, Tim could sleep over every day."

That was an even better deal than Jason thought they'd get, and he sent an excited look over at Tim.

"Ya heard? Two weeks! We could take ya ta school too!"

Looking at Tim, Bruce asked, "Are your parents in town?"

Of course, Tim shook his head. Jason was going to fight his parents one day.

"They left this morning," he said. "Mrs. Mac isn't staying with me anymore either. Mom and Dad fired her."

Bruce frowned and Jason scowled. Tim had liked Mrs. Mac.

"How long are they going to be gone for?" Bruce prompted, and Jason could sense where this was going.

Tim made a face as he thought. "Two months, I think?"

Bruce made some weird noise and said, "You can stay with us until they come back. I can probably get Hal or someone else to cover for me for a month, and I think Dick is going to be home the month I leave again. He can stay with you two."

"Don't forget Ms. Esther from across the hall," Jason added, smiling. "An' James."

Bruce nodded. "And Ms. Esther and her son James."

Tim looked both excited and nervous at the same time.

"Are you sure, Mr. Wayne…?"

Face softening, Bruce kneeled down in front of Tim on the couch. "It's just Bruce, Tim. And I am very sure."

Tim's face lit up and he threw his arms around Bruce's neck in a hug that Bruce didn't hesitate to return.

Jason yawned very loudly, rolling off the couch to stand up and go change out of his uniform.

He was pretty excited to have Tim around for so long. Jason, for some unknown reason he couldn't explain, was starting to become very protective of the kid. 

It was weird.

"Hey, Dad," he called from his room as he pulled on some basketball shorts he never used to play basketball. "We got any food?"

"Yeah," he heard Bruce call back, and he snickered at the loud crash to follow.

"We're okay!" Tim yelled.

Jason shook his head, grabbing some clothes for Tim after putting on one of Bruce's t-shirts he'd stolen and walking out to the kitchen barefoot.

The kitchen was okay, but the pan and two broken eggs on the floor weren't.

"What were ya plannin' with tha eggs?" he asked, eyeing the three sandwiches already made on the table.

Bruce grabbed some napkins and Jason shoved the clothes in his hands at Tim as he made to help his dad.

"That was Ms. Esther's pan, and I was planning on making her an omelette as a thank you," Bruce explained as Tim disappeared to change into the clothes without argument, wrinkling his nose.

Jason snorted, straightening to toss the dirty napkins away, and snarked, "The floor sure 'preciat'd the eggs."

Bruce sighed and threw away his napkins too.

Wordlessly, Jason held his hand out, staring at Bruce.

His dad stared back at him.

Tim walked into the room and stared at them both, brow wrinkled in confusion.

Jason quirked an eyebrow of his own and Bruce made a face as he handed Jason the pot.

"Outta my kitch'n," Jason said, smiling. "I got ya covered with tha omelette." He paused, considering. "It ain't gonna be tha best but s'gonna be better than whatever ya were gonna scrape t'gether."

Bruce huffed indignantly. "Ms. Esther?"

Jason's grin grew. "Ms. Esther."

"Of course she taught you how to make omelettes," Bruce sighed. "Okay. I'm going to call Hal, and when you're done with being Master Chef Jason, we can go to the grocery store."

"'kay," Jason answered, sifting through cabinets for the ingredients he was going to use. "Timbo, ya wanna help or jus' stand there?"

Tim seemed surprised to be addressed, and Jason definitely hadn't forgotten about him. Tim would be included in everything Jason could bring him into.

"I don't know how to make an omelette," he admitted, and Jason shrugged.

"S'alright. I can teach ya."

Tim seemed to consider before he walked over.

Jason and Tim spent the next few minutes making the meal, then waited for Bruce to finish his phonecall with Hal as they knocked on Ms. Esther's door, delivered the pan and omelette, hugged and kissed her, then returned with a plate stacked with home-made treats.

When they walked back into the apartment, Bruce was shrugging into a jacket.

"We gonna go?" Jason asked, popping a pastry into his mouth.

Bruce grabbed one of the baked goods for himself, taking a bite, ruffled Jason's hair then Tim's, swallowed the food in his mouth, and answered, "Yes. Go put on shoes and a sweater."

Jason rolled his eyes, grabbing two more pastries, and dashed off to his room.

As he put on his shoes and chewed on the delectable treats Ms. Esther had given them, Jason smiled to himself.

Yeah he was fifteen and one of his best friends was four years younger, but that didn't matter. He was happy with his choice in friendships, and nobody ever said sleepovers had an age limit.

He was looking forward to the next two months.

[lucastheunlucky]

Run; Miles & Luke - Part 2

In Continuation to Part 1

Set up: 

Miles had got Lucas off to sleep in the spare room, making sure all the doors and windows were locked and alarmed. Not so much to keep Luke in (although he was half-worried the poor guy might freak out and run away again) but to keep anyone who might be watching them out. One benefit of having a German Shepherd was that they were always on alert, so even if Miles didn’t catch whoever might be there, Duke would. 

He hardly slept, almost too frantic to drift off. He did eventually though, drifting in and out of wakefulness a few times, barely on the edge of dreaming before he finally gave up and got up to make breakfast. He looked in on Luke a few times just to make sure he was still there. Poor kid must’ve been exhausted. By the time he finally heard the door to the spare room open, it was midday. “Morning.” Miles looked at him, still almost unable to believe he was real. “How’d you sleep?”

Luke had woken and for a moment didn't realize where he was, the bed unfamiliar, and the wall he was facing not filled with the usual sunshine. When he saw Miles in his kitchen and himself standing only a few feet from him, every single cell in his body screamed to fucking run. Bolt as fast as he could, even barefoot, and with Duke staring at him. The familiarness of the question was so strange, and when was the last time he even had someone say that to him? He rubbed his heart as stress spread under the surface. 

"Morning? Is it? I haven't slept that hard in a long time," he admitted, walking forward, with a gentle pat on Duke's head in passing, before he sat down in a chair and laid his head down on the table with folded arms. "Did you sleep? You look like you've been spinning things in your head for hours."

“Sort of not,” Miles answered. “It’s a little after twelve.” His brother was there. His brother… was right there. It was impossible not to repeat that over and over in his head for however long it took him to believe it. “I was in and out. I’m kind of fighting the feeling like I’m gonna wake up any minute now and you’ll be gone.” He looked at Luke with sincerity. “I missed you, bro. We all did. We thought you were--” He was going to say ‘dead’ but he couldn’t get the word out. “You know.” 

"Dead--" Luke said the word easily and sighed lightly, really not wanting to draw from that pool of memories already. It was so easy to shove it all away, just let it be this forgetful spot in his mind, but it never was. Continuously, he's reminded in the mirror or shower with scars, not ones he's earned but given. "Alright--" he said with faint determination and tugged his shirt collar to pull it over his head. He quickly palmed his face to hopefully not show how much stress this was on him. "I need to say this quickly because it fucks with me. So-- they gunned me down-- shot me twice here first." Showing the starburst scars in his chest and lower rib cage that didn't get seen nearly as much. "Stupid bullets got stuck in there but didn't take me down. Missed my heart, not surprising since it was from a damn car and it was moving. Ah, but then, I look over and bam--" 

His breath shakes, and his eyes glance up, holding his fingers to his head. "Just like that, man, maybe four seconds. Four seconds and I was fucking gone."

Miles hated that word coming from Lucas’ lips, but he nodded sternly. He was mad, not at Luke, but this whole damn situation. Their entire family had been grieving and who knew what Luke had gone through? When he said the word torture, had he meant it literally? Miles could immediately tell he was different. He was darker, more haunted. It was as if Lucas had been living under a black cloud. He clenched his jaw as Luke went through his scars. His stomach was turning itself inside out. “Jesus. Sick bastards.” He was going to make some coffee, but maybe tea was a better idea to calm Luke down, or to calm himself down. “Do you know anything about them?” 

Luke knew Miles would be mad, and he actually expected to get yelled at because it was his fault for bringing him this pain. A small, broken part of him wanted Miles to just go off on him, hit him, or tell Luke he deserved it. If he had just not wandered off when he was a teen or if he had just gone to that school in Texas as his dad wanted, none of this would have happened. He closed his eyes, pulled his shirt on, and started pacing. He didn't know how to explain this without sounding crazy, and little whispers were filling his mind now that he's scratched that memory. "Miles, they put me in the ground. They thought I was dead, but I woke up there. That guy-- " his voice wavered, and he worried his lip. "He said he saved me--" A beaten, faintly insane laugh spilled out, "can you believe that brother? Saved me. That's what I know about him. He hurts me, kills me, and makes sure I come back. Heh-- heh -- so we can do it again. How do I fight that?" He finished, sounding resigned.

“They fucking what?!” The idea of his baby brother having to dig his way out of a shallow grave… Miles wanted to throw up. This sounded like some serious fucking gaslighting. If it’d been pure hate, some hapless hunter just trying to kill wolves because they were wolves, that would be one thing, but this guy was sadistic. “He didn’t save you. You saved you, okay? You’re the best, strongest person I know. I’ve missed you like hell.” He handed Luke a cup of tea, leading him to the couch so they could sit. “What does he look like? Does he have an accent? Any distinguishing features?”

Lucas accepted the warm drink and walked with Miles over to the couch. Sipping it carefully, it was honestly delicious and soothing. 'Thanks," What did he look like? Lucas' head pounded. Various memories showed the silhouette of the man but never his entire face. There were so many blurry edges like his mind refused to put it together. Remembering seemed to come with bringing up something awful in him. "He always hides his face," he managed, "but he has a beard, scruffy with a mustache, gray and white hair. His teeth are so white and straight." He sets the cup down, afraid he might break it as he squirms and pulls his legs up and tries to remember. "Speaks like he's always talking through a smile until he's mad." The edges of his sight darken at that thought, and he feels himself drifting, his breathing slows and his gaze lands in the distance space across the room. "He talks southern-- wears a cowboy hat, usually white, taller than us." 

Miles just sat down. Duke walked in circles for a bit and then lay down near Luke’s feet. “Guess he missed you,” Miles chuckled softly. Duke was trained in Search and Rescue so part of that required sometimes laying down near victims who were in distress or needed warmth. But Miles preferred to think of it as the former. “That’s good. Those are good details.” He put an arm around Luke’s shoulder. “I don’t know what we’re gonna do, but we’re gonna do it together this time, okay? You're not alone any more. I promise.”

"Okay, Miles," Lucas let that promise settle into him properly and believed it. "I just don't want anyone else to get hurt. He called me yesterday before I ran here. He gave mom my number, I lied to her on the phone when she called me. She cried--" he swallowed thickly, resting his head on Miles' reassuring arm. "I felt terrible. He knew Regan's name and a few others who helped me. I just don't know who I'm going to bring trouble too. The looming threat is hard to manage, I don't know what he will act on. I’ve been trying to pull things that relate to him, try to make sense of it all. But I’m not good at remembering anymore. Do you think we could set a trap?"

“The bastard got in touch with mom?” Now Miles really was angry. He had planned to contact the rest of the family to talk about Lucas once the nameless Hunter was out of the picture, but the fact this sicko was toying with her grief made him want to scream. “Lucas, this guy is going to hurt people no matter what you do. For some reason, he’s just the kind of person who enjoys hurting others. And they say we’re the monsters.” He shook his head. No amount of tea could calm him down, but he continued to drink it just so he had something to do with his hands. “I wanna find out what he wants. I have a lead on another hunter in town. I’ll see if he knows a guy who fits that description.” 

Lucas watched with a hazy expression at the anger darting over his brother's face. There was a part of him that still wished Miles would just yell at him, hoping it would help him process it better, but he also wasn't sure he could handle seeing his big brother in such a state either. Miles was always his rock; this person he could fall into without any guilt and a calm atmosphere. Luke finally releasing all these secrets, all this burden he's carried since he crawled out of that shallow grave was worrisome for him. He didn't want it all to go and ruin his brother as it did him. Lucas wasn't that happy, partying, laughing boy anymore, please don’t change from this. "I know he is--" he said about the hunter. Knowing this man killed humans just as easily, he just didn’t have proof. "Okay-- I actually have someone checking my, well-- gravesite for me," Luke said with a shiver, "I wasn't alone in there. Maybe you will see the picture better than me once we get everything. Regan is looking over an old case file too. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize I needed help. But, I’m feeling more hopeful than I have."

“You have nothing to apologise for,” Miles said, firm but soft. He set his mug down, wrapping his arms around Luke’s shoulders and pulling him into a hug. He just held him there for a few moments, not wanting to let him go. There were days - many of them - when he never thought he’d have Lucas in his arms again. It was only a couple of seconds, but it felt like forever before Miles finally let go. “Now, since your sleepy ass missed breakfast, how ‘bout lunch?” 

Lucas really couldn't remember Miles having this big of wind span and would have to find out how in the world did he get so big. The hug was welcome, and Lucas would probably find a way to get more in the coming days. Miles will likely have to keep telling Luke not to apologize and not to blame himself for years after this mess. Luke had hope. It felt good to have it back, even just a little bit. It didn't change Lucas was still terrified and had no idea what was going to happen when that surprise got to him. He wasn't sure he could handle watching Miles kill them, and he wasn't sure how he would react, even hearing his voice again. But, he had a few people keeping an eye on him now, and Luke felt unworthy in that broken way. He was also accepting it slowly. Hopefully, time could break those isolating habits he's created for himself. Maybe one day, in the future, he'd smile like he used too. 

"Heyyyy- I was tired," he pouted when Miles let go and hugged Duke instead. Both were looking at Miles with the same puppy eyes. "Duke, you want some of my famous cooking. Miles has no idea what he's in for. Think we can make him cry over food? Come on--"

[rebelminxy]

Now or Never - Chapter 5

Word Count: 3159

Pairing: Jared Padalecki x Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Oral (Male Receiving), Footjob, Mentions of abuse,

Square Filled: Foot Fetish

A/N: In this piece, Jared and Gen are divorced. This is written purely for fiction and in no way is to disrespect the Padalecki family. I send them positive vibes and happiness for the entire family. This was written for @spnkinkbingo

Series Masterlist

SPNKinkBingo

4 Weeks Later

     Jared was out in the backyard playing soccer with his boys when Gen came out and joined them, (Y/N) and her daughter not far behind. Ever since they all spent the weekend together out on the ranch, (Y/N) had become a more frequent face in everyone’s lives. Dee and Gen would make time at least twice a week for the trio to hang out and by what Gen had told him, Vicki would call (Y/N) almost every night to hear everything that was going on in Austin. It had only been 4 weeks and already they were planning a girls cruise trip for the end of the summer.

     Kimiko was also opening up a bit to the kids, J.J befriending the young girl very quickly. (Y/N) transferred Kimiko to the same school as J.J. and the boys so they would be all together and Kimiko would spend the weekends with Gen or Dee. And this weekend was Kimiko’s time with the boys. One thing the adults notice, Tom and Kimiko had gotten really close in the past two weeks, J.J even claiming he had stolen her new best friend. There wasn’t much progress when it came to the therapist, Tom not wanting to open up much, but it seemed Kimiko became his confidant, his trusted friend. He revealed at the latest therapy session that the only person he trusted with his secrets was Kimiko, and Kimiko wasn’t spilling the juicy details. 

     But Gen and Jared were just happy Tom was making some progress somewhere. His behavior wasn’t the best, but thankfully it hadn’t gotten worse. And just like usual, Tom excused himself from the game, ran over to Kimiko and took her with him to the treehouse Jared had built the year before. Jared smiled at the two kids climbed up and shut the clear curtain behind them.

“At least Kimiko has a few friends,” Gen chuckled as she watched the two kids from the big window of the treehouse, both kids sitting on the floor and playing rock, paper, and scissors. 

“Thankfully,” replied (Y/N). “Her therapist says she has done great progress in her social skills but still has a lot to learn. I am just grateful things are going for the better.”

“Yeah, and hopefully her positive change rubs onto Tom,” Jared added, kicking the soccer ball to Shep before joining the two women. “Maybe with her motivation, he will open up to us about what's really going on.”

“It's mainly about your divorce.”

     Jared and Gen turned to look at (Y/N), shocked and confused.

“Kimiko broke last night,” she said apologetically. “She told me she was hurting because Tom was sad. Basically, he is afraid that you won’t be a family any longer since Jared isn’t living in the house and….he’s seen Gen with Mark. So add the whole replacement factor…”

“We need to find a way to assure Tom,” Gen began.

“No!” (Y/N) exclaimed. “He trusted Kimiko with his feelings and well, if he found out she told me and, in turn, told you, he would really be hurt and won’t trust someone else again. I just wanted you two to know so at least you don’t feel like you are doing something wrong.”

     Jared and Gen stared at each other, the worry etched on their faces. 

“Just know, when he does open up, be ready to explain things.”

“Yeah, thanks for that,” Gen whispered as she hugged herself. “Glad you told us, really, thank you.”

“Hey, you guys helped me out, it’s the least I can do as a struggling parent myself.”

     Before they could continue the conversation, Dee and Jensen walked into the backyard through the side gate with their kids. They came with a bunch of food and a cooler filled with popsicle sticks for the kids. Jared brought out the grill as they cooked the meat that was brought and the trio of gals got the outdoor table set. All the kids were playing in the yard with the sprinklers on when the sudden noise of a car horn was out front. The adults looked at each other in confusion, but Gen headed inside to look from the front door. 

     It was only a few minutes before screams from inside could be heard. Jared and Jensen jumped from the grill before they saw a man in a suit stomp out of the house, Gen right behind him telling him to get out. A gasp escaped (Y/N)’s lips as her eyes grew wide.

“Papa!”

     Kimiko ran over to the man in the suit, her face wide with a smile. She was soaked from head to toe and barefoot as she ran to him.

“KIMIKO NO!” (Y/N) exclaimed as she ran towards her daughter.

     The little girl hugged the man’s legs tightly as she giggled.

“Papa! You here! You here!”

     Before (Y/N) reached them, the man grabbed Kimiko by the arms and pushed her off him, causing the little girl to look up worried.

“Kimiko, this is a very expensive suit and now you got it all wet!” the man exclaimed in anger.

“Kimiko, come here!” (Y/N) exclaimed, Kimiko moving towards her obediently. 

     Jared, Jensen, and Dee joined the commotion, Gen giving the man a death stare.

“What are you doing here?” (Y/N) asked the man. “I thought you were in China.”

“I was able to finish that meeting early and got the news that Kimiko was in public school and associating with people of the lower class,” the man replied with a snide look on his face, eyeing the adults.

“Who…”

“Did you really think I would let you bring my daughter out here without a watchful eye? She is my daughter and heir and will not allow her to drop down into a world she does not belong.”

“Kimiko has been doing better ever since we got here and you agreed to not get involved with her education and raising!” (Y/N) screamed out, causing Kimiko to quiver against her leg.

‘If I knew you would be letting her associate with this kind of riff-raff, I would have said no and taken her from you!”

“You will NEVER take my daughter from me! You took half my family's company in agreement to let me raise her alone!”

“And going to that little sex club improves her life how?”

     (Y/N) gasped. She went quiet for a moment before looking at Gen.

“Is it ok if you take Kimiko and the kids inside while I deal with my EX HUSBAND.”

     Gen didn’t wait, calling all the kids inside and taking Kimiko by the hand. Once the children were all inside, (Y/N) turned to the other three.

“You can go inside as well, I can handle him on my own.”

“No, we aren’t leaving you alone out here,” Jared replied quickly, moving to stand beside her.

     She looked up at Jared and gave him a soft smile.

“Thank you, but it would be best that I handle this alone.”

     Jared was about to fight but Jensen grabbed him by the arm and shook his head. Unwillingly, Jared followed the other two inside. Once the door was shut, he ran to his office, turning his laptop on from sleep mode and clicked the window that showed the security cameras.

“Seriously, she asked for privacy dude,” Jensen groaned, Dee and Gen right behind him.

“No volume, but that guy gives me bad vibes.”

“I agree with Jare,” Gen added. “The moment I saw him I just got bad vibes, and he pushed me to get inside the house.”

     Once Jared opened the camera that was pointing at the backyard entrance, the four could see how heated the argument was. (Y/N) was yelling at the man, pointing her finger at him and probably saying things an adult shouldn't say around a kid. The silence didn’t help their nerves, but what happened next had them all gasp in surprise and Jared almost jumping out of his chair.

     The man raised his hand and slapped her across the face, silencing her.

     Jared wanted to run back there and beat the man blue, but what happened next made Jared’s chest swell with pride. (Y/N) swung her arm and punched the man right on the nose, causing him to fall back onto the yard. He held his nose and looked up at her as if she were crazy. Whatever (Y/N) said to him caused him to get up and yell something back, and then moving to the direction of the gate. Minutes passed as (Y/N) stood there, not moving an inch. She then moved towards the door and opened it, Kimiko running through and hugging her mother’s legs, crying.

     The adults ran from the office and saw all the children staring at the mother and daughter, Kimiko screaming at her mother to forgive her. (Y/N) stood there, looking down at her daughter before dropping down to her knees, a smile on her face as her bruised cheek turned red. 

“You did nothing wrong, baby,” (Y/N) began in a soft tone. “You have done nothing wrong. You have no fault in what happened with Mama and Papa.”

     The noises of Kimiko struggling to breathe through her tears echoed in the room. (Y/N) whispered something in her ear and then got back up, pulling her child in her arms to carry her. She walked towards the front door, stopping in front of the adults.

“I am so sorry you had to see that, but I think it would be best if we don’t come around for a time.”

     Before anyone could say a word, (Y/N) pulled open the front door and exited the house. She went to her car and buckled Kimiko in, shutting the door to head over to the driver’s seat. She quickly turned the car on and drove off, leaving everyone in shock.

“That’s not the first time he hits her.”

     Jared turned to look at Tom, who was standing there looking up at the adults.

“Kimi says her dad would always hit her mom, especially when he was mad. She said he was always mad and took it out on her mom. Kimi thinks she is the reason her dad hits her mom because her grandma on her dad’s side said that her parents were very happy before she was born.”

     Gen and Dee gasped, hugging each other with the revelation. Jensen hugged both women, comforting them. Jared was seeing red at what Tom said, but he kneeled down and pulled Tom in a hug.

“Thank you for telling us, son.”

“Dad, promise me you will protect Kimi and her mom. I don’t want to see Kimi hurt.”

“Ask her mommy if they can come and sleep at our house!” yelled out J.J. “They will be safe with us!”

“We will handle this the best way we can, sweetheart,” Jensen answered his daughter, heading over to pick her up and hug her, her tears breaking through.

     The mothers and Jensen threw their focus on the kids and what they saw. Jared was about to call (Y/N) to make sure she was okay when his second phone vibrated. He immediately pulled it out of his pocket, not noticing how Gen watched him as he read the text.

“I need you.”

     Jared hesitated to answer, his worry more on (Y/N). But he needed a distraction from his crazy emotion train.

“Meet me tomorrow, same time.”

“No, tonight, same time and place.”

     Jared couldn’t say no, his urge in seeing her strong. 

“Ok, but only for a moment, personal troubles.”

     He didn’t get a response back as he put the phone away. He turned to see Gen comforting their kids, deciding to join her.

======

     Jared climbed out of his regular Uber and made his way to the club’s entrance. He greeted everyone, many asking where he had been. But he kept the conversations short as he made his way to their room. She was inside, waiting naked. His eyes traveled over her body, his body reacting to the view before him.

     She didn’t wait for him though, grabbing him by the hand and pulling him towards the bed. She pushed him to sit on the edge, a chair right in front of him. In a quick motion, she unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants, reaching inside to lower his underwear to pull his length out. She looked at him through her mask, tonight one that went lower and covered half her face. Her tongue danced over her lips before wrapping around his already hardening length. She teased his tip until precum slipped out the small slit. He could hear her moans before taking his entire length into her mouth. Jared’s head rolled back, groaning out in pleasure as he felt her suck his cock, the head hitting the back of her throat. 

     She reached with a free hand to toy with his ballsack, twisting it slightly. His body lifted up from the bed slightly as she sucked him, her other hand wrapping around his length to pump him as she moved her mouth up and down. He could hear the slobbering of saliva from her mouth but she moved away far too quickly. She sat down in the chair in front of him, watching him as she slowly lifted her feet to his crotch. Once her feet was inches away, she wrapped her feet around him, his cock right between her feet. Her skin was soft, possibly from a recent pedicure. But when she started to pump him with her feet, Jared’s eyes opened wide from the sensations. Her rhythm was slow, but she clenched her feet together for the pressure surrounding him. 

