#no one will ever be good enough for my mothers

[yuri-is-online]

Jade desperately googling and reading threads about mer x human pregnancies before he even dates yuu.

It differs from species to species, usually fem mer x male human results in viable pregnancies, there are a two articles about eels and humans, but none about morays.

His hope is dwindling, and the general consensus about deep sea folk relationships with humans isn't very good.

I HC that male mer x female human pregnancies don't last very long. After the sperm makes contact with an egg, it'll need a few months of growth before it's expelled from the body and put into the sea. Those kinds of couples usually have one child at a time, it depends on the number of available eggs.

Modern day people in twst have aquariums that are made to hold the clutches in a safe environment away from predators. The aquariums can be used both underwater and on land. After 'hatching' the babies are translucent, they are kept in the aquariums until they gain colour. Once they have enough colour they are let out.

The smallest aquariums need to hold at least one human adult, so that a parent can interact and communicate with their clutch during the growing process.

I think I read a post/fic with a similar headcannon to this? Long long ago, perhaps even before I even downloaded Twisted Wonderland. I don't fully remember... but it is something I have been thinking about a decent bit ever since you sent this ask because it raises so many questions.

I think it makes the most sense in human x mer relationships for one or the other to take a transformation potion and move onto the land/into the sea. In these cases pregnancy/egg laying would go as it would "normally" but what you're suggesting made me think about what would happen if a couple got it on raw in their normal forms and not transformed. Would that result in a viable pregnancy? If it did would it produce the sorts of offspring you are suggesting or would it result in some sort of hybrid child, barely held together by their own magic?

The aquariums are a good idea, the story seems to suggest that Jade and Floyd had other siblings once but they didn't make it. Their mother's obsession with checking up on them and teaching self defense makes a lot of sense if you think of that... she lost most of her babies, she wants the two she has to remain safe (i bet she's going feral rn, let Mama Leech into the enclosure S.T.Y.X. she'll put Malleus in his place ٩(๑`^´๑)۶) My question is whether or not that would interfere with the development of the eggs, especially on land. The deep ocean is very cold, recreating that on land could be problematic. With how few merfolk seem to bother with land (Azul mentions not many people bother with the free program in Book 6) there likely wouldn't be much of anyone thinking up a solution to this problem so few people have.

But Jade has that problem. Or will, he's sure of it but that's a minor detail- point is this is a problem he's actively thinking about. It keeps him awake at night, Jade strikes me as someone who would do a lot of research about this. It's part of how he loves, pouring through a pile of scientific articles that was slim to begin with but feel irrelevant now. None of these help him understand his chances because he is from the deep sea, Jade might be hardened towards the death of his siblings but he thinks of his own children and a rage unlike any he's ever known begins to stir in the pit of his stomach. Later, much later when he is explaining this all to you he will brush it off as him considering your human sensibilities, but the truth is written plain on his face. This little aquarium he has made was a solution painstakingly crafted with help from his own obsessions. It's the most important terrarium he has ever made because it will contain the most precious of all life forms, ones he watches grow in awe as he coos softly. These children were wanted long before they were ever born, their parents loved them to the point of invention and every second up until they hatch and forever after.

[save-the-villainous-cat]

mother feed us we are hungry in horny jail

"I didn't expect you to show up," the hero said. They worried their bottom lip between their teeth.

"How could I not?"

"You have never been a fan of goodbyes. You usually just disappear whenever you want."

"This is different," the villain said. They took a step towards the hero and touched their collarbone immediately. It had become a habit, a simple motion that calmed both their anxiety. The hero knew about that, about the endless worries and the bottomless fears. It was everlasting, it was always hovering.

It came with the job, they supposed. But the villain had it, too. And the hero's colleagues had it and the hero's boss had it. Like a sickness with no cure.

So, in a way, a simple touch could be like medicine.

"I'm scared," the hero admitted.

"Why?" The villain pressed a soft kiss to the hero's shoulder and the hero allowed themselves to imagine this was an evening like any other. Just for a second, though.

"I can't lose you and I...I just can't let go. I can't. I don't want to."

It had started half a year ago. The villain had been injured and the hero, although absolutely terrified, had saved them from certain death. Ever since, the villain had been like a protective shadow that followed them.

And then one night, they had kissed for the first time when the villain had saved the hero.

What had happened after that was quite clear: two people who were not supposed to be with each other couldn't keep their hands off each other and started regularly without anyone else knowing.