     Jared always had a slight thing for feet, enjoying watching a woman wash her feet or put them in shoes. There was always something about feet that Jared found attractive. And here he was, getting a footjob from the most beautiful feet that he knew. Well, possibly second-best since he did notice (Y/N)’s feet. The problem was, thinking about (Y/N) kind of killed his vibe. He felt the urge drop, his cock soften as his mind went from a erotic haze to worry. And his partner also noticed his change.

“What’s wrong, not your thing?” she asked.

“No, it is, just got something going on that has me very worried.”

“Oh, well if you want,” she began. “You can go and handle it. I can find someone else that will distract me.”

     Jared saw red again at that last sentence. He got up and grabbed her by the arm. He was about to tell her something but the fear he saw cross her eyes made him step back. As his grip loosened, she pushed him away and backed into a wall. 

“Don’t you DARE grab me that way! I am NOT YOUR PROPERTY!”

“I’m sorry,” he begged, lowering his hands down and sitting on the bed. “I promise I won’t do it again.”

“No, I want you out!”

“Please, calm down.”

“NO OUT!”

     As he moved closer to her, she began to swing her arms, her hands in fists as she punched his chest.

‘GET AWAY! NO, YOU WON’T HURT HER! YOU WON’T HURT KIMIKO!”

     Jared’s eyes went wide in shock hearing that name off her lips. He grabbed her by the arms and quickly tore off the mask, revealing (Y/N). But she was crying, her cheek from earlier already purple. Jard quickly removed his mask to show her who he was. As her mind registered the scene, her wails became louder as she leaned into him.

     Jared picked her up in his arms and brought her over to the bed, sitting down but keeping her in his arms. She cried into his chest, screaming out her pain. The room door opened and there stood one of the guards. He looked at the scene and Jared just nodded his head, letting him know everything was alright. The guard nodded back, shutting the door behind him. Jared hugged (Y/N) tightly, letting her cry into him. 

     The shock of knowing that this whole time it was (Y/N) with him all these months came later after he got her dressed and they turned in their cards and signed their access away to the club. The Uber ride to his place was quiet, other than her sniffles. He held her tightly, not letting her leave his side. The only words she gave him was her asking him to take her someplace safe. Once they arrived at his apartment, he guided her to his bedroom and undressed her, laying her down on his bed. She never had to ask for him to stay because he undressed and joined her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her body against his. 

“It all began two months after we got married,” she began, her breathing normalized from all the crying. “It started mentally, using my family and his against me. He got me to convince my family that it would be best he runs the businesses since I was a woman. He broke me down mentally, telling me I was worthless and that marrying me was his greatest regret. I told my family but they said I had to stay since money and connections were involved.”

     Jared rubbed her arms, feeling her body grow tense as she told her story.

“It was when he found out I was pregnant that the hitting started. He didn’t believe Kimiko was his, saying I cheated on him. How could I cheat on him when he would force ...”

     Her body shuddered, Jared, knowing that the memory made her grow silent.

“He was the only one and after she was born, he sent for her to get tested, proving that he was her father. Whenever he got angry from something, he would take it out on me. Eventually, he tried to switch over to Kimiko, but I wouldn’t let him. My family eventually saw the bruises and decided to finally step up to help me. He didn’t care about Kimiko, all he wanted was half of everything. I agreed, as long as I got to keep Kimiko and he wouldn’t get involved. He agreed to it but now, he is trying to take her away from me.”

     Her tears began to flow again, Jared hugging her tightly in comfort.

“He wants to take the one person that matters to me, the only thing that was a blessing from those horrible years! I won’t let him! She is mine and he will never take her from me!”

“We won’t let him do this, (Y/N). I won’t let him do this,” Jared whispered as he comforted her, letting her cry until she fell asleep.

[shastelly]

Memories - March Klance Prompts from Monthly Klance Day 11

This is me, a few days behind now :)

"Oh my…Pidge!  It should totally be illegal to be that cute!"  Hunk gushed as the image of Pidge as a toddler gnawing on a calculator played across their mind meld.  

 "I know."  Pidge grinned wickedly.  "That was Matt's calculator."

 "That was wonderful, now your turn Hunk."  Allura directed.  Replacing the little gremlin with giant eyes and plastic green glasses was a dark toned little man dressed in brightly floral swim trunks.

 "Awww!"  Lance cooed. "Hunk, it's so much better than your picture album."

 Hunk had sprained his ankle early in the training session.  He'd come down wrong dodging a hit from the gladiator.  Coran had put some cream on it, wrapped it in something that looked like seaweed and said that by tomorrow morning it would be fine, but that he should elevate it and stay off it as much as possible.  Shiro and Allura had decided that made for a perfect opportunity for some team bonding training.

 Lance had whined about how boring that was and Allura had snapped at him to come up with something better.  So, smiling like he'd planned it all along, he suggested that instead of forming Voltron in their minds over and over that they get to know each other better.  

 Shiro had nodded and told Allura he thought it was a good idea, that knowing more about each other would make them closer as a team.  Hunk had smiled, Pidge had groaned, and Keith had frowned and crossed his arms.  Allura had asked that since they were not forming Voltron, maybe she could join them for the exercise.  Shiro had readily agreed.  It was a great opportunity for Allura to understand more about her human paladins.

 Allura had suggested that they each have a turn to pick a topic and then each share something.  Shiro had let Lance go first since it was his idea.  Lance had chosen an easy topic of share a happy memory.

 Lance went first and they were immersed in the smells and sounds of his brother's wedding. There were so many people and tons of food and Lance was laughing and dancing and blushing from a kiss on the cheek from his new sister-in-law and then finally the memory faded with Lance dancing with his mother.  Hunk gushed and Pidge called him a big sap.

 Hunk had shown himself with his mom and aunt in the kitchen making dinner.  His aunt put flour in his mom's hair and batter on Hunk's nose.  Later Hunk had distracted his aunt while his mom snuck up and stuck an ice cube down her back.  There was a lot of laughing and it was clear how happy they all were.

 Pidge shared a family outing to a science museum.  Her and Matt climbing some kind of dinosaur thing, which may or may not have been allowed, her hair standing on end holding a static generator of some kind, her dad happily explaining why the explanation on one of the plaques was wrong, and her mom brushing her hair out of her face as she fell asleep almost as soon as she was buckled into the car.

 Keith had shared a memory of him and Shiro riding hover bikes across the desert. The wind whipping around them, both sailing off a cliff in perfect sync and jetting off across a plain as fast as they could go.  Then they were eating pizza in a little restaurant and laughing about the day. Shiro had looked so pleased to be a part of Keith's happy memory.

 Allura then shared on of her own.  She was at a dance of some sort and there were hundreds of people in the castle. She looked lovely as always.  She was walking around talking with people and smiling and seemed to be having a good time, when King Alfor surprised her and led her out on the dance floor, the memory faded with them spinning around dancing.

 Shiro's memory was next.  He was a small boy sitting on an older woman's lap.  She was working on repotting a little tree.  She guided Shiro's hands as they moved the tree and added handfuls of rich soil around it.  Then together patted around the tree securing it in the pot.  The smells of soil and the plants filled the memory.

 Pidge picked next saying that little boy Shiro was so cute they needed to do baby pictures, which is where they found themselves now.  

 Shiro's baby memory was an even younger version of himself wearing a stained white t-shirt and a diaper.  He was barefoot and toddling along behind a woman in a faded yellow dress.  

 "Shiro, is that your mom?"  Keith asked.

 "Yes, she loved to let me play outside.  She said the fresh air would make me grow faster."  He chuckled a little.  "I'm not sure that she ever got used to how dirty I managed to get though."

 "Eh, my mom said eating a little dirt never hurt anyone."  Lance offered.

 "Well, if you're the example we might have evidence to the contrary." Pidge teased.

 "Please, my mud pies were delicious."  Lance then shared his memory of himself covered head to toe in mud being dipped into a five-gallon bucket of water by his older sister.  

 Pidge about fell over laughing, "Of course, your first mud mask."  Lance elbowed her.  "Fine.  Allura show us you.  I bet you were a cuter baby than Lance."  She elbowed Lance back.

 "Oh, mabye not."  Allura grinned.  The image of a little girl covered in some sort of reddish-purple goo appeared.  You couldn't even tell what color her hair was, but she was laughing and had the jar of whatever in her hands licking it with her tongue and smiling.  "It took over a month for the berries to wash all the way out of my hair, it was stained pink.  Mother thought she was going to have to cut it, she was so mad at me."  

 "I stand corrected."  Pidge pushed her glasses up.

 "Keith?"  Shiro asked raising an eyebrow.  

 Keith blushed but the image came up anyway.  A tiny little boy in diapers with a plastic firefighter’s hat on.  His eyes were too big for his face and his skin was pale.  In short, he was adorable.

 "Oh, come on!  Seriously, Keith do you have to be the best at everything.  I mean, you just had to be the cutest baby."  Lance huffed gesturing broadly at the image.

 "I'm sorry?"  Keith looked confused and the rest of them laugh.

 "I'm not sure Keith can help this, Lance."  Hunk laughed.  

 Lance crossed his arms and pouted.  

 "Who's next?"  Shiro asked.

 "I can go."  Hunk offered. "How about favorite food?"

 He pictured his mom serving him what a roll from a pan fresh out of the oven, the smell of coconut wafted through them all as she flipped it over onto a plate revealing the white coconut milk sauce.

 "Panipopo," Hunk practically drooled.

 "Good choice,” Lance also looked longingly at the roll.  

 "Okay, I can get behind this."  Pidge grinned and showed her Dad pulling a pan of fresh peanut butter cookies out of the oven.  She'd grabbed one and tossed it from hand to hand until it cooled enough to hold and then had taken a bite, holding her mouth open as it was still warm enough to burn.

 Keith laughed, "If you want burn."  His memory showed a huge pot of chili on a stove.  There were several over men all getting bowlfuls.  Keith stood on a stool stirring the pot, a wicked grin on his face and a can of hot peppers behind his back.  At the first sound of distress he laughed and ran out of the door.  He sat by a large red firetruck and opened the jar of hot peppers, pulling an orange one out he happily put it in his mouth and chewed enjoying every minute of the burning feeling.

 "Keith, spicy is good, but it needs to have flavor too!"  Lance admonished.  His memory was of some kind of stew served from a large pot, he'd taken his bowl to a table and poured in almost half a bottle of Tabasco before taking a huge bite.

 "Lance, we've talked about your Tabasco problem."  Hunk shook his head sadly.  Lance laughed.

 "Shiro, what about you?  Spicy? Sweet?"  Lance asked.

 "Um, neither, I have more of a junk food problem."  Shiro's memory was a pizza parlor with a huge slice of pizza covered in more toppings than could be identified.  He got sauce all down the front of his shirt when he bit into it. The sound of someone laughing filled the background.

 "Okay, Allura, what's your favorite."  Shiro smiled at her.

 "Oh. Yembrem."  She concentrated and the image was of a bowl of purple blobs wiggling around in a bowl.

 "Are they moving?"  Lance asked in horror.

 "Oh yes, I loved the way they wiggled when you swallowed them."  Allura giggled.  "It tickles."  Hunk turned a slight shade of green.

 "Who's next?"  Allura asked. "And this time pick something more specific.  I want to see you work harder to pinpoint a memory with the devices."

 "Why don't you pick one, Allura?"  Shiro offered.

 "No, go ahead Shiro."  Allura offered.  "Do humans have holidays or celebrations?"

 "Sure, several, but we might not all celebrate the same ones."  Shiro answered.

 "We all have birthdays?"  Pidge offered.

 "Okay, a birthday."  Shiro said.

 "Make it more specific if you can?"  Allura requested.  "A specific year?"

 "OH, how about 10, I got a new chef's coat that year."  Hunk was saying as Shiro's eyes widened and he was shaking his head no, but it was too late.  They all felt the sorrow hit them like they'd been punched in the gut.  

 "Keith?"  Shiro asked concern pouring from his body.

 The red paladin sat with hands clenched into fists and his eyes tightly closed.  The image in their mind was of young Keith dressed in a black suit.  His face was pale, and his eyes were wide and filled with unshed tears.   People were walking by shaking his hand.  There were flowers in the background.  He was shaking.  He looked back over his shoulder at the casket laid under a bed of roses.  It was closed, but there was a large picture of his father in front of it.  Keith threw the headband across the floor and ran out of the room.

 "Fuck."  Pidge wiped a tear.

 "On his birthday?"  Hunk asked horror on his face.

 "The funeral was on his birthday; his father died a few days before." Shiro explained with a deep sigh.

 Lance stood and slipped his head set off before turning to leave.

 "Lance, where are you going?"  Allura frowned, this was not the time to pick at the red paladin and Lance and Keith only seemed to do that to each other.

 "This was my idea."  He shrugged. "I just…I'm going to go find him."  He walked away leaving Allura looking confused.  The other three exchanged a wondering glance, but let it go as soon as Allura turned their way.

 "Keith?"  Lance knocked at the door.  "Um, can I come in?"  The door slid open, so Lance took that as an invite.  Keith was sitting in the dark on his bed.  "I just wanted to say I was sorry; this whole memory thing was my idea."

 Keith didn't answer.  Lance shifted nervously, "I…um…I…"

 "Just sit down."  Keith gestured, his voice sounding rough.  "You're making me nervous standing there."

 "Oh, okay."  Lance sat next to Keith.

 "Why'd you follow me?"  Keith asked looking up finally.  Lance could see the red puffiness around his eyes and knew he'd been crying.

 "I felt bad and wanted to apologize."  Lance signed.  "I didn't mean for anyone to get upset or hurt."

 "It's not your fault.  It was an accident that it even came up."  Keith shrugged.  "And it's not like the memory isn't there anyway and that sure as hell isn't your fault."

 "I know. I guess, I just wanted to check on you?"  Lance offered.

 "I'm here."  Keith snarked.

 "Okay, well, just one more thing."  Lance turned and quickly wrapped his arms around Keith and pulled him into a hug.  "I'm really sorry that happened to you." He whispered into Keith's hair and then he was up and out the door before Keith could even react.

 Keith sat on the bed, his face flaming with a blush, feeling the warmth where Lance had been pressed against him and wondering what, if anything, that meant.

[themoonandotherslikeit]

The Daughter of a Righteous Man- Chapter 27

*SEQUEL TO THE LOOK IN HER EYES*

After her husband is drug to Hell, Ava Winchester and her brother in law Sam try their best to do right by Dean and raise her daughter, only to find that good intentions aren’t always enough. Loving someone isnt always enough.

Chapter Twenty-Seven, The Mistakes We Made

Ella

About sixteen years later

I pushed past Sam and stormed to the house. I banged on the door hard with a closed fist. Sams reflexes were slow from the shock on his face. We had been here before with Dad. I would never forget the Amara bomb plan, or getting rid of the mark of Cain by tossing himself to the fucking moon.

I have said goodbye to him more times than I could count. I refused to say goodbye to him for good. Today would not be that day. "Open up!" I shouted.

"The fuck is going on?" Dad asked, opening the door. He was rubbing his eyes, and somehow he looked young to me, way too young to rot in a metal coffin at the bottom of the fucking ocean. "El?"

I reached up and slapped him across the cheek as hard as I could. "A fucking coffin?! And what? You weren't even going to say goodbye, you coward!" I pushed his chest.

He stared at me with his mouth open. Hot tears rolled down my cheek.

"Sammy give us a second,” Dad said, holding the side of his face that my hand collided with. "Let's go for a walk, kid."

He put his hand on my back and lead me out to the yard. He was barefoot in sweat pants and a T-shirt. "What're you doing here, sweetheart? It's late."

"Don't change the subject," I said, turning to him. "I won't let you do this."

"I'm the parent,” he said gently. "You don't get to let me do anything."

"That's bullshit and you know it! We have never been like other families. We are a team."

"Ella, listen. There's no other way out. We have tried." He tapped his forehead. "Micheal is in here. He's banging away. He is going to chip away at me, and the moment he does he is going to blow up this world." He took my chin in his fingers. "Including you, baby girl. I can't let that happen."

"It's not just up to you," I said lowly. "It isn't over, Dad. We are still trying..."

"Shh. It is over." He looked sad, and tired.

"Is this about Mom?"

"What?" He laughed shaking his head. "No, of course not."

"I brought her up and now you want to basically kill yourself. What am I supposed to think?"

"Listen,” he said, leading me to a bench. We sat down side by side. "I loved your mom. I still do. She was my everything, and when we buried her... I buried a piece of me with her. You didn't do anything wrong bringing her up. You deserve to know."

"But I don't deserve to know about this? What? You're just not going to say goodbye?"

"How can I say goodbye to you? You're a part of me, the best parts of me."

"So you were just going to go hide away and die like an animal?"

"Kind of."

I smacked his shoulder. "That is the stupidest shit I've ever heard. You weren't going to say goodbye to me, to Jack, Claire, Cas, not even Sam?"

"Sam could talk me out of it." He sighed.

"And I couldn't?"

"You won't understand until you have children. You can't live if the world is blown up."

"But Sam can?"

"Sam and your mom were my weakness." He grinned widely. "I couldn't be logical with them, I have to be logical with you. I'm your Dad. I've gotta be fatherly."

"You're doing a bad job," I said. I knew I was pouting like a child, but I didn't care. "You're not gonna walk me down the aisle at my wedding?"

"You'd have Sam and Cas."

"I know I say I have three Dads, but they aren't you. You know they aren't you." I grabbed his hand. "Don't do this, Dad, please."

"I'm doing this, Ella. I'm sorry. I know it's not what you want to hear. I'll hold off as long as I can, but when the time comes, and it will come, you have to let me go."

——————————————-

I laid in bed, with the blankets over me. I hadn't moved all weekend. Sam and Dad were on another case, leaving Jack and I home alone.

He knocked on the door to my bedroom. "Ellie can I come in?"

"Do you have chocolate?"

"Of course."

"Then yes," I said, opening up the blanket.

He walked and crawled into bed with me. We wrapped up inside the blankets, and Jack opened up the candy bar, passing me half. "Is it true?"

"Is what true?"

"Dean is going to go in the coffin?"

I sighed and touched Jacks nose. "Little Jackie... we won't let him. We can't. He's our dad."

"I hope you're right,” he said quietly.

"Come here, kiddo," I said, opening my arms. He scooted closer to me and snuggled in, closing his eyes.

"It's almost your birthday. What do you want?"

"I just want Dad to be happy," I whispered, closing my eyes. "It's all I've ever wanted."

Ava

Present

We were at the house, leaning against the kitchen counter. Dean's arms were wrapped around me as I nursed my coffee to try to stay awake. The Lilith encounter was way too close for comfort. "Sam, can I see your phone?"

"Sure,” he said with a shrug. There were bags under his eyes but he still looked wired.

I chewed the inside of my cheek as I grabbed the phone out of the air. "Oh, so it was on." I showed the messages to Dean. We had called Sam a dozen times to get him know Lilith was coming, and he had listened to them.

"You got our messages?"

"What? Uh, yeah I guess."

"Why didn't you run?" I asked, gripping his phone in my fist. "You had to know you couldn't handle that. Lilith is a bad bitch, Sam."

"I could handle her,” Sam countered.

Dean frowned. "Obviously not. What is this about, man? You have a death wish?"

"No,” Sam groaned. "I've just been preparing, ya know?"

"No. I don't think we do," Dean growled back.

My eyes widened. I did know. I closed my eyes tightly. No fucking way. I took out my phone and shot Bobby a quick text.

"Sam, you aren't..."

"He isn't what?"

I met Deans eyes and tried to will an image in his head. I eyed Sam and his eyes widened.

"Sam!"

"Okay, don't freak out," Sam groaned.

"The time for freaking out is long gone," I said, raising my hands. I gently pressed my foot against Deans, signaling him to follow my lead.

"Come on,” Sam said with a sigh. "Let me have it. Take a swing. It was a shitty idea."

"I'm not gonna take a swing," Dean said, not missing a beat.

"Then scream, chew me out."

"We're not mad, Sam," I said gently, taking Deans hand.

"Come on. You're not mad?"

"Nope."

"We get it," I began, "You were just trying to save the world."

"Right. Look, at least let me explain myself." Sam was wringing his hands, a bead of sweat on his brow. He looked cracked out, his eyes wild.

"Don't. I don't care."

"You don't care?"

Dean sighed, tiredly. "What do you want me to say, that I'm disappointed? Yeah, I am. But, mostly, I'm just tired, man. I'm done. I am just done."

Sam's cell rang in my hand, and I tossed it to him. He glanced at it before answering. "Hey, Bobby. What's going on? Yeah, sure we will be right there."

"What'd he say?" Dean asked carefully.

"Some kind of demon problem. He needs us to come right away."

I nodded. "Lacey's still here. We should be good to go."

We made our way to Bobby's. Dean's hand gripped mine tightly, his knuckles white. This wasn't what we wanted. Fuck it was the exact opposite. I wish I'd seen the signs earlier. He was manic. He was drinking demon blood again.

"Well, thanks for shaking a tail," Bobby said as he walked us down to the panic room in his basement.

"Yeah, you got it," Dean said weakly.

We hung back a bit, allowing Sam to go head. He opened the door wide. "Go on inside. I wanna show you something," Bobby instructed.

Sam waltzed right in. The blood was making his instincts weak, or maybe he just didn't expect us to betray him. "All right. So, uh, what's the big demon problem?" He asked, turning to us.

"You are. This is for your own good," Bobby said, closing the door and pressing the lock into place.

Sam rushed to the window on the door and pressed his face to it. "What? This isn't funny.. Ava come on, you aren't going to leave me here?"

"You're dangerous, Sam," I whispered. "I'm so sorry."

My words barely left my mouth before Dean slammed the window shut, clicking the lock.

"I'm gonna head up and make some Joe, you kids want any?"

"Make it a double, Bobby," I sighed. "Have you called John?"

"I think we should leave him out of this," Dean said, collapsing on the stairs. He put his face in his hands. "Everything is black and white with Dad. He ain't gonna like this."

"Okay," I said lowering myself next to him.

Bobby creaked up the stairs, shutting the door to give us some privacy.

"I don't know what to do," Dean said desperately. "Everything is falling apart."

"Hey, it's okay," I said, looping my arm in with his. "Sam will get through this."

"Is this my fault? Maybe I should've stayed dead."

"Christ, Dean. No, of course it isn't your fault." If anything it's mine.

"He's my little brother, Ave. I'm supposed to look out for him."

"He's a grown man, Dean. You can't make all of his decisions for him."

He wrapped an arm around me. "Lilith could've killed him."

"I know," I murmured, staring at the door to the panic room.

"This is gonna end bloody, I just know it."

"Yeah," I said turning to him. I rested my legs on his. "It will. We will kill Lilith, we will stop the apocalypse, save your brother, and watch our daughter grow up together."

He smiled a little. "Sounds nice."

"It's the truth."

"You psychic now?"

"Yup," I said giving him a cheeky smile. "I know, because we deserve some good luck, Dean Winchester." I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his.

"I miss Nel,” he admitted quietly.

"Me too. I hate that we've had to switch her to formula, but I need to be here with you." I gripped his forearms. "I won't let you do all of this alone."

He held my face in his left hand, the coolness of his wedding ring on my cheekbone. "God, you're so stubborn."

"I am a Winchester, after all."

"Yes you are." He kissed me again. "Go home and relieve Lacey. Ill check in in a few hours."

"Are you sure?"

"You'll only be a few minutes away. We can handle it. Our daughter is going to think her parents abandoned her,” he teased. "We can't have that. She will have so many deep seeded issues. It'll cost us in therapy."

"Okay," I said carefully. "Call me in a few hours?"

"Promise." He kissed me once more and I crawled off his lap, up the stairs, and out into the darkness of the night.

Dean

Present

I'd stared at Sammy's door for two hours. My ass hurt from sitting, but it was my negligence that got us into this place so it was up to me to make sure he didn't keep making the same fucking mistakes over and over again. I had to make sure he healed.

"Okay. Let me out. This is not funny,” Sam said, pounding on the door.

This was the first he'd stirred in hours.

"Damn straight," I gritted my teeth. "Ain't nothin funny about this."

"Dean, come on. This is crazy." He sounded muffled behind the iron door.

"No. Not until you dry out."

"Look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have lied to you. Just open the door. Please."

He was playing to my emotions. I clenched my fists and stood up, deciding maybe it was best if I kept moving. "You don't have to apologize, Sammy. It's not your fault. It's not your fault that you lied to me over and over again. I get it now. You couldn't help it."

I could hear Sams fist slam against the door. "I'm not some junkie."

I walked to the door to confront him. "Really? I guess I've just imagined how strung out you've been lately."

He laughed, as if it was a ridiculous concept. That pissed me off. "You're actually trying to twist this into some kind of ridiculous drug intervention?"

"If it smells like a duck."

"Dean, I'm not drinking the demon blood for kicks,” he said desperately. "I'm getting strong enough to kill Lilith."

"Strong?" I flung open the window to get a look at him. He winced at the light that poured in. His eyes blood shot, and his pupils dilated.

"Yeah."

"This is about as far away from strong as you can get. Try weak. Try desperate. Pathetic," I said more angrily than I meant. He was trying to play me. This was all my fault.

"Killing Lilith is what matters. Or are you so busy being self-righteous you forgot about her?"

I gritted my teeth. "Oh, Lilith's gonna die. Bobby and I will kill her. But not with you." I shook my head. "No fucking way."

Sam leaned in as close as he could. "You're not serious."

"Congrats, Sammy. You just bought yourself a benchwarmer seat to the apocalypse," I said slamming the window closed again.

"Come back here. Dean! Let me out of here! Dean! Let me out of here! Let me out! Dean!"

I leaned with my back against the door and slid to the floor. I listened to Sammy bang his fists against the door and scream until his voice ran out.

Ava

"Thanks again for doing all of this for us," I said, rocking Eleanor in my arms. She was sleeping peacefully. I swore every time I saw her she looked bigger.

"Of course." Lacey shrugged. "Maybe you can repay me by getting me a date with the taller Winchester." She wiggled her eyebrows at me.

I swallowed hard and rocked Nel in my arms. I wondered how Sam was doing. He looked cracked out when we locked him away. He was drinking demon blood... just like when I was in the hospital. I blinked away a few tears. I was fucking exhausted. "Maybe," I murmured.

"You look like you're going to fall over,” she whispered. "Give her to me. I'll feed her so you can sleep."

"I shouldn't.. she probably thinks I've abandoned her."

"I promise she doesn't," Lacey said gently with her arms open.

I sighed, placing a kiss on Nel's forehead. I laid her in Lacey's arms and smiled weakly, walking back to bed. I quickly faded into darkness the moment my head hit the pillow.

I woke up to a heavy arm around me. "Dean?" I whispered, squinting.

"Hey."

"Hey back," I whispered. "How's Sam?"

"A fucking mess." He sighed.

"How's Nel?"

"Adorable," I sighed. "I was just too damn tired to even be a good mom."

"Being tired is part of being a mom,” he said, kissing my temple. "Get some sleep, angel."

"You first," I said softly, pulling his lips to me. I kissed him gently.

I wish you could bottle moments. If we could, I would capture this one. The smell of Dean's coffee breath tickling my cheeks, the feeling of his large hand resting on my bare stomach like he used to when I was pregnant. Some habits die hard, but I wasn't mad about it. I wanted to take a picture of his head rested on my shoulder, his eyes fluttering with dreams, but even though a picture was worth a thousand words there would never be enough words to describe the way I felt in that moment. Even though the world around us felt like it was burning down, for a just a second, the moment between being awake and drifting to sleep, I was blissfully and unapologetically happy.

—————

Chapter Twenty-Eight, When the World Burns 

Support my writing!

Get caught up!

Tag List:

@xjamiedennettx

@deans-baby-momma

@linki-locks11

@sonnierae26

[bourbonboredom]

A Reason To Believe Chapter 3

Being an undercover officer is a perilous job and Flip Zimmerman knows this far too well. He keeps his romantic life limited to one-night stands, never letting anyone get too close. That all starts to change when he meets a vivacious Jewish woman named Elle just as he’s about to take on a seriously dangerous  undercover job; infiltrating the KKK. Elle and his undercover work make him question things he’d never thought to before and challenge him to see the world, and himself, in a whole new light.

A Flip x OC Fic

Word Count: 4,751

Warnings: none

Of all the boys I've known, and I've known some

Until I first met you, I was lonesome

And when you came in sight, dear, my heart grew light

And this old world seemed new to me

(x)

“Grandma said today’s the New Year,” Flip told his mother as he watched her move around the kitchen. She was making dinner so it was ready for dad as soon as he came home.

She smelled of perfume, as always, and was immaculately dressed while making cooking, as always. He sat at the kitchen table, his legs swinging from his seat, not quite able to touch the ground yet. His growth spurt wouldn’t happen until seven years later when he reached thirteen. 

“Did she now?” His mother’s voice had just a hint of annoyance, one Flip didn’t yet recognize. And so he powered on. 

“She told me on the phone last week. She said we should call her today so say Luh-Sannatovah--”

“Luh-sha-NAH tov-AH,” She corrected him, opening the oven door. “And we don’t celebrate that, Grandma knows this,”

“But why not? We’re Jewish aren’t we?” 

“We don’t celebrate it Phillip, don’t ask again please,” her voice was clipped but dangerous. The roast pan clattered as she slammed it on the stove top. 

“Don’t mention this to your father when he gets home, the last thing he needs is to hear you bringing this up,”

Flip stopped swinging his legs. He kept his mouth shut from then on about the holiday from then on. 

------------

As promised Flip was at the apartment before sundown, a bottle of red wine in hand. He parked his truck on the street outside the plain brick building. He looked from the sheet of paper with her address, it said she was on the third floor. He looked up to the windows, hoping to maybe catch a glance of her before making his way into the building.

He went up the old rickety staircase, the steps groaning under his weight. He opens the door to the third floor hallway and looks for her apartment number. As he walked he could hear the different tenants going about their night. One room had a tv blaring the latest variety show, another had the game playing in the radio as some kids were running around. He finally reached her apartment door, music drifting into the hallway.

He knocked on the door and awkwardly looked around while waiting for her to open the door. He noticed a tiny brass object hammered into her door frame, just at his eye level. It was a mezuzah, which had parts of the Torah inscribed on a piece of paper inside in order to bless the home. He vaguely remembered his grandmother instructing him to touch it before coming into someone's home. He placed his fingertips to it gently, feeling the cool metal under his skin. In that moment he heard a lock unlatch and he pulled his hand back to his side right before door swing open in front of him.

"Hey you," Eliana looked up at him, opening the door wider. "Come on in, you're the first one here,"

"Hi Eliana--”

“You can call me Elle,” She interjected, walking further into the space.

 “Elle. It smells good in here," he following her into the kitchen.

He noted she was wearing a pair of chords and a simple blouse, her Star of David necklace hanging freely now that it was unrestricted by a uniform. Her hair was half pulled back and she was barefoot. For a moment he wondered if he should have taken off his shoes but before he could ask she started speaking again.

"Thanks, I've been cooking all day. Sorry it's a bit of a mess in here right now," she said, moving back to the oven to check on what was cooking inside.

"All day?" He asked.

"All day," she reaffirmed. "It's a holiday, and a lot of the traditional foods weren't really available at the supermarket. So I had to make do,"

She motioned to the kitchen table, which held an impressive amount of food. Round loaves of challah still giving off steam, bowls filled with cooked carrots and potatoes, and another platter of unidentified food filled the small table.

"Well it looks great," he said, settling the bottle of wine among the feast.

“Thanks! The chicken will be ready soon. I figured that would be friendlier than the customary fish head. Besides, my other friends don't eat a lot of fish so this was the safest option,"

"Where are your other friends?" He asked, trying to make polite conversation.

"They should be here soon. I think they're running late, Ruth always seems to be a good ten minutes late to everything. We had to change her watch to be fifteen minutes fast so she could actually get to work on time," Elle rolled her eyes and lifted herself up to sit on the counter.

The two sat in awkward silence for a moment, the only sound in the kitchen was the record player crooning pre-war tunes. The harmonizing of The Andrews Sisters poured from the speakers, playing a song he hadn’t heard since his childhood.

Bei mir bist du schön, please let me explain

Bei mir bist du schön means you're grand

Bei mir bist du schön, again I'll explain

It means you're the fairest in the land

Despite having an obvious attraction to one another, they both realized in that moment they really didn't know much about the other person.

"So... did you have any trouble finding the place?" she asked.

"No, I have a pretty good idea of where things are here. Police and all," he responded.

"Yeah, that'd make sense," she said, seeming like she was kicking herself on the inside.

"Do you need help finishing anything up?" He asked, trying to be polite.

"You could cut some apples with me, I haven't quite gotten there yet," she hopped off the counter and pulled a bowl of apples off the counter and placed it between the two of them.

"Knives are in the drawer by your leg," she pointed. He stepped back and pulled a couple out for them and they got to work.

"So any particular reason for apples? Kinda strange for dinner," He asked.

"Wow, you were serious about not celebrating, huh?" Elle said, smiling up at him. "Apples slices and honey are eaten together to symbolize having a sweet new year ahead,"

"And the fish head you mentioned?" He asked, almost not wanting an answer.

"You start with the head of the animal, its supposedly good luck. My mother used to go to the market to get sheep head, and would get mad when we wouldn't eat it,"she grimaced. "I'll take my chances with the chicken if it means my dinner isn't gonna be looking at me,"

"Understood," he said, not wanting to think about that memory.

"My siblings and I would collect the meat in napkins and toss it outside to the neighbor’s dog. My mom thankfully never caught us,"

"You have siblings?"

"An older sister and a younger brother. Rebecca is off living the housewife life with her husband and 4 kids in Brooklyn. Alex is finishing up college in Manhattan,"

"Is it hard being away from them?"

"Sometimes. Is it bad to say but I miss my brother more than my sister? I'm kinda the black sheep of the family, choosing a career over meeting a nice Jewish boy and settling down. Rebecca likes to remind me that my biological clock is ticking, she takes after mama," she tried to switch the conversation away from her. "How about you? Any siblings?"

"Nope, only child. I do get the settling down question from mom a lot though, that's seems pretty universal,"

"I guess so," she laughed. He laughed with her.

“So how did you get all the way to Colorado from New York City? Aren’t most people dying to move to your hometown?”

“New York is my home, and it will always be,” Elle mused. “But after going upstate for college, which was a good eight hours from home, I learned that I really liked my freedom,”

“I was away from my parents for the first time. I was taking classes on things that I actually liked and was making friends, and could wear pants without my mother kvetching about me looking like my brother! I love my family but being on my own felt great and I didn't know if I would be able to have that if I stayed in New York. So I took a job in Indiana at a hospital in a small city. I worked there for a few years and heard about a job opening at a hospital in Colorado that desperately needed nurses and was paying more than enough, so I thought why not? So here I am,” she gestured to the room surrounding them.

“That’s brave of you,” he noted.

“I don’t know if its brave so much as I’ve seen my sister’s life as a housewife and its encouraged me to want more. It’s like Betty Friedan said 'no woman gets an orgasm from shining the kitchen floor’—”

Flip’s lips twisted into a smile and he let out a short laugh. She realized the crassness of her quote and put a hand up to cover her mouth.

“I probably shouldn't be talking about orgasms during the high holy days,” she laughed.

“I get what you’re saying though. It’s not everyones calling,”

“And your calling is being a cop?” She changed the subject.

“I guess. I joined the military right out of high school. My dad was in the Air Force so it was expected of me. We lived on base in Nebraska, he didn’t retire until I was in my twenties. I did two tours over in Vietnam before coming back to the states and joining the Colorado Springs PD,”

“Is this the wrong time to tell you I spent a lot of time in college and post-grad protesting the war?”

“I mean, I went over there and I served but I didn't really agree with what was happening by the time I left. A lot of the people around me had been drafted. They didn't want to be there and were vocal about it, but we kept each other safe enough to get home,”

She was quiet and avoided his gaze. He knew what she was thinking. The country was so polarized about this war. It wasn’t popular by any means. He remembered the welcome he received coming home. Wearing your uniform didn't feel honorable when people called you a baby-killer as they walked by. He traded in that uniform for a CSPD one, finding it to be one of the only places where people didn’t scowl when they heard his resume.

“I didn’t kill anyone if thats what you’re thinking. My unit wasn't specialized or anything, we barely saw any action. There isn’t as much going on over there as the news is making it out to be,”

She bit the inside of her lip, cheeks flushing as she took in his words.

“I honestly hadn’t heard anything from anyone who had been over there. I appreciate you being honest about it. Sorry if I came off too strong,”

“It’s okay, I get it. Besides, you can make it up to me with dinner,”

He flashed her a cheeky smile and she shot one back his way. She looked beautiful right now, with her hair up in a loose bun from cooking and apron covering her outfit. He hoped he was appropriately dressed. He’d subbed out his usual flannel and jeans for a dress shirt and slacks. She was about to open her mouth, no doubt to shoot a sarcastic remark his way when she was suddenly interrupted.

The phone rang and she excused herself to go answer it. He found this all strangely relaxing. Slicing apples, the background music, the two of them just chatting and laughing. It was like they'd been doing this together for ages. His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden change in her voice, he eavesdropped into her call in the next room.

"Are you sure? Do you want me to send some soup your way?... No, don't worry about it, you focus on getting better... Okay, I'll call you tomorrow then, L'shana Tova..." she said before hanging up the phone and coming back in the kitchen.

"Everything alright?" He asked, putting the apple slices on a plate.

"The girl that was supposed to come, Ruth, she's really sick and can't make it. So I think it's just gonna be us," she said with an air of uncertainty.

He realized she was nervous. He was practically a stranger, just sitting in her kitchen with this huge meal she’d created. With four people, it would have been a party. With two though, it was more of an awkward date. He tried to receive the tension, let her know he was okay with this.

"Oh. Well, more wine for us then?" He offered.

She broke into a relieved smile.

"More wine for us then,"

——

The sun had just started to sink over the horizon as Flip helped Elle with setting the table, the two extra chairs being dragged back into the small living room. She turned off the radio and motioned for him to sit down as she retrieved a candle that had been burning in the other room.

“You said you’ve never done this before, right? Do you want me to break some of it down for you?” She asked as she came back into the kitchen.

“Uh— yeah. I mean, yes. Please. That’d be great,” he said, wanting to seem at ease with everything that was happening.

She took the unlit candle sticks, set in silver holders, and lit them with the existing flame which she then set on the kitchen counter behind them. She turned back to the table, standing over the candles. After a deep breath through her nose she closed her eyes, waved her hands over the flames and began reciting a prayer.

If Flip was being honest, he didn't understand anything she was saying. He never went to Hebrew school. The closest was an hour away and his father basically forbid it. There were no celebrations in his house growing up, at least none that were explicitly Jewish. He never thought much of his secular upbringing, but he couldn't help but feel in awe of the way Elle stood in front of him, speaking a language that was thousands of years old.

She looked so at peace with her movements, the prayers could have meant anything to his inexperienced ears but they sounded reassuring when voiced by her. She moved to gently cover her eyes with her hands as she spoke, shielding them from the light. After she was finished, she placed the candle to the other side of the table away from the food.

“That was for lighting the candles, which is important for most of our holidays. Think of it as a signal that this is a sacred time, separate from the everyday,” She told him. “Could you pass me the wine?”

He handed her the bottle he brought her and she popped it open using a cork screw she had kept on the table. She poured some wine into a small metal cup and motioned for him to pass his own glass. His was filled as well and he listened as she recited another prayer. When she was finished, he wasn't really sure what to do with it. So he held it, waiting for her to continue.

"Say Amen, we drink it now. Kiddush cup first," she winked, taking a sip from the metal cup before passing it to him to do the same.

“That was us blessing the wine before the meal. This is good pick by the way,”

She turned her attention to the challah that was covered with a clean dish towel. She uncovered them and spoke again. Flip was starting to hear familiar words in her prayers, they all seemed to start the same way.

"Baruch Attah Adonai Eloheinu Melech Haolam…"

He couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed when she moved around with so much confidence. Elle had clearly been doing this for her whole life, and it made him think about how much of an absence there had been of this in his. There was purpose in her actions, the rituals being practiced were far older than either of them.

She broke off a piece of the challah, handing it to him before taking her own. She dipped it in a small bowl of honey, waiting for him to do the same, before bringing it to her mouth and eating it. He followed suit, met with sweet buttery bread and thick honey on his tastebuds.

“That was the HaMotzi, we’re thanking G-d for providing us bread,” She explained. “There’s one more blessing, and then we can eat. Take one of those apple slices you made and dip it into the honey,”

He did as instructed, mimicking the way she held it upward to keep the honey from dripping. He listened to her sing one more blessing, smiling to himself as he thought of how much he liked hearing her voice.

“Perfect! And now—” she took a bite of the slice. “We eat!”

“Thanks for walking me through, that was helpful,” he said as he ate his own slice.

“Of course. It’s weird to just sit there and listen to stuff you can’t understand. If Ruth and her boyfriend were here it might've been more fun, the more the merrier on holidays,”

“I’m still having fun with just you,” he looked to her, letting her know he really meant it.

She smiled at him, just staring back at him for a moment. It was hard to believe this was happening right now. He’d met Elle less than two weeks ago. He only learned her name earlier this week. And now they were having a holiday meal together in her apartment. He was used to moving fast with girls, but not like this.

“Oh no I forgot the chicken!" she gasped suddenly and rushed to the oven.

She pulled mitts on her hands and pulled the bird out in its pan. He'd forgotten about the main dish as well. There didn't seem to be any smoke so that was a good sign. She checked it over for damage.

"It's edible!" She declared, setting it down in the center of the table.

The two of them laughed before digging in.

---

Everything was delicious.

Flip couldn't remember the last time he’d had a full homemade meal. Maybe thanksgiving? Or going over to Jimmy’s one night? Whenever it was, Elle’s meal was two times better.

Between mouthfuls of food, they found time to converse. He wanted to know more about her, she was unlike anyone he’d ever met. Funny, assertive, intelligent, and had a pretty dirty mouth after a few glasses of wine.

“So you grew up an only child? Must’ve been nice having some damn peace and quiet,” she commented as he spoke about his upbringing.

“It was lonely sometimes. I think my parents might’ve wanted more kids but it just never happened. And yeah, it was really quiet. I didn’t realize how quiet until I started going to friend’s houses. My dad was a military man, very reserved and serious. And my mom was always concerned with fitting in with the neighbors,”

“That’s gotta be hard if you’re the only Jews on the block,” she sympathized.

“Yeah, we didn't really celebrate anything. Like, we had a menorah in the house but it was never lit. My parents said it was an heirloom and was too delicate for that, but I think my mom just didn't want the neighbors seeing. We even had a christmas tree up in later years,”

“Wow thats really bizarre. New York had literally everything. No one cared what you were doing for the most part. A lot of our neighbors were Jewish so there was never a second thought celebrating anything. I suppose that’s why my parents came here, the freedom of religion. There wasn’t much of that in Germany before they came over. Now they like to go all out,”

“They came before the war then?” he asked.

“Yep, 1937. They had my sister just a few months after arriving in America. Kind of an anchor baby, but don’t tell her that,”

“Do you speak German then?”

“German, Yiddish and Hebrew. They taught us German at home and we learned Hebrew in Hebrew school. We learned a little Yiddish too, but that’s just for talking at home, mostly simple stuff. I kinda wish I knew more,”

“Well, that’s still three more languages than I can speak,”

“I thought of going to school to study language. But then my mother said that’d be a good way to meet a husband and I decided to switch to nursing so I could make enough money on my own. And maybe to piss her off a bit,”

Flip laughed. He knew a lot of women went to college to get their MRS. degree, but he hadn’t heard of one who went to specifically avoid marriage.

“I’m sure she was thrilled. Eight hours away, protesting the war, and wearing pants,” he mused.

“Oh, she was ready to arrange a marriage at that point. I made the mistake of bringing home a box of rubbers one holiday break. She snooped around my bag and found it, I thought she was going to drop dead right there,”

He roared with laughter at the thought. Condoms were a very scandalous thing for a single woman to be carrying around in the 1960’s. For her even to obtain them was a mystery he thought was best unsolved. She was certainly ready to cause trouble at ever turn, and he loved it.

“I stole a cigarette from my father in middle school and went to the edge of the base to smoke it. One of the other officers caught me and told my dad. I don’t think I was more scared in my life than coming home and finding him in the living room with a belt next to him,”

She gasped before laughing again.

“Well was it worth it?”

“I smoke the same brand as him after all these years, it all worked out somehow,”

“I’m having trouble picturing you as a little trouble-maker, officer Zimmerman,” she confided, lips turned up.

“And I can’t see you as prim and proper. I saw you in your nurse uniform just a few days ago, looking all professional and crisp but then you’re telling me stories that make you out to be a hell-raiser,”

“I was a part of the National Organization for Women back in New York and Indiana, not to keep adding on to your narrative,”

N.O.W. was something he’d read about in the news, or seen on tv. A feminist group that was often demonized and dismissed. Passed off as a bunch of crazy women looking to achieve something that would never come about. He’d take those news stories with a grain of salt. He saw nothing wrong with a strong woman.

“A bra burn-er huh? You might need them here in Colorado, it gets pretty cold you know,” he teased.

“I’ll have you know my bras are fully in tact, thank you very much! We were more focused on getting the Equal Rights Amendment passed,” she informs him.

“Best of luck getting anything passed in Congress. But maybe there’s a chapter around here you could join,” he offered.

“You’re okay with me being a feminist?” she asked.

He was taken aback for a moment, unsure of how to answer that.

“Yeah. I don’t see anything wrong with that. Gotta be passionate about something, right?”

“And what are you passionate about Flip Zimmerman?” she rested her chin on her hand as she waited for his response.

He didn’t have one.

“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “But this chicken sure is a forerunner,”

She gave him an odd little smile, somewhere between amusement and pity.

“You can take some home if you’d like, there’s more than enough,”

“I might have to take you up on that,”

They talked the night away, moving from the table to the couch once they were both full. The wine bottle followed them, perching on the coffee table as they spoke. They were just touching, her figure curled up on the cushion next to him, the two of them facing each other in the dim light.

She made him laugh like crazy and he did the same. They exchanged more childhood stories, and he filled her in on some of the more wild cases he’d been apart of on the force. Once they had both finished their last glass, things started to get heated.

What was ‘just touching’ became his large hand resting on her thigh. She rested her hand on his bicep as they spoke. And slowly, their faces grew closer and closer together until their words died on their lips. He was the one who bridged the gap, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. He was testing his luck, seeing if she was feeling the same way he was. She quickly returned the kiss, deepening between them.

It wasn’t long before the two of them were making out on her couch like teenagers. She moved to his lap, straddling him as they kissed. His hands settled on her waist and her’s rested on his shoulders. Flip hadn’t done this in a long while, just kiss a girl, really take his time. It was nice.

She broke a part their kiss, touching her nose to his as she spoke with a hushed tone.

“I have another bottle of wine we could open if you wanna stay a while,”

He thought about it. Of course he wanted to spend the night with her, she was fucking gorgeous. He would spend every night with her if he could. But that was part of the problem.

He wasn’t going to be able to one-and-done it with Elle. He liked her too much. He liked getting to know her and eating dinner with her and even preparing dinner with her. He wanted to get to know a girl with her clothes still on. Who was he turning in to?

New year, new Flip Zimmerman.

“As much as I would love that sweetheart, I gotta get up early for work tomorrow,” he heard himself say.

She looked disappointed. He felt disappointed in himself, to be honest.

“But this was nice. I’d like to do it again sometime,” he assured.

“You know Rosh Hashanah only happens once a year, right?” she teased. He chuckled.

“I mean us getting together and having a good time. Maybe more of this?” He accentuated his words by rubbing his hands down her sides.

“I think that could be arranged,” she hummed. “Yom Kippur in next week, I suppose you don’t so anything for that either?”

“I can’t say I do,”

“Well if you’re not up for fasting, you’re welcome to break fast with me. Maybe with some Chinese food from the place around the corner?”

“I’d like that. Not the fasting part, but after,”

She kissed him again, looping her arms around his neck as if to keep him there just a little bit longer. He felt himself getting tighter in his jeans, a sign that he should stop before the alcohol makes any major decision for them. He broke the kiss, lifting her from his lap with ease before setting her on her feet.

Her curls were slightly disheveled and her blouse was un-tucking but she still looked beautiful. She ran a finger over his Star of David before trailing into the next room.

“I’ll pack some of this up for you. You can get the Tupperware back to me whenever, there’s no rush,” she called from the other room.

he awkwardly stood on the doorway of the kitchen as she worked, not wanting to get in her way. She seemed to know what she was doing.

“You need any help with the clean up?” he asked.

“No, thanks for asking but don’t worry about it. It’ll help me sober up,” she joked. At least he wasn’t the only one who needed the break from the wine.

She strode over to him, three pink Tupperware containers in hand. He took them into his arms, cradling them so they wouldn't fall.

“I hope that’s enough,” she chewed at her lip.

“More than enough, thank you. And thank you for inviting me over. I hope your friend feels better,”

“I’ll tell her you said that, thanks. So I’ll see you soon?” she looked up at him with eager eyes. He had a feeling not just anyone got to see that.

“I’ll give you a ring tomorrow if you want. Around eight?”

Her face lit up.

“Perfect, I’ll hold you to it,” she warned him.