And now, the villain had to leave for three months.

"You don't have to let go," the villain said. Their voice was - as always - calm and soft. Their hand travelled down the hero's side until it reached their hip and the hero couldn't fight the oncoming blush. "I promise you won't have to."

"But what if you come back and you don't like me anymore? What if you find someone else?" the hero asked. Those questions had boiled inside of them for quite a while but up until now, they had never dared to whisper them.

Because, after all, this relationship wasn't official. It wasn't a thing. It was behind the backs of bosses, friends, family even. Behind closed doors. They didn't go out together, they didn't pick up each other from work. They didn't meet the other's family. They didn't go on vacation together, they weren't friends with each other's friends.

It wasn't what the hero had expected. But the hero had also not expected the villain to develop such a soft spot for them.

And if someone else could give the villain exactly that: a relationship without all the secrecy for outsiders, then maybe it was better for the hero to let go now.

"No one compares to you, my love," the villain said. Their lips met the hero's and it was tender enough for the hero to feel protected from even anxiety. "And I am selfish. I want a good person to be my lover. You are, undoubtedly, the best human being I will ever encounter in my life. I'd be stupid to throw that away for a quickie."

"You mean that?" The villain started to kiss the hero's throat. At first, it was quite innocent but the hero's heartbeat started racing when they realised the villain was taking their sweet time and turned kisses into suction. Every hickey they left behind, they kissed softly.

"You want me to prove it," the villain murmured against the hero's throat, "don't you?"

The villain took the overwhelmed hero's hand and pressed their nemesis against the desk of the hero's office.

"I...I..."

"Yes?" The villain's hips were against theirs in seconds and the hero (stupidly) couldn't find any words. To have the villain's undivided attention on them, their entire focus, could be overpowering but whenever the hero felt anxiety crawl up their calf, the villain's fingers crawling down their thigh relaxed them.

"Please don't tease me," the hero begged. They grabbed the villain's forearm and squeezed weakly. Partly as a warning, partly as a plea. They took in deep breaths. The villain desired them like no one had before.

It was nearly ridiculous how much the villain needed touch. Sometimes, it seemed like they needed physical contact to function. In the mornings, the hero had to climb on top every time, touching the villain's chest and throat to get them to come out of bed.

"Don't worry, darling." The villain found the zipper on the hero's back and pulled down slowly while their eyes jumped from the hero's eyes to their lips. Their flat hand slipped under the superhero suit, touching tired muscles and scarred skin. The hero had been on guard duty the last few hours, so naturally, they were a little tired. "I will tease you a little. Only a little."

Their hand traveled down the hero's bare back. Their fingers stopped when they reached the hero's underwear. And the hero had to gasp for air. Too surprised to take over any type of control, they put themselves into the villain's hands and the villain played with the fabric of the hero's underwear between their fingers.

"You're evil."

"So I've been told." The villain smiled their brilliant smile and tipped their head to the side. "I love you."

The hero's heart stopped. The villain had never said that before.

They wanted to say it back, but the villain's hand was on the best way to slip under the hero's underwear and do some unholy things. So, the hero only sighed happily, despite the dooming last night together, despite the fear and the anxiety. In three months, a lot could happen.

But the villain was here.

"Those thoughts of yours are so silly." The villain pressed another kiss to the hero's lips, more demanding this time. With their thumb slipping into the hero's mouth, they asked for access and the hero nearly melted when they felt the villain's tongue in their mouth.

They could barely kiss back. Could barely think.

"You're mine, don't you know?" the villain whispered and a shiver ran down the hero's spine. The villain was serious. Very serious. "And now, let me prove it to you."

[janeyseymour]

Without a Shadow of a Doubt

This has been sitting in my WIPs for literal months- and here it is. I hope you enjoy her.

Summary: Melissa helps you raise a child, and on more than one occasion, you have serious doubts that you're a good mother.

WC: ~5.1k

When you moved into your new apartment complex with your three month old baby girl, perhaps the last thing you expected was to meet someone who would fill a hole in your heart that your ex-husband left when he up and abandoned you and the new baby that he claimed would be the love of his life. 

Of course, that statement came with a caveat; he wanted a son. So when the doctor gleefully announced that you had given birth to a daughter, he fumed and stormed his way out of the hospital. And when you came home the next day, once your mother picked you up and took you back to your quaint little apartment in, anything that belonged to you was in a box. He told you to get out, and the divorce papers would come through a few weeks later.