“Alright. Happy New Year Elle,”

“L’Shana Tova Flip,”

He swooped down to give her one last kiss before walking out the door.

“L’shana Tova” he mumbled as he walked down the hall, Tupperware in hand and a small grin on his face.

---------

Notes:

The light irony of having a Jewish New Year chapter released around the first week of 2019. Happy New Year! I tried to write Rosh Hashanah to the best of my ability, my family is on the Lite(TM) end of Judaism, so I asked a lot of friends about their family’s customs to help make sure everything was good. If anyone does anything differently, I’d love to hear it!

-For those who don’t celebrate Rosh Hashanah, it’s a two day celebration that is at the beginning of the seventh month of the Jewish calendar (which is different from the Roman one we use, thats why Jewish holidays fall on different days every year). It’s about the celebration and reflection of the last year, the latter helps prepare for Yom Kippur, The Day of Atonement. 

-Rosh Hashanah usually has a service you attend, but Elle is new in town and I would think too busy with double shifts to make it to synagogue (if there were any close by at all). Dinner can be a big affair depending on what your family likes to do. There is a lot of symbolism involved in the food choices, and with two nights of celebration there are different customs for each night. For example, eating a new fruit is customary on the second night, but that isn’t written about in this chapter as it was only the first night. 

-Kvetching is Yiddish for complaining/bitching

-Betty Friedan’s quote is from her book The Feminine Mystique, which was a huge influence for the second wave of feminism. She also co-founded the National Organization for Women (NOW). She also believed associating with the LGBT community would hurt Women’s Rights, calling lesbians “The Lavender Menace” (which is obviously shitty)

-the 1960′s was a turning point in the national attitude toward sex. The Sexual Revolution in the 60′s and 70′s made sex more of an open topic, but a lot of things were still taboo. Condoms for unmarried women in the 60′s were hard to come by. Also remember, Roe v. Wade was 1973. Abortion was still illegal at this time.

-I absolutely do not advocate punishing children with belts. But Flip grew up in the 40′s/50′s/60′s where corporal punishment was unfortunately a lot more common.

-I head cannon that Flip grew up on Offut Air Force Base in Nebraska. 

-I head cannon that Elle went to nursing school in Buffalo, NY. The State University system would have been cheaper than private school, which her parents would have probably appreciated. SUNY schools were really big on protests in the 1960′s and 1970′s, some of the schools even having uneven staircases installed on campus that make it more difficult to riot (no joke). 

-Voicemail wasn’t invented until the last ‘70s, if you wanted to call someone, it was best to tell them what time you were calling. 

[goalcaufield]

FRIENDS DON’T. - TRAVIS KONECNY

description                                

                                          THROUGH THE YEARS.

                                                     2002. age five.

"Travis!" I yelled as my pig tail braids flew behind me as I raced after the brown headed boy. He laughed menacingly as he ran with my fudgsicle in his hand.

"Catch me if you can, Aves!" Travis taunted, looking behind his shoulder as he ran, watching me attempt to catch up to him. Travis was taller, which meant he had longer legs, which led to him being much faster than I was.

I chased after him until I tripped over a tree root in the front yard of his house. I fell onto the pavement of Travis' driveway and expected to be in pain, but surprisingly I wasn't. However I wanted my chocolate popsicle back, so I let out a cry and waited for Travis to come to my rescue.

"Aves! Are you okay?" Travis' high pitched voice asked as he quickly ran over, my fudsicle in his hand. As soon as he got down to my level on his knees, I struck.

I grabbed the fudgsicle from his hand and sprinted into the Konecny's house. I knew Travis wasn't far behind me, but I still managed to scramble to the kitchen table where both of our moms sat.

"What are you two up to?" Terri asked me suspiciously with a smile on her face. Travis came running into the room but immediately halted when he saw me sitting innocently with our mothers.

"Nothing," I said in a sing-songy voice. Mom laughed beside me as Travis climbed up to sit next to his mom. He glared at me from across the table as I ate my chocolate goodness.

As the moms continued to talk and Travy and I glared at each other from across the table, both of our fathers and our brothers came into the house. They were dressed in all camouflage, as they were just coming back from a hunting trip.

"Hey boys! How was the trip?" Terri asked, and picked up her glass of iced tea to drink it.

"Great, actually. The boys are all naturals. I can't wait until we can bring Trav along with us in the future years," Dad answered. Travis was still the same age as me, but the boys were seven to nine. They were using their bows while our dads used their guns. Both of our dads still thought Travis was a bit too young to go with them on their weekend trips.

"Why do those two look like they're about to kill each other?" Chase, Travis' older brother, asked as he looked between the two of us.

I grinned as I finished off my fudgsicle. "I wouldn't let Travy have my popsicle." I got up to throw out the wooden stick, Travis' glaring eyes never leaving me.

"I wanted it! She took the last one, so I had to have the stupid Captain America one," Travis whined. I stuck my tongue out at him and his mouth fell open. "You're so mean, Avery!" He yelled causing our parents and brothers to laugh.

"They are so going to fall in love one day," Dad joked as he looked at Rob. I grimaced and looked over at Travis who most likely had the same exact face that I did.

"Boys are gross." I mumbled and climbed back onto the chair I was on.

"Girls have cooties!" Travis yelled.

"You say that now," Rob stated. I fake gagged, making everyone roar in laughter one again before they all settled down.

2005. age 8.

"Travis! Stop doing that!" Chase scolded Travis as he tried to pour vegetable oil into the batter of the cupcakes we were making. It was June 30th which meant Canada Day was tomorrow which meant the annual Konecny-Maher barbecue with friends and family.

Chase was Travis' older brother who was ten. Travis was nine and I was about to turn nine in a few weeks. Since Chase was older than us he obviously had more authority over his little brother and his best friend who was practically his sister by now.

"Well what do you want me to do, dipwad?" Travis asked as he set the bottle of oil down. Chase turned and glared at Trav.

"What did you just call me, bone-head?" Chase asked as he towered over his little brother. My eyes widened and I quickly scanned the room. My gaze fell on the bag of flour that sat on the counter.

As the two brothers bickered and called each other names back and forth, I walked over to the flour bag and reached my hand in. I got a handful and walked over to the two boys before blowing air into my hands, which caused the flour to fly all over the two of them.

"What the frick, Avery?" Chase asked as he wiped the white from his eyes. I giggled in response, as the two boys looked absolutely ridiculous. I knew Chase wasn't mad at me because he never was, but Travis on the other hand? He was fuming.

"Oh, you're gonna get it!" He yelled, and I immediately began running for my life. I rounded the corner of the island and bolted for the backyard. I began running towards the shed, but I was pulled back by two hands on my waist.

"Travis!" I screeched as I collided into him. He kept a firm grip on me and began walking towards the pool. My eyes widened and I began kicking my feet. "Don't you dare you mother trucking butt head!"

And he did.

I was soon submerged into the water, and I swam up to reach the surface. When I opened my eyes I saw - and heard - Travis doubled over in laughter. Chase came up from behind him and pushed him into the pool right next to me. Now it was my turn to laugh, and I sure did. When Travis saw me, he immediately splashed water in my face.

"Hey! I should be the one that's mad at you!" I yelled and Travis laughed.

"I know, but I still love you though." He kissed my cheek and I smiled at him. I knew it was a friendly gesture -- it always had been so I never thought anything more of it.

                                                    2007. age ten.

When I was ten, my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. That was the hardest year of my life, or so I thought it was at the time, and suddenly everything went downhill from there. I couldn't possibly tell someone how many nights I stayed at the Konecny household with my older brothers. I was only ten, but I knew cancer was a horrible thing, and if it didn't go away soon, that meant my mom would too.

Travis, being the greatest best friend ever, was always making sure I was okay. If I was having a bad day we would go to the rink, and he would take my mind off of things as we played a little one on one hockey. We spent hours on end at the ice rink. We shot pucks, talked, and a few tears were shed by me of course.

But one night I was woken up by the sounds of feet running on the wood flooring of the house. Of course I was startled and I wanted to see what was going on. Jake and Alex had woken up as well. Jake made sure I couldn't see anything, and the only thing I really remember is Dad telling Alex and Jake to make sure the three of us went to the Konecny's.

Thank God that was only a scare and nothing more. I was only ten and just about to start middle school, I would need my mother for the moments when the petty girls got to be too much or I needed to gush over a boy. But I knew that if the worse case scenario were to happen, I would always have Terri. I already told her every detail that was going on my life anyway.

The three of us had walked right next door to Travis', and luckily Terri was awake. Dad had texted her letting her know what was going on and she had open arms for us. I was like her daughter since she didn't have any, so as soon as she saw me she engulfed me in a hug and asked me if I was okay. Travis had heard the front door open and came downstairs from his room.

"Is everything okay?" Travis had asked when he spotted me in his mothers arms as I cried. I just felt Terri nod even though Travis probably knew exactly what was going on. I heard him go back upstairs and Jake and Alex go into the guest room they often stayed in. A few seconds later I heard feet running down the stairs. Terri released me from her hug, and I wiped my eyes. I turned to see Travis holding up two hockey sticks. "Do you wanna go outside?"

I nodded, following him outside into the backyard. I emptied the bucket of pucks that sat next to the net. "Are you okay, Aves?" Travis had asked quietly as we set up the pucks on the concrete. I nodded, but even for a ten year old Travis could tell when I was lying. He dropped his stick and wrapped his arms around me. "It'll get better, I promise, Avery. And then, when I'm older and when I'm playing in the NHL, I promise I'll take you with me. We can get out of London together, I promise."

I blinked back the tears that had made their way into my eyes. "I'd love that, Travy."

                                                  2011. age fourteen.

That's what childhood was: scraped knees, hot summers, an endless supply of fudgsicles and lemonade, chasing the ice cream man barefoot on the sidewalk, and staying outside until the moon was visible. But eventually, that all had to end. Once high school rolled around though everything seemed to change. Of course Travis and I were still close as ever, but all of the time spent outside was now spent studying or doing homework, and the fudgsicles were now replaced with more healthier foods as we both became more serious with our hockey.

Mom's cancer had gotten better. It wasn't gone, but it was close to being gone. She was around for my first day of ninth grade and I couldn't have been more grateful.

"Are you nervous? I'm nervous. What if I don't make any friends? What if everyone hates me? Oh my god, what am I gonna do?" I rambled to Travis as I finished curling the last piece of my hair. I wanted to make a decent first impression for my classmates of the next four years.

"Aves, calm down," Travis laughed from beside me. "We still have our friends from middle school and we have lunch, gym, and english together. You'll be perfectly fine, and if anyone fucks with you just text me and I'll kick their ass."

I met eyes with him through the mirror. "I just - What if we drift, y'know? I just don't want that to happen." My voice was quiet, but Trav had still heard me.

Travis had gotten up from his sitting position on my bed and I set my curling iron down on my desk. He opened his arms and I walked into them, wrapping my arms around his torso and my head on his chest.

"I made a promise and I intend to keep that promise. I love you, Avery, and you know that. We're going to be friends for a long time, I'm not going anywhere."

He kissed my forehead, his lips lingering there for a few seconds before we both pulled away from each other. I took a deep breath. "Are you ready?" I asked.

"Yeah, my mom should be outside ready to take us." Travis said, and the two of us went downstairs. I said goodbye to my mom, dad and my brothers, who didn't have school since today was only freshmen, and we went over to Travis' house.

Terri was sitting at the dining table with a book and coffee in hand. She heard the front door close and she perked up, looking up at the two of us.

"Oh don't you look gorgeous, Avery! Travis, you're going to have to watch the boys for this one," Terri teased. I smiled at her and felt my cheeks get hot. Travis and I had both trained endlessly this summer, and that resulted in the two of us both getting more fit. Trav played for the Elgin-Middlesex Chiefs meanwhile I played for the London Devilettes. "Alright you two, lets head to the high school."

Travis and I both got into the backseat of the car. Travis noticed my jitters and grabbed my hand, squeezing it momentarily. Terri apparently saw this and the two of us met eyes in the rear view mirror. She raised her eyebrows, a smile on her face and I just laughed it off. Nothing would ever happen between the two of us and I was sure of it.

We got to the high school a few short minutes later which was a little sooner than I would have liked. Instead of complaining like I normally would, I got out of the car and thanked Terri before Trav and I walked into the school together, hand in hand. I didn't even realize that until we got to our friends.

"So, when did this happen?" Lawson asked, looking between the two of us. His eyes eventually settled on me and mine widened.

"We're just friends!" I exclaimed as both Travis and I pulled our hands apart.

"My mom was teasing us. Aves and I walked into preschool, kindergarten, and the first day of middle school holding hands," Travis said, and well, he wasn't lying.

                                                  2012. age fifteen.

Fifteen was when I went to my first high school party. And it wasn't even a "party", it was just a bunch of friends together hanging out. There was no alcohol, but a Toronto Maple Leafs game on the TV. Pretty typical for a bunch of hockey players.

"Alright, you guys are boring, why don't we play a game or something?" Lauren asked from her seat on the couch. I had gotten kicked off the couch and was on the floor in between Travis and Lawson.

"What about a game of truth or dare? It's stupid, but it's something to do at least," Lawson suggested. The others in the room agreed and we all formed a circle on the ground.

"Alright, who's up first?" Dalton asked, looking around the room until his eyes landed on Luke. "Luke, why don't you start us off?"

Sitting across from me, Luke's eyes lit up and a mischievous smile formed on his face. "TK, truth or dare?"

Travis leaned back on his arms nonchalantly. "Hit me with your best dare, Hughes." He spoke. I chuckled as I looked over at him, but I then turned my attention back to Luke.

"I dare you to kiss Avery," The smirk on Luke's face grew as he spoke. The eight others in the room were just as shocked as I was.

Travis knew I had never kissed anybody before. He turned to me with his eyebrows raised. "Aves, we don't have to and you know that." He said quietly, but Luke had still manage to hear him.

"If you don't kiss her I'll make sure coach has you doing laps to no end," Luke pointed out. Travis rolled his eyes.

"Does it look like I care, Luke? She doesn't have to if she doesn't want to, why can't you just understand that?" Trav had fought back. Maya looked at me sympathetically, meanwhile if looks could kill I would totally be dead by Lena who had liked Travis for quite some time.

"Teeks, a dare is a dare," I murmured quietly. Travis looked over at me with his eyes wide. He definitely wasn't expecting me to agree to it. I was only doing it for his own good, I knew he hated laps with a burning passion.

Travis hesitantly put his hand on my cheek, and I couldn't help but feel the burning that crept up my neck and up to my face. I knew all of our friends' eyes were on us and there was no doubting that. He leaned in slowly, giving me enough time to back out if I wanted to, but I didn't. I waited until his lips met mine and I wrapped my arms around his neck. The hooting and hollering from our friends caused me to laugh against Travis' lips, which ultimately left the two of us to pull away from each other.

"Well shit," Tanner mumbled. I tore my eyes away from Travis to look down at my lap. I don't know why I was embarrassed, but I was.

The game continued, Tanner having to lick a section from Luke's goalie equipment, Lauren had to jump into the pool with her clothes on, Lawson had to eat a spoonful of mayo, and Maya had to confess her fake love for Tanner's brother over the phone.

"Aves, truth or dare," Lauren asked me. My eyes widened. Either way I was going to get something awful, knowing Laur.

"Um, lets go dare?" I said, my statement sounding more of a question than anything.

"Switch clothes with the person to your... left." She said. I groaned loudly and looked to my left. Sure enough, that was Travis.

"Why is everything involving Teeks?" I complained.

"Make it same room, too!" Luke exclaimed. I rolled my eyes and Travis stood up, sticking his hand down for me to take. I took his hand and we walked into the bathroom that was down the hall.

I huffed as Travis closed the door behind us. I sat down on the edge of the tub and crossed my arms over my chest. "They are absolutely ridiculous," I muttered. Travis hopped up onto the counter of the sink and mimicked my position.

"They are. They don't realize we're just friends, and they don't realize that is all the two of us will ever be. We're not changing our clothes because this is ridiculous," Travis said and I nodded.

A few minutes passed by and the two of us walked back out to our group of friends. "You guys are wearing the same clothes still," Lawson pointed out the obvious.

I grinned. "You guys didn't say if we had to come out or not," I said, receiving an eye roll from a few of my friends. "Anyway, Lena, truth or dare?"

Lena rolled her eyes. "Truth."

"What's the most embarrassing thing you've done in front of your crush?" My question earned a few snickers from our friends, as every single one knew that Lena was head over feels for Travy.

"I sit around and watch him flirt with another girl," She stated, a smirk appearing on her lips.

I looked over at Travis who was in the middle of rolling his eyes. "I don't like anyone and my flirting is shameless."

"Bullshit!" Tanner exclaimed. "You and Avery are constantly all over each other. Hell, you guys just kissed and sparks fricken flew! You guys are not 'just friends.'"

"We're just friends. I don't get how that's so hard to grasp!" I yelled, throwing my hands up in the air as I did so. "Can we just move on from this?"

"Whatever," Lena said. "TK, truth or dare?" She asked.

"Uh, truth I guess?" Travis asked as if he was contemplating his decision.

"What's the biggest secret you've ever kept from Avery?" She was suddenly genuine, like there was really something I had to know.

Travis gaped at Maya, and Lawson nudged Travis in his side. "You might as well tell her now, dude." He mumbled, but I had still heard.

"Tell me what?" I asked cautiously and turned to face Travis.

"Uh, I'm gonna be in the OHL draft." Travis mumbled quietly, almost like he was ashamed to say it.

"Wait, what?" I asked, my eyes widening n disbelief. "Travy, why didn't you tell me?" I nearly whispered.

"I just.. I didn't know how to tell you, Aves. I can go anywhere in Ontario. I could go to the Knights, I could go to the Otters, or the 67s..." He trailed off and I shook my head.

"Best friends are supposed to tell each other everything, and you know that I would've been happy for you," I said quietly. "When's the draft?"

Travis looked down at his lap and suddenly he was at a loss of words. Lawson had to answer for him. "April 6th, Aves. We're both gonna be in it."

"April 6th is in a month, when were you gonna tell me, Travis?" I asked. If the OHL Priority Selection was coming up so soon, why didn't he tell me when he found out he was gonna be put in?

"I-I don't know, Aves. I'm so sorry." Everyone watched quietly as we went back and forth. I couldn't think of anything to do or to say.

"I need to head home, I need to study for a history test. Thanks for having me, Laur," I smiled at Lauren before pushing myself up from the ground. I walked out of the house and began walking the short walk home, but I heard my name being called by none other than Travis.

I ignored his voice, but instead the boy ended up running towards me. "Avery Marie Maher turn around, god dammit!" Travis yelled. He yanked on my hand and I finally turned around to face him. That was when the tears started to flow. "Oh Avery..."

I clutched onto him, burying my head into his chest as I cried. "I don't want to let you go," I cried, clinging onto my best friend tighter than I thought I could ever imagine. "I don't want you to leave. I don't want to be here without you. I want you here with me, I need you here with me, Travy."

A month later, Travis went first overall in the Ontario Hockey League Priority Selection to the Ottawa 67s. A week later, I said my goodbye to him as my little superstar would be leaving for Ottawa and to his billet family.

"I love you, Travis," I mumbled into his chest.

"I love you too, Aves. Don't forget about my promise," He whispered. He squeezed me one last time before Terri said that they had to go. I watched as he drove away, and instantly Nate brought me in for a hug as I began crying.

                                                  four months later.

"Listen Avery, I know that you're upset Travis won't be here for your Sweet Sixteen, but you can't spend the entire day sulking about it," Mom scolded me as I sat at the kitchen table, fumbling around with some of the decorations that still needed to be hung up around the house.

"Mom, Travis is my best friend. I haven't seen my best friend in almost five months, and you're going to tell me not to be upset about it?" It came out more harsher than I intended, and I felt guilty almost immediately. "I'm sorry, I'm just upset. Travis was the one who gave me the whole Hawaiian theme idea, and I just wish he could be here for this."

Mom sighed and stopped cutting up the apples. "I know, sweetie. But Trav will be home in two months for Thanksgiving. Go get ready, you have twenty minutes before people start arriving. I'll have the boys finish decorating."

I nodded and trudged upstairs to change into my outfit. It was a simple floral romper that consisted of some bright colors. I put on my sandals and quickly took my hair out of the braids it was previously in for my hair to fall in waves. I put on a coat of mascara before deciding I looked decent enough for my own party. I would change into my bathing suit later when more people were to arrive.

One o'clock rolled around and soon enough friends and family began to arrive. I was outside talking to one of my teammates, when she realized something was wrong. "You're not having fun, are you?" Emily asked quietly.

I shook my head. "No," I mumbled. "It doesn't feel right. All of my friends and family are here besides Travis. He's the one that really matters. I've never spent a birthday without him. He was there for my first birthday, and now he isn't gonna be here for my sixteenth... By the time I see him again it'll literally be half a year since the last time I saw him."

Emily glanced behind me and her eyes lit up. Everyone began "awwww'ing" and I whipped around to see Travis right behind me with a small bouquet of flowers in his hand. I quickly wrapped my arms around his neck and his arms wrapped around my waist.

"You really didn't think I'd miss your sixteenth birthday, did you?" Travis mumbled into my neck. I laughed through the tears that began streaming down my face.

"Actually, I did. I love you, Travis." I don't know when those three words had a completely different meaning to me, but when I said that in the moment something just felt different, like I actually meant them and that the statement was genuine.

"I love you too, Aves. Forever and always."

After our little moment and after I wiped the mascara from under my eyes, Travis and I walked inside to talk on our own for a little bit. I knew I would most likely get yelled at by my mother for secluding myself, but she couldn't really blame me.

We both sat down on the couch in the living room. I sat sideways so my feet were across Travis' lap and my head was resting against his shoulder. "So, how's Ottawa?" I asked.

"I don't wanna be there anymore, Aves. I wanna come home. I miss Chase, I miss my parents, I miss you and our summers together, I don't think that I can stay there." I gaped at Travis as he spoke. There was so way that I was hearing these words and that they were coming out of his mouth right now.

"Travy, do you even know what you're saying right now?" I questioned him. "You've worked way too hard to just throw all of this away. You made me a promise, remember? You never break your promises, so please, stay in this. Stay in this for me, stay in this for you , stay in this for everyone who believed in you."

"Thank you," Travis mumbled quietly, then took a deep breath. "I love you."

I leaned in to kiss Travis' cheek, but I stopped when I heard the sliding doors open. We both looked over to see both of our families coming inside, all with shit eating grins on their faces.

"You two are gonna fall in love one day," Rob spoke with a small smile on his face. Both Travis and I kept quiet, both of us with blushes on our faces.

[formerlyjannafaye]

100 Questions

I was tagged by @janes-mike and @el-and-hop and @caseyk112 like 100 years ago and I just finished it now! Oops.

1. What is your nickname? Janaynay, Fayzers, Jan

2. How old are you? 31

3. What is your birth month? February

4. What is your zodiac sign? Aquarius

5. What is your favorite color? Rainbow

6. What’s your lucky number? 2

7. Do you have any pets? not at the moment

8. Where are you from? Canada

9. How tall are you? 5′4

10. What shoe size are you? 8

11. How many pairs of shoes do you own? this is so embarassing, I probably own like 35 pairs of shoes (but in my defense, we experience extremes in all 4 seasons during the year) and I am a shoe addict.

12. Are you random? sometimes? but not really.

13. Last person you texted? my dad

14. Are you psychic in any way? i feel like i am really good at reading people and i have a really good memory when it comes to people so maybe a little?

15. Last TV show watched? New Girl

16. Favorite movie? Hard question! ET, Get Over It, Moulin Rouge

17. Favorite show from your childhood? Mr. Dressup!

18. Do you want children? I have one! I’d like one more, I think.

19. Do you want a church wedding? I had one.

20. What is your religion? I am a Christian, which I almost hate to say because Christians are represented so badly today and I am ashamed of this group so often. To clarify, I think Jesus is the bomb and so I try to emulate how he treated people. I’m also a feminist, pro marriage equality, pro choice, pro creation care/caring for the environment, I believe in science, I don’t believe in hell, and I hate violence. So...do with all that what you will.

21. Have you ever been to the hospital? Yes, I go there a lot with my work.

22. Have you ever got in trouble with the law? I literally sweat when a cop car passes me and I’m a goody two shoes, so no! Haha

23. How is life? Its alright. I am really tired today which always affects my mood negatively. And I just watched Infinity War last night so I’m depressed, y’all. (edit: can you tell I started this over a week ago LOL)

24. Baths or showers? Showers (you could not pay me to get into a bath! germs!)

25. What color socks are you wearing? none, its too warm out

26. Have you ever been famous? Once I met the guy who won Canadian Idol and my local grocery store put up a picture of us together in the store and had it up for years. Haha! 

27. Would you like to be a big celebrity? I used to really want to be famous, but celebs get a horrible deal these days. They have no privacy and our world thinks they owe us everything and really they owe us nothing so I would never ever want to be famous. I like being able to look like crap daily and not have it in magazines.

28. What type of music do you like? I like a wide variety of music, the only music I don’t like, really, is misogynistic rap and country. I am a choral and accapella music nerd, I love it so much.

29. Have you ever been skinny dipping? Yup.

30. How many pillows do you sleep with? Two.

31. What position do you usually sleep in? On my side with my top leg thrown over so I’m in a weird stomach/side position but its sooo comfy.

32. How big is your house? Its a good size! Big enough for us and then to host people that come to visit us and our yard is huge!

33. What do you typically have for breakfast? I suck at breakfast...toast or a granola bar.

34. Have you ever left the country? I have been to Germany, South Africa, Cuba, Costa Rica and the USA.

35. Have you ever tried archery? Many years ago at summer camp.

36. Do you like anyone? Well I’m married, so yes.

37. Favorite swear word? Shit. It is sooo satisfying to say.

38. When do you fall asleep? WAY too late every night. Between midnight and 2 am.

39. Do you have any scars? Yeah I have some from when I had the chickenpox as a kid and had no self control and scratched them off.

40. Sexual orientation? Straight.

41. Are you a good liar? I think I am a horrible liar, because I value authenticity so much and lying makes me anxious.

42. What languages would you like to learn? I would love to learn Spanish since its so beautiful. Really I just would love to not only speak English!

43. Top 10 songs? Oh my! What a question! Imma be safe and just say the top 10 songs I am listening to most often right now: Fall in Line by Christina Aguilera ft Demi Levato, Don’t Go Breaking My Heart by BSB, Lost in Japan by Shawn Mendes, Bittersweet Symphony cover by Boyce Avenue, Love You Long Time by Pentatonix, Dive by Ed Sheeran, Nancy Mulligan by Ed Sheeran, New Rules cover by Pentatonix, Casanova by Allie X, Gravity by Sara Bareilles.

44. Do you like your country? I do! I am mad at our leader rn, and appalled that Ontario elected a Donald Trump wannabe as a premier (like WHY HAVE YOU LEARNED NOTHING ONTARIO PERSONS UGH) but overall I love being Canadian.

45. Do you have friends from the web? Yes! Its the best!

46. What is your personality type? I am an ESFP, an extrovert with introvert tendancies, and I am an enneagram 4 (seriously, google it. That is me to a T).

47. Hogwarts House? Hufflepuff 4 LYFE

48. Can you curl your tongue? Yes.

49. Pick one fictional character you can relate to? I am Anne from Anne of Green Gables, just not as smart. Just as dramatic and short tempered, though.

50. Left or right handed? Right

51. Are you scared of spiders? I don’t like them or want them near me.

52. Favorite food? Chocolate. Chips and Dip. Dill pickles.

53. Favorite foreign food? I love Mexican food so much I can’t even pick one thing. Also naan bread is the BOMB especially when dipped into dal makhani. Uuuuuuugggghh I wanna eat that so bad rn.

54. Are you a clean or messy person? I am pretty clean, messiness makes me crazy.

55. If you could switch your gender for a day, what would you do? Pee standing up, see what its like to not have to deal with bathroom lines, street harassment, etc.

56. What color underwear? Grey.

57. How long does it take for you to get ready? 20 mins, but usually longer because I don’t like to be rushed so I take my time.

58. Do you have much of an ego? I don’t think so? I’m a walking pile of insecurities.

59. Do you suck or bite lollipops? I used to bite them but I have TMJ and my jaw is a piece of garbage that cannot withstand biting anything hard without popping all out of place and pain. Fun times.

60. Do you talk to yourself? Yup.

61. Do you sing to yourself? CONSTANTLY.

62. Are you a good singer? I have a pretty decent voice.

63. Biggest Fears? Losing people I love, dying, clowns, bats, cockroaches

64. Are you a gossip? I like being in the know but I don’t like pettiness. That said I sometimes find I have to focus REALLY hard to bite my tongue.

65. Are you a grammar nazi? Absolutely.

66. Do you have long or short hair? Its too long! I need a haircut.

67. Can you name all 50 states of America? Maybe? I might forget a few. The real question is can any of my American friends name the Canadian provinces (the CAN equivalent of states? I DOUBT IT yet we learn the states in school. SMH)

68. Favorite school subject? English and French

69. Extrovert or Introvert? Intoverted extrovert

70. Have you ever been scuba diving? Nope and I don’t plan on it.

71. What makes you nervous? Rooms full of people that don’t like me, small spaces, driving in winter.

72. Are you scared of the dark? Less than I used to be, but I don’t like it.

73. Do you correct people when they make mistakes? I do daily but thats because I have a toddler and teaching/correction is important in some moments. But you also have to let them fail which is challenging to do.

74. Are you ticklish? Nope. Only my sister can tickle me and its so annoying when she does!

75. Have you ever started a rumor? Not that I can recall?

76. Have you ever been out of your home country? Yeah a few times

77. Have you ever drank underage? I don’t think so, I was 18 by the time I drank anything, I think.

78. Have you ever done drugs? No drugs scare the living crap out of me.

79. What do you fantasize about? Having more time to myself, living alone like a hermit and not having to work, having perfect hair every day, having another kid, living somewhere warm, saying snarky things to my MIL’s face.

80. How many piercings do you have? None.

81. Can you roll your R’s? Yes.

82. How fast can you type? Fast-ish if I’m on a roll but I don’t use the proper hand technique. I get by though.

83. How fast can you run? Run? Moi? HAHAHAHA

84. What color is your hair? Ash brown with a faded rainbow in the back.

85. What color are your eyes? Green.

86. What are you allergic to? Winter mold. Spring is the worst. And I can’t go barefoot on grass unless I want to have itchy swollen feet that I want to scratch off forever.

87. Do you keep a journal? I have one that I’m supposed to write a line a day in but I am the WORST at it. Once I get behind I get so unmotivated.

88. Are you depressed about anything? I feel like I’m sleep walking through my life sometimes, and depression takes away my ability to care enough to be motivated to do anything about it. I swear apathy is the worst side effect of depression for me! 

89. Do you like your age? It is honestly the best. I love being 30! I care less about the insecurities that consumed my life in my early 20s. I have more body confidence . I’m more secure financially than I’ve been at any point in my life. And I still feel youngish. Haha.

90. What makes you angry? White privilege, misogyny, Canadian and American politics, Christian people who don’t act loving and don’t seem bothered by it, when people don’t return their shopping carts in parking lots, when people can help others but don’t, cancer, narcissists.

91. Do you like your own name? I have always loved my name. I only know one other person with my name who spells it like me!

92. Did you ever get a foreign object up your nose? Odd question, no.

93. Do you want a boy or a girl for a child? I have a boy, and if I ever get the opportunity to have another kid I kinda hope its a girl. I’m really close with my mom so I always imagined having a daughter to hopefully be close with too. My son is a mini me in every way, though.

94. What talents do you have? I have a semi-photographic memory (so helpful for studying), I learn song lyrics super fast, I can sing any song for you in the correct key it was recorded in (what would you call that? pitch memorization?)

95. Sun or moon? I love sitting in a sunbeam like a cat. But the moon is super comforting to me. Both.

96. How did you get your name? My mom wanted me to have a different name in a sea of Ashley’s and Brittany’s (I was born in the late 80s).

97. Are you religious? My faith is very important to me and relates to all areas of my life, including my job, so yes? But I don’t feel like I need to be in your face about it, that’s not my style. 

98. Have you ever been to a therapist? Yes and honestly everyone on the planet could benefit from it! Its the best!

99. Color of your bedspread? White with blue and goldish flowers on it.

100. Color of your room? Light grey.

I feel like everyone already did this but all the same I’m going to tag @earlgreyteagirl, @reddie-to-mileven-it-up, @stevemossington, @maxmayfield and here’s some people who I know already did this but I want you to see my answers haha so here goes @hannahberrie @summer-in-hawkins @jane-el-hopper @she-who-the-river-could-not-hold @thezoomermax @puzzlingsnark @fatechica @mikeweezers

[ficdirectory]

Somewhere Inside (Disuphere series #4) Chapter 16

(To listen, click here) - 13:25

It’s early when Pearl clips on Cleo’s leash and quietly leaves the cabin.  Her sleep had been restless at best.  She’s looking forward to talking to Jesus while they walk the dogs together.

She checks the door a final time, ensuring it’s locked, knowing Levi doesn’t have to work until this afternoon, and he’s still asleep inside.

--

A harsh knocking jerks Levi from sleep.  He checks the time.  9:30 AM.  Really?  Nobody comes out here, and Pearl has  a key.  He pulls the pillow over his head and tries to drown them out.  If it’s important, they’ll come back.

But this person is relentless.  And it’s pointless to try and get back to sleep now.  Now, Levi’s up.  And not happy.  Cleo’s not even around to lift his mood.

Maybe Pearl took her out and forgot her key?

Levi’s still blurry-eyed as he pulls the door open.  

His entire world stops.

She’s got glasses now.  Her brown hair’s dyed blonde.  She’s still short. But tan now. She’s skinnier.  More muscular.  Back then, she was pale and soft.  No makeup.  Like they caught her unaware.  Now, even her nails are done.  Long. Dark pink.  She clutches her keys in her hands like a weapon.  Like he’s seen Pearl do sometimes.  She looks so normal in jeans and a windbreaker.

Not at all like the person who...

He remembers the bathroom. Her impatience as she pulled his muddy jeans off.  His boxers that were equally filthy. How she jerked him out from behind the closet door where he tried to go to cover himself, embarrassed.  The rough cloth she used to scrub him from waist to feet. He remembers the pain as she scrubs and touches where no one’s hands but his are supposed to go.

How he screamed, “Stop!  No!”  But she’d just looked at him like she hated him.  Like she was so disgusted by him.  So mad.   How she took his jeans and boxers away to wash.  How she gave him a huge robe of hers to wear while she washed his clothes.  How he sat in the bathroom, feeling numb.  Feeling gross and dead.  For a long time until she came back with his boxers and jeans.  He remembers how she threw them at him.  How the denim stung his face as she said, “Get dressed.”

How, when Dad came back, she acted like nothing happened. Like it was funny how he went outside and played in a mud puddle, when really, she’d been livid.

How from then on, whenever Dad said he was going to try and see Pearl, Levi never went.  He wanted to meet his sister.  But he was scared of her mom.

All this flashes through Levi’s head in less than a second.  Because this is the first time she’s been this close to him since…

“Uh, hey…” He has to force the words out.

“Is Pearl here?” she asks, impatient.

“No.”

“What do you mean, no?” Carla asks, short.

“She’s not here,” Levi maintains.  He’s not about to ask her to look around for herself, or invite her in to wait.  “I’m not sure when she’ll be back.  It might be a while.”

“Well, where is she?  It’s not like she ever leaves this place.”  Arms crossed.

This time, Levi does use the door as a barrier, only poking his head around.  “I don’t know,” he tells her honestly.  

“Well, she’s always here.  And she called me.  She invited me.  Seems pretty rude to invite someone and then not even be home when they show up…”

Levi has no idea what to say.  “Yeah...I don’t know…”  he manages.

“She wants to talk about Paris.  Any idea why?”

“N-no,” Levi stutters.

“Right,”  She’s skeptical.  Doubtful.  Hateful.  Just like she was then.  “Well, I’ll come back.”

Just like that, Carla turns on her heel and walks back to her vehicle.  A small black car parked in front.  Levi waits at the door until she pulls out and rounds a corner.  He keeps watching, just in case she doubles back.  

Finally, he thaws out, and can move.  Closes the door.  Then opens it.  Darts outside, and next door, hoping someone’s up.  Hoping the door’s open.  He taps on the sliding glass door, seeing Mariana on the other side.

She smiles.  Pulls it open.  “Hey.  Want breakfast?”

“No.  I mean…  No.”  He’s breathless.  His brain’s going a million miles an hour.  He can’t even think about what he needs.  Doesn’t even know.  

“Okay…” she ventures.  “Need to sit?”

“Okay,” he nods, glancing out the door.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

“I gotta go to work…” he manages.

She makes a face.  “I thought you didn’t have to go ‘til this afternoon.”

“Yeah.  I just…” Levi trails off, losing his train of thought.  He’s vaguely aware of Mariana sitting down at the table with him.  Vaguely aware that he’s here in pajamas.  Sweats.  Barefoot.  And probably dirty.

--

“So, things are getting kinda hard?” Jesus asks as they walk through the woods together.  

“Getting hard? They’ve been hard.  I can’t wait til this weekend’s over, so I can actually start recouping my sleep.”

“I hate that we leave Monday…” Jesus makes a sad face.

“I know.  But I am glad you’ll be there at least for the weekend. I’ll try not to be such a mess.”

“You can be whatever,” he says gently.  “I know how it is.  Just makes it harder if you feel like you have to make yourself more manageable for other people.”

Pearl shivers.  “I hate the woods this time of year.  But Cleo loves them.  She’d live out here if she could…”

“I’m here,” Jesus offers.  “If you ever need me to walk both of them...like at night or whatever, just let me know.”

“You hate going out at night,” Pearl points out.

“Yeah, but now that I have Dudley, it’s not so bad.”

--

Dominique’s just finishing up in the bathroom when she hears a knock.  

“Yeah?”

She cracks the door.  Mariana’s there.

“Um...Levi’s here.  Something’s up, I think…  Pearl and Jesus aren’t back yet.”

Dominique decides to forego lipstick.  The days she wants to be herself and dress up a little are rare, but she also knows to take Mariana’s word on things like this.

She shuts the light and comes out, glad that Francesca seems content to sleep all morning long.

“Levi?  What’s up?” she asks, coming to sit down.

He’s pale.  His hair’s every which way on his head.  And only dressed in a wrinkled tee shirt and sweats.  He’s tracked grass and dirt inside, because he came without shoes or socks.  For a kid she’s only ever seen dressed in a work uniform or a button-down and good pants, always with his hair gelled?  Well, this is a shift.  And it’s concerning.

“Don’t worry about me,” he smiles the biggest fear smile Dominique has ever seen.  It distracts from the shadows in his eyes, but it doesn’t cover them.

“You wanna go to the dock?” she wonders quietly, but this sends his gaze to the window scanning.

“No, it’s fine.  I should go.  I have work.”

“At 3:00, right? You’ve got six hours.  We can talk in the meantime.”

Levi traces the wood grain on the table with his finger.  Then, he springs up.  “I’m sorry.  I got this.  Don’t worry,” he says.

Dominique doesn’t know what in the hell he’s doing until she finds him with a spare dish cloth, wiping down his feet, and then the floor.

She doesn’t know what to do, so she lets him go to it.  Watches from across the kitchen as he wipes up every place his feet touched.

“Where do you want this?  You know what?  I can wash it,” he says.  He’s smiling hard the whole time.  There are tears in his eyes.

Dominique wonders if he knows that he looks like he’s dying inside.  Like he’s in some kind of agony.  She reaches out a hand for the cloth, and he steps back.  Wary now.  The smile’s fallen off his face.

“Can I take it, and toss it in the sink here?” she asks.

Deliberately, Levi walks over and rinses the cloth several times.  Wrings it out. Sets it meticulously folded over the divider in the sink.

She watches him wash his hands. Dry them, and then straighten the hand towel back out.

Dominique’s never seen Jesus in a cleaning-panic, but she feels like it might look a little like this.  She walks over, stands in front of him.  Takes an annoyingly intentional deep breath.  Lets it out slowly, nodding.  Until he’s drawing a breath, too.  Letting it out, too.

“You wanna go somewhere?  Talk?”

He looks so lost.  But when his gaze travels above their heads, Dominique thinks about how smart he is.  This cabin has an entire second floor nobody uses because the stairs are a nightmare for Francesca and Mariana.

Dominique nods.  Leads the way upstairs, glad Levi didn’t go first and have her follow.

Once they’re upstairs, Levi scopes out the rooms.  Ends up in the chair on the small landing area, overlooking the kitchen.  Dominique takes the footstool.  Just waits.

Levi’s bent almost double. Fingers interlaced at the back of his head.  His arms wrapped around, blocking the sides of his face from view.

“You can’t say anything,” he whispers.  “Please don’t.  You can’t tell Pearl.”

“I won’t.” Dominique swears, keeping her voice low, too.  Aware of Francesca sleeping below them.  Aware that voices carry.  “This stays between us, Levi.  Alright?”

He nods at his lap.  But he can’t seem to speak.

Dominique just waits.  She’s not sure what else she can do.

--

“I saw her,” Levi breathes, just a whisper.

“Who?” Dominique asks, leaning in, to keep his confidence.

“Her.  I saw--  Her, okay?”  Levi can’t say her name.  Can’t say he saw Pearl’s mom who assaulted him when he was just a kid.  For tracking mud in the house.  For being disgusting.

“Okay,” Dominique nods.  She’s so patient.  So opposite of Carla.  “You saw somebody who scares you?”

Levi nods again.  He’s sure it looks ridiculous.  Him cowering like this.  But he can’t not.  He can’t look up.

“Did they hurt you?” Dominique wonders.

Nod.  “When I was little,” he whispers.  “Like...privately.”

“What do you mean, privately?” Dominique asks.

“Privately on my body…” he ventures.  Levi feels like he might throw up.

“Okay.  I believe you.  I do.  Do you know the person?”

“You said you wouldn’t tell,” Levi reminds, desperate.

“Levi, I won’t tell.  I promise you that.  I know promises can feel flimsy, but it’s what I got.  My word.”

Dominique sounds sure and calm.

“It’s Pearl’s mom…” he gasps.

--

Dominique rocks back a little as Levi chokes and covers his mouth.  She’s worried he’ll be sick until she sees the tears start falling down his face.  He’s completely silent.  Just the occasional sniff gives any clue at all that not all is right on the balcony.

She can’t have him thinking that she’s repulsed by him.  She’s not.  It takes a lot to shock Dominique Williams - but - let’s be real - she had not been expecting this.

In fits and starts, Dominique manages to get the story from Levi. Pearl’s mom stopping by unexpectedly.  Saying Pearl invited her.  His attempts to duck her every time he’s at work, or goes into town.  

His choice to live with Pearl when he learned she and her mother were not in touch.

It seemed to Levi - reasonably - the one place here he might be safe.

She doesn’t try to touch him.  Remembers the way he stepped back when she came toward him.  The last thing she wants to do is scare him.

Dominique’s been through hell, but she doesn’t know the first thing to tell someone who was assaulted by his own sister’s mother.

“You can stay here.  And I’ll stay with you,” she starts rattling off.  When in doubt, it’s always best to stick with as many truths as she can tell him.  “Nobody’s gonna hurt you here.”

“I messed up the floor…” he whispers.

“Is that what happened then?” Dominique wonders, piecing things together slowly.  She remembers their recent conversation.  His hurt over Pearl misunderstanding his need to Swiffer up the muddy footprints she and Mariana left in the middle of the night.

Levi nods.

“I’m not mad about that.  No one is.  Mariana’s concerned for you. Francesca’s sleeping.  But no one’s mad.  We’re not gonna hurt you.  I’m so sorry she did.”

“I never told anybody…” Levi manages, letting out a shaky breath, and glancing up.  His eyes are red.  “I never planned to.”

“I understand,” Dominique says simply.

“I don’t…” Levi shakes his head, breaking down again, and ducking his head between his arms.  “I don’t understand this…”

Dominique stays, stoic.  She sits with him.  Because it’s right.  Because he needs someone.

--

Pearl breathes deep, feeling refreshed and heard.  Feeling good, finally.  But she slows down and squints as her cabin comes into view.  “Why is my...door open?” she ventures, wary.

Behind the storm door, the main door stands wide open.  And Pearl was used to not locking it, but she’s not that bold.  

A sick feeling settles in the pit of her stomach. She shoves Cleo’s leash in Jesus’s hand, and rushes inside.

“Levi,” she calls.

But he’s nowhere.

[drabblemeister]

All Revved Up & Nowhere To Go

AO3 Link: All Revved Up & Nowhere To Go Pairing: JayTim Summary: Tim dips out of prom early; he definitely doesn’t expect Jason Todd to pick him up. Comments: My Secret Santa for @assclass-more-like-assholeclass. First time participating in the @jaytimsecretsanta exchange~ Hope you like it!

Tim watched the dance floor with tired eyes, the world around him glowing and kaleidoscopic. Brilliant stretches of colored cloth draped across the banquet hall, pearl-colored streamers tangled in their folds – and the lighting, dim and sheathed by decor, made the space look like a sprawling neon storm. “ Oh my god,” Cassie said, emerging from the fray, her coiled up-do loose with curls. Her cheeks were flushed and her dress wafted like starlight – a swathe of dark blue powdered in tiny beads of glitter that caught every bit of flickering light. “Why aren’t you dancing? ”

Tim, sitting in relative darkness at one of the abandoned tables, opened his mouth to comment – but lost his words to the sight of a hand curling around Cassie’s waist from behind.

“Have you seen Tim dance?” Conner Kent laughed, slipping next to Cassie, pulling her closer by the hip. The red in his cheeks climbed to her ears and she bit her lower lip, looking like a girl swept up and into a fairytale, all magic and stardust, paired with a real-life knight in shining armor.

“Ha ha,” Tim replied, with no real bite. It gave him the opportunity to take in Conner’s appearance for the umpteenth time; slicked back hair, sleek rented suit, a boutonniere that could pass for a small, fledgling midnight sky – and dark, warm eyes and impossible dimples and squared shoulders that made Tim shift uncomfortably in his chair.

Conner said, “This dance was expensive – come on, dance with us,” and he held out a hand, looking brilliant and kind and smiling like as he always smiled, ever since they’d first met in first grade.

Tim saw it though, the way that Cassie’s grin wavered, just for a moment; he’d been friends with her for nearly as long and knew what this night meant, and thought, blandly, that this was what it felt like to be a third wheel.

“I’ve got to go to the bathroom,” Tim prompted, rising from his chair with casual grace. He was good at acting when he wanted to be, and so he donned an easy smile and shooed them off. “Have fun. I’ll find you later?”

Conner’s brows did that thing , the one where he was trying to read between the lines; it meant he suspected Tim might be lying but couldn’t quite get to the heart of it – but Cassie, unaware, let out a startled gasp as a slow song bled into the room.

“I love this one! Oh my god , we have to dance–” and Tim watched her long, slender fingers curl around the cuff of Conner’s sleeve as she took a few steps backwards, beckoning him back to the lazy, romantic sway.

Conner gave Tim a questioning look as he was tugged backwards, and Tim, being Tim, offered a wry two-fingered salute. And then Tim turned, not really wanting Conner’s lingering attention, equally burnt out of watching anymore awkward, budding adults practice the twelve-inch rule.

Sighing, he set off.

Around the hall, music reverberated. It was a gust of notes competing with the soft breath of air conditioning, interlaced with the tinkling sound of silverware against china as some prom-goers finished their desserts. Laughter spilled from unexpected places, and small clusters of girls stood off the the side, grinning as they stood, barefoot, heels dangling from their hands.

They were pretty. Everyone was. It felt likes a spell had been cast over the bargain bin populace of Gotham High, a Cinderella-like magic that gave the gift of spilling gowns and golden crowns, pearled cufflinks and lavish silk ties.

And Tim, stepping into the bathroom and pausing in front of the mirror, wondered how one could look the part and still somehow not fit in.

Dark hair, combed back.

Bright eyes, too blue against the paleness of his skin.

A suit, all sharp edges, all business – just like his dad. How could anyone put on a suit and have it feel like anything but?

Throwing on the tap, Tim doused his hands in water and ran them back through his hair, loosening the gel that held it so rigidly in place. It came apart like rebellion, and he thought, if his reflection were in a magazine, it would be fashion . Here – amidst a dance set on formality, he simply looked undone.

When the door opened behind him, ushering in a handsy couple, Tim made up his mind. Prom – it just wasn’t for him.

There was no enchantment to boredom, no real magic in celebrating high school to begin with.

Slipping out was easier than it should have been; dipping past teachers as he tugged his tie loose felt less like stealth and more like escape. The ground buzzed with bass-line as Tim weaved between elegant, draping pinafores and glitzy tulle dresses, bumping shoulders with grinning athletes holding cups that reeked of contraband liquor.

One of Conner’s teammates caught Tim’s eyes and tried to say hi , but Tim was already halfway out the door, pulling his phone from his pocket.

I’m sorry, but can you come pick me up?

Tim typed the text as he walked, his eyes scanning the hotel’s lot. It was packed to the brim with cars, and Tim lamented the fact his dad was one of those dads – one who was making him work to save to buy his own.