Your mother had been gracious enough to let you and your little girl stay with her for some time, but you need your freedom and space. So, not only did you have an ongoing divorce- you also had a three month old baby that depended on you for everything, and on top of that, you were dealing with moving into a new apartment. So, maybe the last thing you expected was to meet someone who would fill a hole in your heart, but the absolute last thing that you expected was to fall in love with a woman. But it would end up happening. 

Your mother has been a huge help in this whole ordeal- helping to bring the various boxes into the new little one bedroom apartment that now had your name on the lease, holding and rocking your little girl while you did as much as you could, fed you and the baby when you were too exhausted and would fall asleep sitting in the rocking chair that she had helped assemble, and above all else, she has been your rock. She’s been the one person who shows you unwavering love and support in terms of your impending divorce. Almost everyone else in your life attempted to show sympathy, but it oftentimes came off as judgmental or downright pity.

But now, your mother is sitting in the Philadelphia airport waiting for her flight back to Indiana to take off, and you’re in the new apartment all alone. All alone, aside from the baby. She’s strapped to your chest as you attempt to make dinner for yourself, but something in her little body is not having any parts of this. She wails- ear-piercing shrieks that make you want to burst into tears too. You quickly get her out of the sling and attempt to hold her and soothe her all while continuing to stir the pot of soup you have on the burner. This was so much easier when you had both hands free.

But your little love just continues to cry, her face bright red, and the tears are running down her pudgy little cheeks as she clenches her little fists and beats your chest repeatedly.

Giving up, you turn off the stove and turn your attention fully to the baby.

“Sweet Ellie girl,” you sigh. You stroke her cheek gently with the tip of your finger. “What is it?” You know she isn’t hungry- she ate half an hour ago. She burped afterward. Her diaper is dry. What on Earth could this sweet little thing want? You suppose that she just wants to be held and loved. You can do that- you can do that far better than your soon-to-be ex-husband could ever. With a little exhale, you open the pantry and grab yourself a granola bar to eat before settling into the rocking recliner that you have in the living room thanks to your father. You eat around Ellie as you mindlessly hum a few lullabies before switching into a few of the softer songs you know. You were somewhat hoping that she would be lulled to sleep with your soothing voice and sweet melodies, but your efforts are fruitless. That sweet little love of yours continues to stare up at you with wide eyes as she clutches your pinky in her own hand.

You sit there for what feels like forever, humming songs ranging from Adele to Bob Dylan to Join Mitchell and everything in between. That is, until you hear a knock on your door.

That in itself is odd. You don’t know anybody here, at least not yet. And it couldn’t be your mother. You know she had boarded her plane an hour ago and is in the air- she had texted you that much. She then followed that text up with a reminder to take care of yourself and that she was always just a phone call away if you needed her for anything. Your heart almost flies into your throat at the thought of it being Michael, your ex. Why would he show up here after serving you with divorce papers and telling you that he wanted absolutely nothing to do with the ‘little worm’ you brought into the world?

“Let’s go see who’s at the door,” you whisper to the little one in your arms. You continue to mindlessly hum a tune, one that you’ve always adored- ‘Here Comes the Sun’ by the Beatles- as you make your way over to the door. Looking through the peephole, you see a redhead with a box in her arms. Her green eyes nearly stare into your soul as she tries to decipher if you’re going to answer or not.

Out of curiosity, you open the door. “Hello, can I help you?”

The woman, whose green eyes have already been imprinted into your memory, just gives you half a shrug as she looks down at the baby in your arms.

“Uh, I didn’t think I left any boxes in the moving truck?” you question with a nervous chuckle.

The woman almost snorts out a laugh before she remembers why she’s here. “No. I uh, I’m your next door neighbor. I saw that you had a baby, and I work at a school, and I-“ she hums absentmindedly. “Some of my coworkers were getting rid of their baby items, so I came to offer them to you- if you want them.”

“Oh!” your eyebrows creep up your forehead. “That’s- that’s really kind of you.”

“Do you want the stuff or not?” the redhead asks.

“Please,” you smile softly. “Thank you.”

“Where you want it?” she asks a she looks around your place.

“If you just want to put it on the kitchen table, I can handle it once I get Ellie in her crib for the night.”

The woman, whose name you still don’t know, enters your apartment, sets the box down, and looks around.

“Did you not eat?”

You look up at her, lifting your gaze from your baby. “I did.” Your eyes dart to the wrapper from your granola bar, and you’re just a bit embarrassed that you hadn’t thrown it out. But how were you to know that she would drop by?