His phone vibrated and Dick replied: Already?

The sound of Tim’s shoes scuffing pavement almost seemed to echo. A couple of times, the front doors to the hotel opened behind him and he was caught in a sudden, sweeping draft of outpouring music. Against his neck, the notes seemed to chase him, as if trying to lure him back.

Yeah, he typed another text to Dick. For measure, he added, I’m bored.

While it was true, it wasn’t the entire truth. That had more to do with a crush long withered that somehow still had roots and, every once in a while, chose to remind Tim at incredibly inconvenient times.

Why was Conner Kent so impossible to get over?

The question haunted him, even though the answer was simple.

Because no one else knew him like that. No one else knew his favorite movies by heart, could recite quotes back and forth with practiced ease. No one else really got him, or knew what he’d gone through years back, when his mom had passed and his dad had lost it and Tim had spent nearly every other night climbing out of his window and clambering into Conner’s car, where they drove off and into the night, telling tall tales of where their lives would take them.

Tim had always thought they’d be side-by-side...

...but sports and tech scholarships didn’t really go together and that meant none of their college applications matched up.

With a sigh, Tim glanced down at his phone, where Dick had sent the message: I’m sending Jason .

Tim froze.

“Jason?” he asked aloud. No one was close enough to hear, and there definitely wasn’t anyone nearby to diffuse the definitive confusion in Tim’s tone.

Jason.

Jason.

Dick’s younger, somewhat-recently adopted brother, all leather jackets and quick wit – the type of guy you didn’t just talk to, because one sharp glare meant murder. Even though Tim wasn’t feeling prom, this alternative left him feeling a bit like: I’m too young to die .

He’d never been alone with Jason, much less shared more than a muffled hello , when Jason had dropped by the diner to complain to Dick about something, only to catch Tim in the storeroom instead. And, from unintentional eavesdropping, Tim had only learned a whopping three things: one, that Jason was less than two years older than him; two, that Jason had been to juvie, and three: that he apparently liked literature which, when looking at him, made absolutely no sense.

Not that Tim wasn’t an advocate for not judging books by their covers, but Jason’s cover was pretty Mad Max , and Pride and Prejudice just didn’t seem to fit the bill.

He was an enigma, really.

But Tim supposed that he was as well.

It took a few rounds of pacing before Tim got a text, and for a split second, he thought it might be Dick. Instead, it was Conner, asking where he was – which, for a moment, stoked that pitiful little undying fire until Tim made the conscious choice to snuff it.

Tried to find you, he lied, before adding: Headed home. Have fun. It earned a slew of replies; Conner asking again where he was, then asking why, then asking if he was okay.

And Tim – he didn’t answer right away because he was annoyed. He typed out and deleted just go dance three times before rolling his eyes, but the delay was a mistake; Conner came looking for him, and Tim was an idiot, standing on the hotel’s sidewalk in plain sight.

“Hey,” Conner said, and Tim noticed that Cassie wasn’t with him, which, really, didn’t mean much of anything. Conner had a knowing look when he said, “You’re bored, aren’t you?”

Tim took that and ran with it because it wasn’t entirely untrue. “I’m dying,” Tim said. “But seriously, go have fun.”

The expression that crossed Conners’ face was unfamiliar – not guilt, but close. He said, “It’s not...it’s not because of me and–” and was forced to stop, his words overlapped by someone else’s voice.

“Oi, Timmers. We got a date, or what?”

Tim frowned just before tossing a look over his shoulder, completely caught off guard by the fact that Jason was pulled over less than ten feet away, hazard lights flashing in a no-parking zone, eyes glued to Tim as he leaned across the middle consul and into the passenger seat.

“Who is that?” Conner asked, bewildered.

And Tim, having lost all sense of self-preservation for the sake of what felt like an opportunity, replied, “My date.”

Conner’s brows crinkled in concern.

“Tell Cass I said bye,” Tim smiled. Before he’d realized it, he’d turned and when his fingers met with the cold metal of the car’s handle he glanced back, offering Conner a small, departing wave.

Tim didn’t wait for a rebuttal before he pulled back the door and slid inside, the seat cool through the fabric of his pants. As he drew the seatbelt across his chest, he lifted his gaze, catching Jason’s eyes on his boutonniere, on the suit – on Tim’s general state of formal disarray.

“Can I help you?” Tim asked, because Jason seemed like the type you had to hold your own to and not give an inch.

The question earned a quirked eyebrow, and under the glow of the interior lights, Tim learned fact number four: Jason’s eyes were green. They were also intense, and even though Jason was barely older, his jawline was sharp, giving him an expert glare that Tim suspected could compete with his own.

Flicking off the car’s emergency lights, Jason leaned between them to grip the shift and tapped the gas beneath his foot. The engine hummed happily, anxious for him to release the clutch.

“All revved up with no place to go,” he sang, voice low and teasing.

Tim couldn’t help but feel like it was a pass at his attire, but his response came before he could really digest. “Meatloaf?” he asked. “Really?”

It was satisfying to see Jason look even the smallest bit surprised. “ I was nothing but an all-American boy– ”

“Could you not?” Tim interrupted, flattening invisible creases in his lapel. Then, to no one in particular and born from complete bewilderment, he asked, “Meatloaf?”

“Classic rock,” Jason emphasized, and he finally let off the clutch, giving his car the opportunity to peel out of the lot.

When the seatbelt didn’t constrict, Tim found himself clutching the edges of his seat. He could feel Jason’s eyes on him, but when he peered over, Jason was quick to look away.

Tim said, “Prom,” like that explained everything.

“I can see that,” Jason replied.

“What else do you see?” Tim asked, because sarcasm without sarcasm was tragedy.

Jason caught him completely off guard, however, when he said, “That the boutonniere I bought for you looks good.”

Tim parted his lips, completely prepared for some smart-mouthed reply, only to close them, bewildered. “You...what? Dick bought me this.”

Saying it was embarrassing; it was enough that he hadn’t had a date , but his dad had forgotten the damn boutonniere (because he had a knack for forgetting anything important ) and so Dick (his boss), acting as the older brother Tim didn’t have, had surprised him with a brilliant little burst of red orchid.

“Correction. I bought it,” Jason stated, “because Dick would have bought a fucking carnation.”

As Jason cut off a car with little to no remorse, Tim asked, “Is that bad?”

“In France, they give them out at funerals,” Jason remarked.

Tim was unimpressed. “I mean,” he said, “that kind of felt like a funeral.”

Jason snorted, then threw his head back as he grit out, “Come on baby, don’t fear the reaper –”

“Stop–”

“– baby, take my hand, don’t fear the reaper, ” Jason continued, his grin carrying into the lyrics as he lifted his fingers from the stick-shift and motioned to Tim, come hither – and Tim felt a heart-pounding rush of panic as he reached for Jason’s hand and forced it back down, fingers unintentionally interlacing in the process.

“ Baby, I’m your man,” Jason practically hummed, and Tim could feel heat rise on his skin at the unexpected lyric. When Jason’s eyes darted over at Tim’s sudden quiet, he laughed, loud and honest.

In revolt, Tim jerked his hand back and crossed his arms over his chest, irritated. For the umpteenth time, he thought, I just want to go home.

But Jason, before his humor really even faded, asked, “So really, though. Why’d you cut out early?”

“Of the dance?” Tim asked, his head lulling Jason’s direction. He wasn’t really sure why Jason would be interested in the first place.

As they entered a darker stretch of highway, shadows played across the dashboard, folding across the seats with each rare, passing light. Headlights beaded the distance, and Jason’s looked like foggy breath over old, cracked speedway.

“It couldn’t have been that bad,” Jason said.

“Did you go to prom?”

“You can’t just ask people if they’ve gone to prom, Tim,” Jason countered. His fingers were loose against the wheel when he chuckled and said, “I missed it.”

“Missed it?” Tim questioned. Then the pieces fell together. “Oh, yeah. Because you were in…” but the words trailed off. It felt like being caught knowing a secret, and he shook his head and returned his attention to the road. “You didn’t miss anything, to be honest.”

Jason smirked. “You afraid to say it?”

Tim wasn’t sure what he was. It hadn’t really occurred to him, until now at least, that he’d been picked up by someone who’d been incarcerated – and it wasn’t as if he had a clue what Jason had done.

“You were arrested,” Tim stated.

Jason sighed, and it sounded almost wistful. “Yeah. And it turns out there’re no winter formals in juvie.”

“What did you do?” Tim asked, eyes wandering the blackened spills of shadow between street lamps.

The question caught Jason as funny. “What do you think I did?”

At that, Tim did look at him, humorless. “How would I know?”

“You know a lot more than you let on,” Jason pointed out, and Tim wasn’t really sure what to make of that. He was frowning when he said, “If you don’t want to tell me, just say so.”

His tone came across clipped, and so Jason noticed – and Jason was still smirking when he glanced Tim’s direction again. It gave Tim the impression that Jason didn’t really care if Tim knew or not, but that he liked to tease.

“A truth for a truth,” Jason said. “I’ll tell you my dirty past, and you tell me the haunting story of Prom Night.”

Tim rolled his eyes, but Jason was already talking.

“My dad, he was a pretty cool guy,” Jason said. “Super smart. Stole the shit out of cars – taught me. I picked the wrong one though – belonged to the Bruce Wayne – got caught.”

Tim absorbed that – saw Jason in a new light. The way he sank into the seat of his car, the way his fingers fell loose over the gear shift, the way he seemed at home in the driver’s seat. Tim could only imagine him joyriding.

“Did you race?” Tim asked.

Jason’s eyes looked like fire. “When I knew I wouldn’t get caught.”

Tim hummed in thought. It seemed fitting, somehow. Even sitting, Jason seemed to emanate energy; he was all moving lines and forward momentum.

“So,” Jason pressed. “Let me guess. You couldn’t stay because they kept playing Despacito on repeat.”

That earned wry look. “Wouldn’t have taken you for a Belieber.”

“Oh no,” Jason’s gaze drifted skyward. “He didn’t mean it.”

Tim looked up, following Jason’s gaze. “Who are you talking to?”

“Jim Morrison. He’s up there, and he heard you say that.”

“Take the highway,” Tim said, a quickened verse with only a hint of melody, “to the end of the night ...” and when Jason looked at him, Tim said, very pointedly, “Des-pa-cito.”

Whatever Jason had expected, it wasn’t that, and so he ended up laughing, hard . He tossed furtive glances Tim’s direction, shaking his head all the while – and, as they passed a heady strobe of a low-sitting street lamp, Tim happened upon fact number five: Jason had freckles that fell like constellations over his skin.

Tim said, “My best friend and I are going to go to different colleges.”

And it took a moment for Jason’s laughter to dim a bit, for him to think on what Tim had just said.

“You decided this on the dance floor?” is how he replied.

Tim huffed, scraping fingers back and through his hair. Warm air blasted from the car’s heaters, and so he slowly began to work off his jacket around the restriction of the seatbelt.

“I don’t really believe in long distance things,” Tim decided to say. “There are other factors as well, but...I guess, it’s hard for me to enjoy these moments because it seems stupid. They just feel like the end. ”

The thought sat a bit heavy, and Tim felt like an idiot as soon as he said it.

“ The end ,” Jason pronounced dramatically, which made Tim scowl. “If you tell me that my boutonniere didn’t get one dance because you were too busy pining over philosophy–” he glanced over, pinning Tim with a searching look. And then, when Tim looked defeated, Jason said, “You have got to be kidding me.”

Tim shrugged. “It was boring!”

“Where’s your inner Whitney? Didn’t you just wanna dance with someone?”

Tim sank low in his seat, arms folding across his chest, a bit petulant. “No one wanted to dance with me.”

That had a marginal effect – in fact, Tim’s seatbelt failed to restrain him as Jason nearly screeched to a halt, pulling over onto the side of the road. The world smelled like burnt rubber and gasoline, and Jason jammed the car into park.

“What are you doing?” Tim asked, as Jason fiddled with the dial on his radio. A thousand songs battled for dominance as he surfed, until he paused on a slow, sultry song that sounded like something from a diner jukebox.

When Jason lifted his attention to Tim, he was serious. “May I have this dance?”

Tim said, “ What?”

But Jason licked his lips and Tim couldn’t help but notice, and then Jason was shifting – unlatching his own seatbelt in order to get out of the car, making his way to Tim’s side. He rapped on Tim’s window, to which Tim slowly, anxiously rolled down the window.

“No.” Tim said, before Jason could even ask again, but Jason dipped low and rested his elbows on the ledge of the window, close enough now that Tim felt the uncomfortable sensation of butterflies in his stomach.

“Dance with me,” Jason said, and Tim thought it was odd, how much he felt like he could just go along with it. After all, it didn't seem like Jason would let him not. So he was moving before he realized it, opening the door with reluctance – quickly tugged out by Jason who, Tim realized, was nearly a head taller.

“This is ridiculous,” Tim said, stumbling over gravel on the road’s edge. It didn’t keep Jason from dragging him to the front of the car, where dirt tangled with the headlights and ghosted long, pouring light. A car drove by, making Tim feel self-conscious, but Jason’s fingers laced with his and drew him close in a way that made Tim think that he hadn’t had much practice on the dance floor either.

The music came, soft and slow. It didn’t fall heavy like in the hotel; it drifted and sauntered, folding out and into the night.

“Fun, right?” Jason asked, and Tim peered up at him dryly. It wasn’t not fun, it was...silly. Different. Jason’s hands were warm, and when one of them dropped to Tim’s waist, he felt the heat through the thin fabric of his button-up. It hadn’t even occurred to him that he’d left his jacket in the car.

“Next time we’ll have to wear matching colors,” Tim said.

“You could just wear leather.”

“There are dress codes, Jason,” Tim mentioned. “Save Indiana Jones for Comic Con.”

Jason stepped forward, bringing them closer, until Tim felt like he might be able to breathe Jason in.

“Are you asking me on a date, Timothy?”

It was simple banter, but it did something. Tim felt his heart pick up and he cursed his existence – his quick wit struggled to surface, until he finally asked, “And who would I be? I can’t pull off Sean Connery.”

“Let my armies be the rocks and the trees and the birds and the sky…” Jason quoted, managing a perfect impersonation.

This time, Tim laughed. “Okay. You can be Sean Connery. I’ll be Indiana.”

Jason said, conspiratorially, “We named the dog Indiana.”

Shaking his head, Tim pulled away as a song the song changed, feeling remnant warmth and a bit lightheaded. He was tired, and Jason was hard to keep up with.

“So,” Jason prompted, stretching his arms high enough that his shirt lifted above the waistband of his denims. “How was Roadside Prom?”

From the car, a commercial blared, and Tim laughed again as he rolled his eyes. Then, very seriously, he said, “Kind of disappointing. Prom usually comes with dinner.”

It occurred to him, only after he’d said it, that it definitely sounded like a proposition, but before he had time to properly panic, Jason sighed.

“Well, I do know this diner…”

Tim narrowed his eyes just before deciding to tap his chin in thought, caught up in Jason's pace.

“My adoptive older brother owns it. It’s like, a pretty big deal…”

“Hmm,” Tim hummed.

Jason added, “And actually, there’s this part-timer that works there and to be honest, I always try to drop by when I might see him, but he doesn’t seem to have, you know, a regular schedule. Probably because of school. Preparing for the end and all of that.”

“ What?” Tim asked.

Fact number 6: Jason apparently had a thing for Timothy Drake.

“Do you want a burger or not?” Jason asked, headed back to the car.

Tim wondered if he could pass the flush off as cold, or if Jason would see right through him. He also recounted all the times he’d seen Jason, all the unnecessary refills, the way Jason’s gaze had seemed cutting, when it was entirely something else.

“A milkshake,” Tim said slowly, turning, feeling on fire - spontaneous.  As he tugged open his car door, his eyes danced up to Jason, whose gaze sauntered back.

“A milkshake,” he agreed.

Tim felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and pulled it out, not entirely surprised to see a text from Conner letting him know that he and Cassie were leaving and that he hoped Tim was okay - and also, who was that guy?

Tim wasn’t too sure how to reply, but he thought about what Jason had said - about things ending, and happened to look over to Jason, who was fiddling with radio stations, trying to find his way back to something recognizable.

Change wasn’t bad.

 Actually, it kind of felt like a new beginning.

[dust2dust34]

Pieces of Always: October 2033, Part II (FICoN ‘verse)

Life continues after Forever is Composed of Nows.

by @so-caffeinated (and @dust2dust34)

Summary: Jules' choices effect everyone around her more than she realizes.

An ongoing non-linear collection of family moments for the Queens. (You do not need to have read FiCoN to enjoy this, but it will spoil the end. Please see the first installment for additional author notes. Thank you @jsevick and @alizziebyanyothername!)

A/N: Please see the first chapter for an important Author’s Note.

A/N: The effervescent @so-caffeinated is fully in the driver’s seat and she’s kicking all the ass, so please go send her your love!

(read on AO3)

October 2033

Time crawls by at a snail’s pace. Oliver’s lived a lot of long days in his life, but it’s been awhile since one has seemed as drawn out and pained as this one.

“Let her come to you,” Felicity had told him, her hands resting against either side of his overly tense neck. “Both of you need to take a breath and calm down.”

“How the hell do I calm down, Felicity?! How am I supposed to not be absolutely furious about this?” He hadn’t even realized how tense he was until her fingers dug into the back of his neck, kneading the tight muscle that barely gave at all beneath her touch.

“I’m not telling you that you can’t be mad, Oliver,” she’d clarified. “Hell, I’m mad. And I’m hurt and scared and so, so frustrated. But yelling at her isn’t going to help anything. And you know that. You know Jules. A screaming match would make her defensive and push her away and I’m terrified of losing my baby right now as it is. So you need to cool down and give her some space until she’s ready to come to you. You got me?”

He’d nodded, only a slight tilt of his head in acknowledgement. She might not have even picked up on it had her hands not been physically touching his neck. But they were and she had. And she’d murmured, “Thank you” before pressing up on her tiptoes to touch her forehead to his and adding a quiet, “We’ll get through this.”

He’s spent the day trying to believe her, but for all his might, he can’t figure out how.

After so much struggling with Jules, after so many years of consciously and consistently trying to prove how much they love her, how much they like her, to have had all that progress ripped away in the course of a few hours last year… it’s absolutely gutting. It’s too much to bear, makes something hollow out in the pit of Oliver’s stomach.

He would do anything at all to save his baby girl. But he hasn’t got a clue how to save her from herself.

In the hours after that conversation with Felicity, she’d gone up to talk to Jules alone, considerably more composed than he could even imagine himself being, and he’d gone down to the basement to beat the crap out of a punching bag.

It hadn’t helped. His frustration had proven too bone deep to be exorcised by hitting leather ‘til his knuckles bled, but it had provided a distraction, a way to pass the time and exhaust his body further. Not that his body really needed help with that. It’s not like he’d slept at all last night. Between the terror of realizing they had no idea where Jules was and the anger when she finally turned up and the absolute grief of Felicity’s sobs after Jules sloppily spewed accusations at them, at Ellie when she wandered downstairs… sleep hadn’t been an option. Being awake had been a nightmare enough.

Exhaustion had saturated his muscles, muddied his mind, as he pounded the punching bag into submission, but Oliver’s as stubborn as his daughters and he’d been in no place to slow down and take a rest.

The lone bright spot of his day had come when Felicity had found him after her talk with Jules. There’d been a whole lot more hope on her face than there was scarcely a few hours before and she’d hugged him and cried into his neck that Jules had invited her to come with to therapy and had said she loved her. The intensity with which Felicity had needed that was clearly overwhelming. She loves her children fiercely - all of them - and that Jules doesn’t know that, doesn’t feel it, is something that hurts her more than Oliver can stand.

Something about Felicity’s tears in the security of his arms had shifted Oliver’s anger to a softer, more broken tone. He’s upset still, but there are layers to it, now. There is also pain and hope and fear and an overwhelming sense of helplessness. He just… he wants to fix this, to heal his family, and it feels wounded beyond repair at the moment.

Now, as Felicity quiets in his arms, her body sagging against him, he holds her closer and presses soft kisses to her hair. “You should get some sleep,” he tells her, his voice achingly soft. She’s not being gentle with herself right now, so he needs to be. His hand soothes up and down her spine and she shudders out an exhausted sigh against his chest. “Take a nap, honey.”

It’s not like she slept last night either.

“Yeah,” she agrees, nodding against him. Her word breaks with a yawn. “Yeah… Jules is in her room. She knows she’s grounded and she didn’t put up a fight about it at all. Nate’s reading up in the family room and Ellie was chatting on the phone in her room, last time I looked.”

“I’ve got them,” Oliver promises. “You don’t need to worry. Not right now, anyhow. Go sleep.”

Honestly, in spite of her agreement, he’d sort of expected her to put up a fight. But she’s been running on worry for about twenty-four hours now and with the kids safely ensconced in the house, that adrenaline is fading away, leaving her completely sapped.

“I’m glad you and Jules had a good talk,” he says as she steps back and squeezes his hand lightly.

“Me too,” she agrees. “But I think it drained me even more. I just… I just want…”

“I know,” he agrees when she can’t finish the sentence. The precise words don’t matter, he knows the sentiment behind them and he feels it wholeheartedly, too. Most days, he’s not sure he can find the words either.

“Don’t stay down here, okay?” she requests. “The kids need to see us today.”

She’s right. He knows she’s right and he tells her as much. He kisses her once more before she makes her way upstairs to take a nap and he hops in the shower to quickly rinse away the sweat and blood and frustration the day has wrought. He doesn’t bother wrapping his split knuckles, but he does smear a bit of neosporin across them before slipping into a fresh pair of jeans and a plain t-shirt and heading back upstairs from the basement gym.

He’s barefoot, his steps unintentionally near silent, and when he hits the first floor and steps into the kitchen, it’s clear Nate hadn’t heard him coming because he jumps about a foot from his place perched atop a barstool with his hand stuck in a giant jar of jellybeans.

“Dad… hey,” the eleven-year-old greets, looking for all the world like a deer in the headlights from behind the wire-rim of his glasses.

“Hey, bud,” Oliver answers, fighting back a smile as he raises an eyebrow at the candy. “Isn’t it a bit close to dinnertime for sweets?”

“It’s just some jellybeans,” Nate argues with a huff.

“Put ‘em away,” Oliver says seriously. “You’ll ruin your appetite.”

This is mundane - as close to rule-breaking as Nate ever gets - and there’s something so routine about Nate sneaking junk food, that Oliver forgets for a split-second that today is different, that Nate had to have been affected by the stress of last night, too. So, it comes as an unwelcome surprise when Nate actually snaps at him.

“Yeah,” Nate says sharply. “I’m just a horrible kid having candy. I might as well be breaking the law and driving drunk like a total idiot who’s gonna get themselves killed, right?”

Part of Oliver recoils a little at that. Instinct has him wanting chastise Nate for talking back, but he holds his tongue when he sees Nate’s lower lip quiver a little and his eyes turn suspiciously glassy.

“Come here,” Oliver tells him as he walks over to the barstool and wraps his arms around his little boy. And he is a little boy still. For all he’s grown lately, for as adult as he likes to make himself seem, he’s caught somewhere between childhood and teenagerdom. He’s still learning about the world around him, still adjusting to so many of the harsher realities of life, and he clearly can’t process how his sister could be so cavalier about her own life. In all the fuss over Jules herself, Nate had been somewhat overlooked.

“She’s okay, Nate,” Oliver tells the overgrown little boy as he sniffles against his father’s shirt. “She wasn’t hurt and we’re getting her help.”

“I hate her,” Nate mumbles on a sob. He doesn’t mean it, not really, but the words still feel like a serrated blade to the gut for Oliver. “She’s selfish and she hurts everybody because she only cares about herself and I hate it. I hate it so much.”

And that, at any rate, is something Oliver knows he believes, something he feels fully in this moment. Nate loves his family so gently, is so childlike in his affection at times, that he’s prone to boiling everything down to the simplest explanation for his emotions. But, in truth, Oliver’s aware that Nate only feels this so strongly because he does love his sister. And all of this - all of it - boils down to fear and confusion.

“It’s okay to hate what she did,” Oliver tells him. “I do, too. I think she even might. But you don’t hate her, Nate.”

“How can she do this to us?” Nate demands, pulling back and looking up at his dad. He’s still got a jellybean pinched between his fingers. “Doesn’t she even care about us at all? Does she not even know how scared we all were? She made Mom cry. Does she just think she’s too good for all of us? Or… or want to get away from us? Or… wish she had a different family?”

“Oh, god, Nate… no,” Oliver sighs, taking the boy’s hands in his own and sitting on the barstool next to him. “It’s the opposite of that.”

“I don’t understand!” Nate says. It’s a loud, childish protest that makes him seem so much younger than he is for a moment. “‘Cause I’m sitting here feeling bad for getting busted eating jelly beans and disappointing you when she goes out and does the stupidest, most dangerous things I can think of and then she acts like it’s our fault.”

Oliver’s quiet for a long moment, watching his boy. “You heard when she got home last night?” he asks, as pieces click together.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Nate admits, letting go of one of his dad’s hands to wipe at his own nose. “I know you tried to hide it all from me, but I’m not stupid, you know.”

“Never once have I thought you were,” Oliver tells him.

“I heard the cop,” Nate continues, as if his dad hadn’t spoken at all. “I know what she did. She could’ve died and all she did was yell and blame all of us… I think she hates us.”

Oliver blows out a thin, steadying breath. Nate isn’t saying anything he hasn’t thought himself, in his darker moments with Jules. Emotionally, it does feel like she hates them sometimes, like she blames them for her own existence. Rationally, he knows better, he’s fully aware that pushing people away is her defense mechanism, that sass and snark and distance are weapons of self-defense inherited from both her aunt and her mother. She’s honed them into mighty weapons over the years and, at times, they feel unbeatable. But Oliver’s faced down far deadlier foes in his day and he’s not about to concede this battle.

“I know you don’t understand,” Oliver tells his son, meeting his gaze with a sympathetic look. “It’s complicated... more complicated than any of us realized for a really long time. Your sister doesn’t act this way because she doesn’t love us. She does. She’s just terrified, deep down on the inside, that we don’t really love her.”

“But we tell her all the time!” Nate protests. To him, that seems like enough. It’s so simple to a kid his age, one who’s never had Jules’ insecurities, and to some extent, Oliver’s glad his son can’t understand.

“Words help,” Oliver agrees. “Actions help more. Just saying we love her isn’t going to convince her of anything. We’ve got to show her. Again. And again. And again. Right up until she feels it. Right up until she knows it’s true…. So no more saying you hate her, Nate. You and I both know that’s not true and it’s the last thing she needs to hear.”

Nate bows his head sheepishly at that and stares at the jellybean in his hand as he rolls it back and forth between his fingers like a worry stone.

When he speaks again, it’s in the smallest voice Oliver can remember hearing. “I just don’t want my sister to die.”

“Oh, god, Nate,” Oliver breathes out. The words spoken aloud by his son hit him like a suckerpunch and a solid wave of nausea roils through him at the very idea.

But Nate’s not done and it seems like all of a sudden the floodgates are open.

“Drunk drivers kill people and they die,” Nate says intensely, like it’s absolute, like he can’t understand how Jules is even alive today. He probably can’t. “And the cop said she took drugs, too, Dad! Drugs are bad and wrong and they hurt you and make you do bad things and they can kill you, too, and I don’t wanna lose my sister. She’s my sister!”

Oliver feels entirely out of his depth in this moment. Part of him wishes Felicity were here right now, instead of asleep upstairs. She’s always connected easier with Nate than he has. But, on the other hand, part of him is glad that he and Nate get this moment. Hard as it is, Oliver understands all too well what it feels like to be terrified of losing his sister, and he’s grateful that Nate’s opened up to him about this.

“She made terrible choices last night,” Oliver agrees. “But she knows that. She could have died, it’s true. And she knows that, too. But Nate, you can’t worry about what could have happened. You’ve gotta deal with what is. And right now, what we’ve got is your sister home and safe. We’re getting her help and she’s promised to listen and work with us. That’s a big step for her.”

“What do I need to do?” Nate asks. “Tell me what to do.” The poor kid sounds desperate. He’s grappling for a way to help his sister and Oliver knows the boy needs direction, somewhere productive to focus his energy. He’s just eleven, barely in middle school, and he has so little control over what’s going on in his family right now.

“What you need to do,” Oliver tells him, “is bring your sister jellybeans.”

“...Excuse me?” Nate asks, confusion etching itself across his face. Oliver has to break a smile at that. Nate is the sweetest, cutest little kid and he loves this boy intensely even if it sometimes feels like they don’t quite understand each other. Today… today they do.

“Take the jellybeans upstairs. Knock on your sister’s door. Tell her you brought some to share and tell her you were worried about her. But don’t bring up specifics about yesterday,” Oliver advises. “Don’t blame her for anything and don’t argue with her. Definitely don’t tell her you hate her - it’s not true anyhow. Just remind her you love her. Hug her, if she’ll let you, and listen if she wants to talk, even if it’s just about what jellybean flavors she likes the least.”

Nate’s very quiet for a moment before he says “Popcorn.”

“What?” Oliver asks, blinking back.

“She hates the popcorn flavored ones. She spits them out,” Nate informs him with a tiny shrug. “They’re not my favorite either. We both like the sweet ones.”

Of course he does. Nate’s sweet tooth is absurd.

“Maybe remind her you know that about her, then,” Oliver tells him. “She probably needs to see that people pay more attention to her than she realizes.”

“Okay,” Nate agrees, hopping off the barstool and taking the jar of jellybeans in hand. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Sure thing, kiddo,” Oliver replies. “Just… don’t eat all of those, okay? You really don’t want to spoil your dinner.”

“Don’t worry,” Nate answers, a small grin curving at his lips. “I’ve got loads of room.”

It’s probably true. Between him and his new buddies Matt and Carlos, who seem to materialize out of thin air anytime there are snacks around, Oliver’s debated getting a second fridge for the garage. It’s been awhile since the years when Will devoured everything in sight and neither of the girls have ever had the growth spurts his boys seem prone to. Oliver had forgotten what it was like, but is fast realizing that leftovers are not going to be something that last very long for the next few years of Nate’s life.

Nate wanders upstairs, munching jellybeans as he goes, taking the steps two at a time. It’s only after he’s out of sight that Oliver lets out a sigh of exhaustion. He really hadn’t counted on an emotional run-in with his little boy today, but maybe he should have. There are so many ways Jules’ actions last night have affected their family - so many ways the kidnapping last year continues to hurt them all - and it feels like they’re still discovering new wounds that aren’t done healing on a regular basis.

Needing to be available to the kids, but with all of them occupied and Felicity hopefully asleep, Oliver feels a bit restless. There’s plenty he could be doing for work, of course, even though Senate’s not in session right now, but he’s pretty sure anything of that nature would be distracted and fruitless today.

But he needs to do something.

He heads out back, leaving the door open as he goes, and looks for a project. The first thing that catches his eye is the grill and he spends a few minutes scrubbing it clean before it’s pretty clear that’s done. Then he moves on to picking up yard debris. October or not, it isn’t like their yard is huge and there’s not that much work to be done. He rakes, breaks a few larger branches to toss into the bin, even takes a moment to sweep the deck. But it’s done quickly and he finds himself in the same state as before, antsy to keep his focus honed on something but lacking direction.

The old fairy castle he and Digg built together back when Jules wasn’t even crawling yet looms overhead. It’s eighteen years old and it shows. There’s some paint missing along the roofline and a few boards near the ladder look like they could use to be nailed down a little better, a few need to be replaced. He’d be surprised if the roof wasn’t leaking some. It’s been years since the kids have used it. But, if he closes his eyes, he can still hear Jules’ laughter as she pelted her little sister with water balloons and Ellie’s shriek of delight as Will swooped her up in his arms before they both aimed the hose up at Jules. He can remember Nate wanting storytime up there and Ellie making him do a double-take when she - once again - declared herself president of the fairy kingdom and dubbed her father Captain of the Fairy Knights.

Days like those are done, now. Will’s an adult living his own life. Jules is in college. Ellie’s interests have gone from fairy kingdoms to volleyball and vigilantism. And even his little Nate’s a middle schooler, letting go of childish things far faster than Oliver’s ready for him to.

But the fairy castle still stands. And, even if it no longer matters much to any of the kids, it suddenly means a whole lot to Oliver that it’s still there, still in good shape, a standing monument to the childhoods he’s treasured so much but are fast fading away.

Fixing a few nails turns into replacing some boards and reattaching some shingles. He’s lost track of time entirely when someone hands him a piece of sandpaper, jarring him back into the moment.

“Been a while, but this is familiar,” Digg says.

Oliver pauses a moment, before taking the sandpaper from Digg. “Yup,” he agrees, focusing on smoothing over the rougher edges of the wood he’s just replaced on the old playhouse. “Been a long while.”

“You want some help?” Digg asks. Oliver doesn’t have to look to know his old friend is standing there, looking up with crossed arms and a broad stance, already well aware of the answer. They’ve known each other for more than twenty years, have seen each other through the best and worst parts of their lives, and had each other’s backs in countless life-threatening situations.

Compared to all that, this should be simple. But it’s not. Because when Oliver slows down, when his hand stills against the splintered wood, all of the sorrow and frustration and anger rushes back over him. And he can’t even breathe for how badly he feels like he’s failed his daughter.

“I got it,” he tells Digg without looking back. Digg gives a grunt that’s meant to sound like a concession, but also definitely means he’s being insightful. “I need to do this,” Oliver adds a moment later. It’s an admission that leads Digg to a far more satisfied hum of agreement.

“For Jules,” Digg tacks on.

It seems so obvious when he says it aloud.

“Yeah,” Oliver agrees, nodding once sharply, his gaze still fixed on the roughened edge of wood he’s smoothing over. “Yeah, for Jules.”

“She know this is for her?” Digg asks. Oliver finally looks back at his old friend. Halfway up the ladder, he towers over Digg for the moment, but something about the other man still seems larger than life.

“I’m not sure she’s ever believed anything I’ve done was for her,” Oliver confesses. His whole body slackens at the words and he takes the few steps down to solid ground, leaving the fairy castle unfinished. That’s okay. It can’t be fully repaired in a day. It’s a much bigger project than that.

“You’ve done a better job with her than you think, Oliver,” Digg tells him.

“Doesn’t feel like it,” Oliver returns, casting a glance toward the house. Felicity’s in the kitchen and she gives him a little wave. He smiles back, but he wonders how much time he’s spent out here. It’s getting dark.

“They ordered pizza,” Digg tells him, anticipating his next question. “Nate figured I was the delivery guy when he answered the door. I’m gonna try not to be insulted by how disappointed he was.”

Oliver snorts at that. “Bring him food next time and you’ll be his favorite.”

But Digg isn’t about to take the bait and switch the conversation to something lighter. “I saw Jules for a second,” he says instead and Oliver finds himself holding his breath for whatever Digg is gonna say next. “The pizza got there right after me and she came down to grab a slice before heading back up to her room... She’s okay, man. She’s gonna be okay. You know that, right?”

“No,” Oliver answers, picking at a splinter in his palm. It’s rooted deeply and he can’t get a hold of it. It’s just time, then, that’ll force it out, that’ll let his hand heal up. But that doesn’t mean it’ll be comfortable as it does. “It took years in hell for me to clean up my act, to decide I had to be someone other than the self-entitled screw up I used to be. I don’t want that for her, John.”

“Jules isn’t you,” Digg says. “Not even close. Yeah, she’s going through a rough time right now and you’re in uncharted waters with her. It’s not like there are parenting books on how to help your kid cope with knowing they don’t exist in another universe. But she’s got something you never had, Oliver, something that makes one hell of a difference.”

“Yeah?” Oliver asks. “What’s that.”

“You, man,” Digg tells him, looking at him like he’s nuts for not having figured this out immediately. “Jules has you and Felicity to help her through all of this. And if there’s one thing I know about the two of you, it’s that you’re both the kind of people who refuse to give up when things get hard. What’d your parents do the first time you got busted drunk driving.”

“They, uh… they covered it up,” Oliver admits. His mind drifts to thirty years back and the dingy cell he and Tommy hadn’t spent more than twenty minutes in before they were given an apology and a ride home. “I think they paid the department off.”

“You get in trouble for it?” Digg questions.

“If I did, it didn’t make an impression,” Oliver replies. “I remember my dad being a little upset. I was glad, at the time. It proved I was important enough to him to pull him out of a meeting.”

Digg hums, a quiet noise that somehow indicates a total lack of surprise. “And what’d you do about Jules so far.”

“There was some yelling and some crying last night,” Oliver allows, starting to pack up his tools as he talks. It’s really gotten to late to work. He’ll get back to it tomorrow. “I left her a note that she’s grounded til she’s forty, but I’ll probably shave a few years off for good behavior. And she’s lost her car. I donated it to Mothers Against Drunk Drivers this morning. They were more than happy to come pick it up.”

“Somehow, I think that’s gonna make an impression,” Digg tells him. “Oliver, man, I didn’t know you before the island, but by all accounts you were sort of an asshole.”

“Thanks,” Oliver says dryly. He can’t really counter it, though.

“No problem.” Digg smiles. It’s a toothy grin. “My point is that Jules isn’t. She’s young and she’s hurt and scared. She doesn’t know how to deal with what happened to her, but she’s not a bad kid.  She doesn’t need five years in hell to change who she is, Oliver. The kidnapping is her island. You’re the one helping her find her way back right now, even when she doesn’t see it.”

That idea gives Oliver pause, makes him stop and look at Digg like he’s waiting for more.

“Being a parent isn’t easy,” Digg adds. “Believe me, I know. But you’re a good dad and Jules is a good kid. She screwed up, yeah, but she’s got you on her side. And that’s gonna make all the difference.”

Digg’s approval means a lot. It always has, and Oliver finds he’s intensely grateful that his friend chose to show up today.

“You come by just for the pep talk?” Oliver asks. If he did, it worked. Digg’s presence always seems to have a calming effect. He helps make sense of chaos. Oliver could not be more grateful for that if he tried.

“Mostly,” Digg admits. “That and I wanted to distract myself. Sara’s flying solo with her mask this evening, remember? She told me if I didn’t get out of the lair she was gonna cut comms, because she’s stubborn and difficult and-”

“And yours?” Oliver asks with a dry laugh. He actually had forgotten about Sara’s first solo venture tonight. The last day has been such a whirlwind...

“I’m crediting this one to hanging around your girls,” Digg informs him. “Because if we’re talking stubborn…”

He’s got a point. His girls and Sara Diggle are all strong young women. As a dad, that makes him equal parts proud and terrified. Sometimes they push too hard, go too far. They’re far less ready for the world than they seem to think they are. And, as well trained as he knows Sara Diggle is, he also knows exactly how terrified Digg must be right now, knowing his girl is out there on the streets without him.

“Everything’s been quiet lately,” Oliver reminds him. “And she shoots like she was born with a bow in her hand. She’s ready, Digg. I know that sounds crazy. I know it feels like just last week you were dropping her off at kindergarten-”

“Damned right it does,” Digg agrees. “Blink your eyes and you’re gonna be right there with me.”

Ellie. He means Ellie. And he’s not wrong. She’s fifteen going on twenty-five, these days. She’s pushing so hard - too hard - and it’s too much for him to bear. He can still see her chained to that floor in a pool of her own blood when he closes his eyes. He can still remember the sharp sense of terror that had nearly gutted him as he and Felicity both rushed to save their little girl’s life. Seeing her so hurt, so helpless, he’s not sure he can stand the idea of her ever willingly putting herself in danger after that.

Fate be damned. Forget talk of legacy and the other Ellie. This is his little girl and all he wants is for her to have a fulfilled, happy life that doesn’t leave him with a sense of terror about her safety. That’s all he wants for all of his children.

He’s pretty sure that’s not gonna happen.

It’s a notion entirely reinforced when a noise from the house draws both his and Digg’s attention.

Two stories up, a window slides shut. It’s dark out now, but not so dark that he can’t make out the sight of his daughter carefully climbing down the brick exterior of the brownstone, blonde hair pulled back into a tight ponytail and a sword sticking out of the rucksack on her back.

...a sword. It’s not even close to her best weapon, but it also leaves no doubt whatsoever what she thinks she’s doing.

He and Digg watch in silence for a moment, both of their heads tilted slightly as they appraise Ellie’s descent down the face of the building.

“Hi,” Oliver shouts loudly after a moment, once he’s sure she’s low enough that if he startles her and she falls, she won’t hurt herself too badly.

But she doesn’t fall. She’s Ellie and she’s got reflexes long-honed by Sunday night training sessions and refined by her own training she’s taken on this past year.

“Dad!” she squeaks. She’s frozen somewhere between the first and second floor, staring at him like she’s trying to figure out a way to not be busted.

Too bad for her there isn’t one.

“I didn’t see you there,” she says, swallowing hard.

“We figured,” Digg replies. The amusement in his voice is just unfair.

“That you didn’t see us is proof enough that you’re not ready for what you thought you were going to do,” Oliver tells her sharply.

Ellie drops at that, fast and purposeful. She lands in a crouch with cat-like grace, quiet and steady, before standing tall and looking her father defiantly in the face.

So, she’s not letting this go, then.

Fantastic.

“I have to be ready,” Ellie tells him defiantly. “Cynisca needs me.”

“Cynisca has her mom watching over her on the comms,” Digg informs her, staring her down like a target.

“Cynisca?” Oliver questions, blinking at Digg in confusion. Last he’d heard, Sara hadn’t settled on a code name.

“Spartan princess,” Digg replies. It would be impossible to miss the pride in his voice.

“And the first woman ever to win an Olympic medal,” Ellie adds. “And all-around badass tomboy. But that’s not the point. I’m Sara’s best friend and I need to have her back. You have to let me go.”

“The hell I do,” Oliver scoffs immediately, the novelty of Sara’s self-proclaimed name falling away quickly. “You are fifteen years old, Ellie.”

“I’m ready!” Ellie argues. And, oh, she really thinks that, doesn’t she? She’s pink-cheeked with frustration, something he can see even from the dim porch lights, and her fists are tight, tensed with white knuckles. “You can’t make me stay behind, not when Sara’s out there right now facing the worst this city has to offer!”

“I can and I will,” Oliver snaps, holding up a finger in warning. He’s not used to Ellie acting out, not like this. This is something Jules would do or maybe even Nate. But not Ellie. “After everything that happened last night, you want to just sneak out of your room at night and go fight crime? You’re not that irresponsible, Elizabeth.”

“Right,” she huffs. “Because I’m the good one, right? I’m not allowed to step out of line. That’s reserved for Jules. She gets to break rules and put people’s lives in danger and come home to a hug while everyone walks on eggshells about how poor Julie-bug will feel. I try to go look out for my friend and help this city and I’m the one that gets called irresponsible? Yeah. That’s fair.”

“Ellie, your sister is dealing with-”

“I don’t care!” Ellie shouts with all of the frustration she clearly feels. “I don’t care what Jules is dealing with. What about what I’m dealing with? Did you even think about that? Does that even matter or is it just poor broken Jules? I’m not gonna be a victim, Dad. Not ever again and I’m not going to let anyone else be either. This is who I am. This is my destiny and you can’t keep me from it.”

“The hell I can’t,” Oliver growls lowly, taking a few steps until he’s right in front of his defiant little girl. “You think we won’t care about what you went through, Ellie? You really think we don’t care how you’re coping? Really?”

She has the grace to look a little embarrassed at that.

“Your mother and I have done everything we can think of to help you through this,” Oliver reminds her. “Everything. And you know that. But, Elizabeth, this is the most selfish and thoughtless thing you’ve ever done. After the absolute terror you know your mom and I went through last night, you were just going to sneak out of the house at night to go start a fight? You’re smarter and more thoughtful than that and I’m absolutely disappointed in your choices right now. Go to your room. You’re grounded.”

She’s an absolute ball of teenage angst and emotions when she replies, red-faced with a sniffly nose and wet eyes. “You’re ruining my life!” she shouts, absolutely shaking with anger and frustration and shame.

“Ellie… Elle,” Oliver calls as she brushes past him. But he doesn’t get a response.

Unfortunately, Ellie’s going in the door, right as Jules hovers in the threshold, looking like she’s considering coming out.

“Get out of my way. You’re always in the way!” Ellie snaps at her sister. Oliver holds his breath waiting for a response from his older daughter, but she’s too stunned and Ellie’s gone too fast for a response.

And Jules… Jules looks hesitant, nervous. She’s fidgeting, oddly vulnerable right now, and Oliver finds he absolutely has to hone in on her. Ellie can wait. She needs to cool down anyhow - and he needs to add motion sensor lights to the building, obviously - but Jules sought him out. That’s a rarity.

“Teenagers are fun, huh?” Digg asks, clapping him on the shoulder and pulling his attention for an instant. Oliver says nothing in reply but the raised eyebrows he returns speak volumes. Teenagers are… well, they’re unlike any challenge he’s faced before, anyhow. That much is certainly true.

“I, uh… Dad, do you have a minute to talk?” Jules asks. Like he would say no? “I mean, if you and Uncle Digg are busy, I could-”

“No,” Oliver cuts her off. “No, honey, it’s fine. We’re just chatting. Of course I have time for you.”

“I’m gonna head in and talk to Felicity for a bit anyhow,” Digg tells them before adding. “Glad you’re okay, Jules. You scared a lot of people last night.” It’s a stark reminder that when something’s wrong, the entire team responds, not just her parents and Jules nods at her toes before looking back up, locking eyes with her father.

“I messed up. And I’m sorry,” she says. There’s no doubting the bald-faced earnestness of her voice or the serious look in her eyes.

Good.

Oliver’s relieved to see it. “Talk later, Digg. I’ll want to hear all about Sara’s night.”

“You got it,” he agrees readily, squeezing Jules’ shoulder as he passes her and heads into the house.

There’s a long moment of absolute silence. Through the window, he can see Felicity blinking in surprise at the stairwell Ellie disappeared into. While he can’t hear the words, Digg’s clearly filling her in. Oliver knows that for certain when his wife’s shoulders droop and she rubs her forehead with newfound strain. She meets his eyes and there’s a whole world of unspoken conversation that lives in their shared gaze.

“Take Jules. I’ve got Ellie,” her face says. He doesn’t even question it. He just knows. And he nods in reply as she gives him a sad smile and starts toward the stairs. Digg stays behind, taking a seat next to Nate who is positively inhaling pizza while staring somberly down at his plate.

It would be wonderful if just one of their kids wouldn’t be in the midst of a dramatic, emotional crisis today. Oliver’s not sure he can handle more. He’s put off cluing Will into what happened last night because he’s not sure he can stand to see his older son’s reaction. Not today. There’s enough going on and Oliver doesn’t need to add to it. So, he does the only thing he can - he takes it one step at a time, puts one foot in front of the other and deals with crises as they come at him.

And right now… right now is about Jules.

She’s looking past him, confusion splashed across her beautiful face as she takes in what he’s spent his afternoon doing. He just watches her for a moment, hands stuffed in his pockets while she tries to make sense of his work.

Sometimes Jules says more through her silence than with words. He’s learned to listen to what she doesn’t voice. And, because of that, he knows she hasn’t reached any kind of understanding about his work on the playhouse when she finally does speak.

“You were cleaning up the fairy castle?” she asks, brow furrowed as she looks at him. “Why?”

“When I started, I wasn’t sure either,” he tells her walking over to his tools to finish packing them away. “I needed to do something with my hands, I guess, something to keep myself busy.”

“And when you finished?” she asks. He can practically see her holding her breath.

“I’m not finished, honey,” he says, crouching down and looking up at her as he puts a hammer and nails back in his toolbox. “It’s about maintenance. I let it go too long. You can’t just fix something once and expect it to stay that way forever.”

Jules is a sharp girl - so very much her mother’s daughter - and Oliver’s not surprised in the least when she sighs and folds her arms, giving him a sassy look that’s all her own.

“Some of my best memories of us are back when I was building this thing,” Oliver tells her, standing up and brushing his hands off on his jeans. “You’d nap in a playpen right over there while I worked. I remember talking to you, asking your advice. You’d just giggle and try to eat the grass. One time I showed you color samples and you spit up all over one. I took that as a clear vote against the pink.”

It’s really, really quiet for a moment as Jules looks at the playhouse, trying to see what he does. “I don’t remember that,” Jules tells him. “I was too little.”

“Yeah,” Oliver agrees. “I know. But I do. And whether you remember it or not, it’s a part of our roots, you and me. Building this for you meant a lot to me. It still does.”

“Building it for me and Ellie, you mean?” Jules ventures. Oliver hates the caution in her voice. He absolutely hates it.

“No, Jules,” he counters. Part of him wants to shake her by her shoulders until she understands. “For you. We knew we wanted Ellie one day. And we hoped we’d have her and that she’d one day use and love this treehouse, too. But I didn’t build it for her. I built it for you.”

He must sound convincing, because she seems uncomfortable. It’s never easy for Jules to accept what she wants to hear. He’s not surprised at all when she steps up, touches the still-rough wood on a board he replaced, but changes the topic entirely.

“I guess I really screwed up last night, huh?” she asks. She’s not looking at him.

“Yes you did,” he agrees right away. He’ll be gentle with her, let her take the lead, but not about this. There can’t be any room for doubt this time.

“I probably deserved everything you yelled at me last night,” she adds quietly. “Even if I don’t remember a lot of it.”

Oliver sighs. “Whether you remember it or not, it’s part of our roots, too,” he says again.

“Yeah…” she agrees in a tiny voice before casting her eyes back toward him. “I am sorry. I just… I was just…”

She’s struggling to explain, but she can’t. That makes Oliver’s heart drop. Not because she can’t find the words, but because she doesn’t seem to quite know how to make sense of it for herself.

“I could demand an explanation,” he says. “Or I could threaten you or tell you stories about people I’ve seen who ODed or crashed after drinking and driving. But you’re already facing consequences for what you did and secondhand stories of thirty-year-old mistakes by someone you never know aren’t going to make an impact. And, I can’t really insist you give me an explanation when I don’t think you have one for yourself… Do you?”

She’s blinking hard, and he knows she’s fighting back tears. For all the walls she puts up, Jules feels everything so intensely.

“No,” she agrees, sounding small and scared. “I don’t. Right then, I just didn’t care. I just… I didn’t want to hurt and I didn’t like how I felt. I was angry and sad and Katie said it would be fun.”

Anger and frustration roils around in his heart, but Oliver pushes it back down. Jules might have terrible taste in friends, but Katie’s no older than Jules, barely an adult and he suspects she has her own internalized problems she can’t quite process. What those are, he’s not sure, but it’s his own daughter he’s concerned with, not her friend.

“I’ve never once told you not to be friends with someone, Jules,” he points out. “Not once. But I don’t like Katie. And, maybe I’m wrong, but I don’t think you like who you are when you’re around her, do you?”

Jules looks so young in this moment, her arms wrapped around herself as she stares at her toes. God, she’s such a little girl still, such a child, at least to him. He wants to hold her close, protect her, shelter her from the world. But he can’t protect her from herself.

“No,” she admits, though from the sound of her voice it plainly hurts her to say it. “I don’t. It wasn’t as fun as she said and today really, really sucks and I feel like the worst person in the world.”

“You’re not,” Oliver promises her. “Honey, you’re not.” She doesn’t shrug him away when he touches her shoulder, so he takes a risk and tugs a little, pulling her close. She lets him, tucks her head against his shoulder and sniffles into his shirt. She doesn’t hug him back, but she doesn’t shy away either. It’s more than he’d honestly dared to hope for.  “You’re learning. You messed up and, thank God, you got lucky. That you feel bad about what happened, that it scared you… that’s proof enough that you’re not a bad person. You’re hurt and you’re trying to fix that all on your own, but you don’t know how. And Jules, honey… you aren’t meant to. It doesn’t matter how old you are or where you are in life, your mom and I are gonna be here for you helping you in any way we can. You just have to let us.”

She shudders a little in his arms, curling in more. Her arms don’t wrap around him, but he can feel her fingers curling into his shirt, holding on for all she’s worth without opening herself up.

“You don’t hate me?” she asks a moment later, in the quietest voice he can imagine.

“I could never hate you, Julie-bug,” he tells her immediately. That he still has to tell her this guts him. “Not for anything. Neither could your mother. So, it might be a good idea if you stopped trying to make us.”

She pulls back at that, wide-eyed and wary with confusion as she looks up to him. The sight of it absolutely breaks his heart, because she still doesn’t understand why she’s doing what she’s doing.

But he does.

“It would be simpler for you if we did,” he adds, tucking a lock of dark hair behind her ear. “Proof that every bad thing that man said about you was true would be a whole lot easier than living with fear and blind hope that he wasn’t. But that’s never gonna happen, Jules. I don’t know how to prove to you that there’s nothing you can do to make us stop loving you, but I do know your mom and I will never stop trying. Not ever. No matter what you do.”

“Dad…” she says quietly, swallowing and looking down at her feet. It’s a lot for her to process, but he’s not done.

“The next time you think about doing something that could cost you your life, I want you to consider that it’s not just you and me and your mom who would pay for that,” Oliver tells her. “You have so much more of an impact on everyone than you think you do.”

“What are you talking about?” she asks, rolling her watery eyes at him. It’s a defensive gesture, a dismissive one, and so very painfully Jules.

“Nate was confused and terrified of losing you,” Oliver points out. “Ellie’s still boiling mad because she doesn’t know how to cope with any of this. Digg and Lyla and Roy spent the whole night worried about you and helping search for you. Frank was out there looking for you while Grandma Donna tried to put a brave face on for your little brother and sister. Your Aunt Thea asked how she could help. And then there’s Will…”

“What about Will?” Jules asks. Her tone says she’s not sure she wants to know.

“I haven’t told him yet, Jules,” Oliver confides. “I couldn’t figure out how. Especially after we found out what happened.” Jules sucks in a breath at that, brow furrowing as she watches her dad. “His mom died last year in a car accident,” Oliver points out. “You saw how hard that hit him, how hard it still hits him. He was working last night. If things had gone worse, if you’d crashed your car, he could very well have been the first one on scene. You might question how much your mom and I love you, but you’ve never questioned your brother. So, next time you think about drinking or popping pills and getting behind the wheel of a car, I want you to consider what it would do to Will if he were the one to find your body.”

The mention of Will cuts through something with Jules and she absolutely breaks right in front of him. Her whole face crumbles and her hands shake as she stops even trying to cage in the sobs that have been boiling just beneath the surface. Her knees wobble, unsteady under the weight of reality, and Oliver goes to hold her upright. No sooner are his arms around her, lending her support than she lets him bear her weight entirely.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, oh my god. Daddy, I’m sorry,” she chokes out. It’s entirely emotion, raw and uninhibited. “I don’t know how to do this, what to do. I didn’t mean to screw up. Not like this. I don’t want to hurt you. Or Will. I’m so sorry.”

“I’ve got you,” Oliver promises, holding her close as she lets everything out that she’s been caging in for so long. This has been a building for a year and she’s got so much to give voice to, so much to cope with, but this feels like a big first step in the right direction.

Part of him wants to promise her that it’s okay, but in a lot of ways it’s really not, so he doesn’t. He won’t lie to her. Instead he makes soothing noises and vows over and over that he’s got her, that he’ll help her, that he loves her. He is steady, her port in the storm, and he will not let her get pulled down by the undertow.

“What do I do?” she asks, still red-faced with tear tracks staining her face when the sobs finally abate. She looks so very lost, so completely reliant on his answer. He wishes he could just fix all of this for her, snap his fingers and make it all better, or take on her battles himself so that she doesn’t have to. But it doesn’t work like that.

“Make better choices,” he tells her. “Every day. Talk to your therapist. Listen to us, even if you don’t always believe us. Ditch Katie. And help me fix the fairy castle.”

She’s nodding along right up until his last suggestion, which has her pulling a face in surprise and laughing a little, even if it’s a wet sound. “What?” she questions.

“You and me, Jules,” he tells her, smoothing his hands over her shoulders. “We built this side-by-side once. I’d like your help to get it back in shape now.”

“No one’s gonna use it now,” she points out, glancing up at the long-empty treehouse. “We’re all too old for that.”

“I know,” Oliver agrees. “But that’s not the point.”

She pauses, reappraises the fairy castle through new eyes as she bites her lip. He wonders what she’s remembering, how many great days are linked to that carefully carved fort. A lot. He’d bet there are a lot. More than he knows, even.

“No,” she agrees after a minute. “I suppose it’s not.”

“Tomorrow,” he tells her, squeezing one of her shoulders. “Eight a.m. sharp. You and I are gonna start fixing it back up together. Okay?”

“Yeah,” she nods, a small smile inching across her face. “Okay. I think… I think I might kind of like that.”

Him too, he realizes. Building new memories with his little girl as they fix a remnant of their past? Right now, he’s not sure he can think of anything he’d like more.

*

Thank you for reading! Reviews literally feed the soul and muse, so go send some love to @so-caffeinated! 

[cutegirlmayra]

I actually meant that if Sonic and Amy had a family together (you're right, I should've clarified that 😅) But that fanfic was so good. Sorry if I'm being a pain btw

Part 1 (x)

No, I wanted you to clarify and write me back if it was bad XD haha, could you explain what you meant by keeping it a ‘family’ without ‘love’ in it? Cause… Cause… I think families are romantic XD I mean, you know, my mom and dad weren’t always shy with being cute in the kitchen. I would lean back and be like, “Love is in the air~” when they started dancing and kissing lightly or just hugging one another. Like… families are cute, man XD

But I understand there is discord in family too, there’s always opposites to all things. Ehem, so an ‘unromantic’ moment with the family, is that it?

I hope you don’t mind, but I’m totally inserting my headcanon sonamy family, okay? We all good with that? No complaints? alrighty then.

Prompt:

“Speed, don’t forget your shoes.” Amy leaned down to try and help Freedom put on his own, as the oldest, Speed, looked down and lifted a food up, seeing it wasn’t dressed and made a face, looking back to his mom.

“You know, if we don’t wear clothes in the first place, what’s wrong with going barefoot too?”

“Don’t get snarky with me, young man. You can think outside the box once you’re at school.” she gave him the motherly eye of warning and he rolled his eyes up with a smile, waddling back to get his shoes.

“Mom, are you gonna get mad if I take my weapons with me?” Rebel had her medieval book in hand, since she could summon weapons based on if she’s seen them before or not.

“Absolutely not!”

“But I haven’t memorized them all yet!”

“You’re father really should stop reading you so many violent fables.” Amy fanned for Rebel to quickly come to her so she could fix the bow in the back.

“I hate bows… just take it off!” She stomped her foot down, pouting and folding her arms.

“Hey…” Freedom moved his foot from where hers had fallen, afraid she may hit him.

“There, there. You’re sister’s not gonna kill you.” Amy patted his head and then patted Rebel’s butt to get a move on. “Okay, everyone in the car!” She started to hurdle them, getting the baby before remembering she was with Sonic.

“Okay, there fine. There really fine. Hmm…” she whimpered to herself, trying to calm her racing motherly heart as instinct almost took over her to go after him.

“Okay, Freedom?”

“Here, Mommy.” he was fiddling with a racecar in his hands.

“Uncle Tails says you can play at his industry if you promise to get an good grade this next test and show it to him, okay?” she adjusted the mirror in the car, seeing her quills messed up, she brushed them down and tried to look cute, before smiling as if trying to fool herself.

“Really!?” Freedom’s eyes lit up, “Can I help him work, momma?! Can I, can I!?”

“Ugh… as long as it not radioactive, a prototype, or anything sharp and potentially dangerous.” Amy started up the car, sighing.

“Aww.. that’s all the fun ones.. hmph.” he folded his arms, upset, before throwing them down and making the toy racecar go around with sound effects.

“You’ll get over it.”

“Mom, Sandy said she’d come to my band practice today.” Speed pulled his backpack around to his lap, and chilled in the backseat. “That’s cool, right?”

“Sandy… Sandy… Don’t you mean- Veronica?” Amy was pulling out onto the street now, trying to remember out of the hundred girls her eldest son mentioned, which one was Sandy.

“Mom! Veronica is totally dating Kyle! I’m talking about Sandy~ Baby~ Oh why~ did you leave me~ Oh, Sandy~” he started singing and hitting things around him as if trying to make a beat.

“Right.. and she’s special, because-?”

“Mom! For the last time, I’m not a player!”

“You’ve called me about every blonde chick that walks by you in a 5 mile radius, Speed. Now I love you. But remember. I expect one wife out of you, one day. Just one day, hon.” she teased him, as he made a face ‘pfft’d to the side, kicking a leg up over the other.

“You’re so immature.”

“Me?” Amy pointed to herself, and then laughed. “Hey, I had one love. And one love alone. Let’s give mommy some props, here. I way got your father, and there ain’t no other version that can be told of THAT story!” she proudly stated, and a headstrong, bold passion in her voice.

Speed rolled his eyes, “Well…” he leaned his head back, spreading his arms out on the armrest and the back of the seat. “If I find a girl like you, Mom… I’ll take her home.”

“Awww~ Speed~” she was so touched, placing a hand on her heart, almost tearing up and fanning herself.

“Chill, Mom.”

“Oh my gosh, I’m just so happy you said that.” she wiped a tear away, getting into traffic. “Oh boy, I’m so happy you’d bring her home first.”

He suddenly shot out of his seat, “WHAT’S THAT SUPPOSE TO MEAN!?”

“GET BACK IN YOUR SEAT. YOU DIDN’T HAVE A SEATBELT ON!?” Amy suddenly reared the car over to the side, having angry horns blast her way as she forced the car into a park from speeding to avoid accidents.

Once the car screeched to a halt, Rebel looked calm as she stated, “Now you’ve done it.”

Amy flung around from her seat, swinging an angry arm out at him. “YOU PUT YOUR SEATBELT ON YOUNG MAN OR I’LL COME BACK THERE AND-”

“Mom! Cop!” Speed quickly pointed ahead of her.

“Oh no.” Amy looked forward but Speed had time to roll the window down and race out, waving back to her as she gasped.

“See you after practice, Mom!”

“Oh, that little…” she gripped her wheel tighter, before banging her head on it and seeming to give up. “He’s his father’s child… and yet, he’s got my heart all reversed.” she rolled her eyes, looking up, and getting the car going again. “He just needs to meet the ‘one’ and all my problems will be solved.” she joked, pulling the car back out into the street.

-With Sonic-

“Now, this is how you roll.” Sonic formed a fall, and rolled backwards, before unrolling and laying on the ground again.

A little hedgehog baby blinked her eyes, before bending her head down and just keeping it there.

His smile faded as he looked like he wanted to help. “N-no, no, no. Journey, come on. It’s instinct. You’re sister got this her first try. Okay, no pressure. Let me just-” he used his fingers to help her roll over, but she fell straight on her back, and started tearing up.

He freaked out, looking around at the gymnastic instructors and quickly tried to calm her down. “No, no, sweetheart! Stay strong! Not here…” he picked her up over his shoulder, bouncing her but winced as he knew what was coming….

Squinting his eyes, he saw an instructor walk over.

“What on earth is going-?”

A sonic boom erupted from her mouth, as her cries morphed into sound-waves that had everyone shaking in their bones, and the equipment shake so badly they fell apart.

Sonic held a baby carrier over his chest with two sports bags full of baby necessities.

He sighed.

“That’s the twentieth place you’ve kicked us out of.” He looked dead-ahead, before looking to her sucking on her favorite chilidog squeaky toy.

“You’re mother’s gonna kill me.” he shook his head, knowing he had promised Amy he would try and find some sort of sport for her to do.

“Maybe you could sing?” he held his head up a moment, before the image of a rocker using that sonic sound-wave made him shake his head. He laughed and looked back down to Journey, using his nose to rub her head and tickle her.

“Nah, probably not. You’d literally bring the house down.” he started to run off, not at his usual speed though because the docs once told him he could cause brain-injury going that fast with a infant. So instead, he just leisurely strolled, before going passed the old people’s homes and-

“AH-HA!”

Sonic looked ratted out, and slowly turned to the open window.

“Greetings, old man.” he saw Eggman, old and worn out, leaning out of the window, looking happy to see him.

“I’ve caught you, Sonic!” he triumphantly stated.

Sonic shook his head, “With what? A baby?”

“A baby?” he squinted his eyes, “Could of sworn that was a pre-deposed of bomb…”

Sonic shrugged, lifting the two bags of baby stuff with the action, before letting it drop. “Same diff.”

“…. What are you doing with a baby?” Eggman looked confused.

“I’ve told you a thousand times Egghead…” Sonic lowered the bags down, then unstrapped Journey and placed her on his head, pointing to her as she clung on and looked around.

“This is my kid.”

“Oh, the little one? Yeh high?” he motioned with his hand the height. “Purple or magenta or… something?”

“That’s Rebel.” Sonic drooped his eyelids down. It had been a while, but Eggman’s memory loss was starting to get worse and worse. Sonic was glad he was able to find a home for him that would put up with his lousy inventions going haywire.

“Ah, oh, I see… R-Rebel, was it? Who names a kid a Rebel? Sounds like a bad omen.” Eggman shook his head, still leaning out the window.

“Ha…ha…ha… That comment gets better each time I hear it.” Sonic had clearly heard that comment over and over again, as he stretched out his back and watched Journey learn to cling to the his quills when he even made a slight movement.

He opened an eye to look up at her, and chuckled as he put her down and back in her strap.

“Well, I guess you forgot. So I’ll say it again, old chum.” As he strapped her in, he looked lovingly back at his old enemy.

He winked and saluted, “Thanks for the many years! And even for the advice to settle with Amy.”

“Huh? I said that?” Eggman pointed to himself. “Was I deaf?”

“No, but you weren’t blind.” Sonic clicked his tongue, giving the him the double-guns with his hands waving around, and then walked off, getting the bags again.

“Mr. Robotnik! Please get down from that window at once!”

“Oh, hehehe~ Hello, nurse~

“I swear, Mr. Robotnik, we are NOT a couple!”

“Ho! Says you! Look who keeps barging into my laboratory!”

“It’s a living quarters!”

“You don’t need to pay any entrance fee of mere quarts to stay here, babe~”

“AUGH.”

Sonic raced off home, before stopping to see if Rebel was out playing for recess yet.

She was!

“That’s my girl.” he watched her playing basketball and pwning the other kids, but noticed she was so good that the other kids were leaving, since she was playing mostly with herself.

“Ah, come on, kid… learn to make a friend.” he looked worriedly to her, frowning to the side of his muzzle before the baby cooed, and he looked down and smiled.

“Ah, don’t worry, Journey. You’re my girl too.” he assured, as she laughed in a baby’s way of joy before raising her hands up, wanting to play with him.

He chuckled and let her suck on his fingers before he leaned over the gates to see a boy coming up to Rebel, trying to talk to her.

She seemed to look at him and then ignore him.

Highly intrigued by this new development, Sonic looked up and scaled a tree.

He patted Journey so she wouldn’t cry as she was a bit spooked by the sudden jerk upward, but was calmed down as he moved his body up and down, trying to keep her calm.

The boy was still speaking?

“Heh, I’ll give him props for effort.” he commented, but didn’t know quite how he felt about this.

Rebel threw the ball and the boy clapped at how many times she had gotten it in.

After a moment of her not speaking to anything he was saying, she dropped the ball and walked away, as the other kids came back to play. He pushed through the crowd, though, following after her.

Now, Sonic could faintly hear the conversation.

“H-hey! Wait up!”

“No, you can’t get my father’s autograph.”

“I-I wasn’t gonna ask that!”

“Well, then… don’t ask anything about my famous dad!”

“…Okay… I won’t.”

She suddenly stopped storming off, and looked angrily over her shoulder.

“…What do you mean, you won’t?”

“I.. I honestly just wanted to talk to you.” he gestured out to her, looking afraid at her hostility.

She looked away from him and at the ground.

Sonic leaned a bit more in the tree, trying to see and hear more through distance and the leafs getting in the way, before he heard a whistle and a teacher point him out.

“Stranger danger!”

“AHH!!” he quickly jumped out of the tree, racing away as she kept blowing the whistle.

“Call the cops!”

“Eeek!” Sonic’s face strained as he tried to not run too fast, still worried about Journey.

“Now your mom’s really gonna kill me!”

The cops were on his heels as he kept trying to get away without running at his full speed.

“Stop! In the name of the law!”

“You’ve gotta kidding me…” Sonic sweatdropped, before seeing a car swerve in and the door open up.

“Huh?”

he paused and blinked a moment, before hearing a familiar voice.

“Get in!”

Amy sped down the street as she lost the cops, and then glared at him as he knew he was in trouble.

“Hehe… this is why I married ya.” he joked, but she turned her gaze to the baby.

“Is she alright?”

“Yeah, she’s fine.”

Journey spat out a twig.

“…YOU.” she glared “DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT KIND OF BACTERIA COULD BE SPREADING THROUGHOUT OUR CHILD’S BODY NOW?”

“Honey, she was just at kids gymnastics place, I think she’d had it worst off there then in a tree.” he strapped her out and let her bounce on his lap.

“A tree!? What were you doing in a tree?! You were once a respectable hero, and now look at you! Getting chase by cops. Where’d I go wrong!” Amy went all melodramatic as Sonic laughed, putting a hand up to his head before the car turned off a ramp and wings popped out. (Sonic all star racing reference I think?)

“Amy, I’m sorry.” he shook his head down, before looking back up at her. “There was a kid with Rebel today. He was trying to sweet talk her or something. I think he may end up a friend.” he smiled to her, hoping she was getting what he was saying.

Amy gasped, her head moving from him back to the sky. “What? Really? Oh my gosh, this is happening! My little girl! Ohh~”

“Don’t spaz out yet. She flat out rejected him.” Sonic kicked his feet up, holding the handstrap above his head as Journey laid down on his stomach, seeming to fall asleep.

He patted her back as he continued, “She’s too much like me. That worrisome.” Sonic seemed lost in thought for a moment.

Amy lovingly looked over to him, worried about what he meant by that, “You turned out alright.” she gently stated, and put her hand to his on Journey’s back.

“She’ll be a good kid.” she patted his hand and put her own back to the wheel.

He shrugged, then held up Journey and sniffed. “Wow, still good.” he grinned, surprised she hadn’t-

“You had to say something.”

Amy heard the sound of an unpleasant explosion happening in Sonic’s arms, as he looked away, and gently, slowly regretting his last statement, strapped her back to him.

“Well, bath time was always a great bonding experience.” Sonic clearly was being sarcastic.

Amy rolled down the windows. “For you or for me?” she hinted at doing most of the work again.

He tried not to breath in much, but still sighed, “How’s the rascals?”

“Speed’s got a fling.”

“AGAIN!?” Sonic, in pure shock, double-taked and shook his head, “That boy just had a crush a week ago! What was her name? Verri? Verah?”

“Veronica. Yeah. Apparently she’s off with a new boo.”

Sonic flung his hands up and let them drop. “You snooze, you loose.”

“He’s got a girl named… ~Sandy~… coming to his band practice today.”

“…Like.. hillybilly?” he mocked with buck-teeth. “Sandy, or like… oooh… Sandy.” he bounced his eyebrows up as if he saw a cute girl.

Amy shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Probably blonde.”

“That kid really needs to slow down.”

“He’s much like us.”

“Like us? You mean, like YOU.” he directly poked her in the shoulder, gesturing to her before sitting down.

“Nah, he’s got my eyes, my good looks, but he lacks…emm.. class.” He rubbed his fingers together, as Amy looked at him and ‘pfft’d.

“What?”

“Class? Sonic, please.” she called him out on his bluff.

“What?! I totally had you at ‘hello’!” Sonic leaned back, trying to act sexy.

“Really? I believe I said, ‘hello~’ first.” Amy seductively said ‘hello’ but  still was being feisty about her statement. “Sonic, you could woo a girl, but you just never were in the mood too.” she landed the car as Sonic looked offended, pouting.

“At least you admit I could.” He gave her an look as he moved his head down, then flicked the car open, as if trying to have style as he got out.

“I married a poser.” Amy got out of the car, but gave him a joking smile as he walked over to her.

“You know a man looks even more sexy with a baby strapped to his stomach.” Sonic confidently walked up to her, sticking his chest out with the stinky little baby on it.

She giggled, pretending to be impressed as she admired the baby. “Ohh~ I love the color.” she teased, as he laughed lightly and they leaned with a kiss.

After getting home, bath time was Sonic’s turn, and yes, he had to take one too.

Amy got a call from Tails that he’d pick up Freedom to teach him more about electronics, since her kid was kinda a nerd for building and racing cars.

She ‘okay’d it, before getting another call that Sandy had come, and that Speed rocked his heart out to her, but you know, totally subtle about it. He said it would be weird to get her number but totally had her eyes on him the whole time.

Amy rolled her own eyes and thought that was nice.

Rebel came home and Sonic questioned her a little about the boy, but she simply said he was just a friend, but her father knew better, and grinned from ear to ear.

“Riiight~” he winked to her, putting his arms on his hips before picking out a book. “It’s about time we had a little talk..”

“SONIC!”

“Not that one!” he cried out the door to Amy, and then sat down with Rebel to read her another adventure. “Just about how boys are stupid and women are-” he leaned down to Rebel’s ear, “Sometimes stupider.”

She gave him a frown. “Only because men lead the way.”

“OW!” Sonic pretended to have a knife in his chest and pulled it out. “That sass almost killed me!”

She laughed, as he read her a story and tried to tie it back to safety around boys.

(I love Sonamy fam, so much T-T And yes, this will be a fanfiction. I’m planning on it :3 here’s a sneak peek at the kids! lol)