“All you had was a granola bar?” she asks as her own eyes follow your gaze. You nod sheepishly. Her eyes go to the pot on the stove, and before you can stop her, she looks inside. It’s just chicken stock, onion, and celery- that was as far as you got with making dinner before Ellie started wailing and effectively put your meal on hold. “Sit down,” are the next words out of her mouth. “Hold your little girl, and I’m making you dinner.”

“What?” your mouth opens and closes a few times. “I- You don’t have to do that. I don’t know you, you don’t know me.”

“Melissa,” is all the woman says as she opens up your refrigerator and grabs the chicken breast that you were meant to put into the soup. “Now sit and relax.”

Her tone leaves no room for argument, so you settle in a chair.

“Th-thank you,” you say quietly after a few moments of awkward silence.

She waves a hand in dismissal. “So, what’s your story?”

You mull over in your head just how much of your past you should reveal to this woman, a stranger- but also your next door neighbor who is cooking you dinner. You end up detailing that your husband left you days after you had your little girl, just dipping slightly into the fact that he left you due to the fact that you had a daughter and not a son. “Her name is Elizabeth, but I’ve kind of landed on the nickname ‘Ellie’,” you tell her softly.

“And your name?” she prompts.

You give her your name as she stirs the dinner she’s making. And it smells heavenly.

“Well, Y/N,” Melissa says your name in such a way that you’ve never loved your name more. “For what it’s worth, I think you’ll be better off without him. He sounds like a jackass.” And then she sets the bowl down in front of you and holds her arms out expectantly.

“Oh,” you whisper. “I uh, I can hold her while I eat. You don’t have to. You’ve already done enough.”

“Just let me hold her.” Green eyes are rolled before practically daring you to protest. “You’ve been holding her for the last hour, at least. Your arms have to be tired.”

You bite your lip before hesitantly handing your sweet pride and joy over to the woman who stormed her way into your life not an hour ago, expecting Ellie to fuss- the only people she let hold her were you and her mother. She’s not even particularly fond of your father holding her, much to his disappointment. And somehow, Melissa knows just how to keep your little girl calm and quiet while you eat one of the most delicious bowls of soup you’ve ever had. She even has your little girl giggling before managing to get Ellie to fall asleep. You see the way that she’s a natural with your daughter, watching over both her and you with soft eyes that you weren’t quite expecting.

And since that day, Melissa has been a near constant in your apartment. Whether it’s to make a meal, to hold Ellie while you simply rest and reset, or to keep you company, she’s almost always there. Her presence is always warm and inviting, which is something that you’ve come to learn isn’t necessarily the norm for the woman that lives next to you.

You’ve discovered that she usually likes to keep to herself and her personal life is under wraps to almost everybody she knows. You’ve also discovered that you are the exception. Melissa Schemmenti, a woman who is usually very reserved and has described herself as ‘an aloof bitch at times’, is beyond soft for you. She’s even softer when it comes to your little girl, who you swear is growing up before your eyes.

About three months pass of you living in this new apartment with your next door neighbor almost always keeping you company before you finally give into the fact that you have a small thing for your neighbor. It takes another month before you ask her what her game is.

“What do you mean?” Melissa rolls her eyes at your question.

You hum softly as the two of you prepare a meal while Ellie is down for her nap. “You’ve told me yourself that you’re tough, aloof- and yet you’re always so gentle and kind to my daughter and me.”

She laughs, like fully laughs. “I thought my intentions were pretty clear.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I started by helping out a neighbor, but I may or may not have fallen for her and her sweet little girl.” Green eyes search your face for your reaction. The only reaction she gets is you taking a step towards her before pulling her in by the waist and planting a soft kiss to her lips.

Her eyes are blown wide when you pull away, and for a split second you think you made a mistake. But then she’s opening her mouth again. “Wow.”

“I- I may have fallen for you too,” you admit, cheeks flushed. “But I never thought you would want to-”

“I thought you were straight,” Melissa bites her bottom lip. At the shake of your head, she breathes a quiet, “Oh thank God,” before pulling you back in for a second kiss. 

That is the beginning of your relationship with Melissa Schemmenti, next door neighbor. From the start, it’s been a serious relationship. You made it quite clear that you did not have the time for any flings, and she just rolled her eyes before heading towards the little nursery that you had set up for your daughter. Sometimes she jokes that she’s really only here for Ellie and not you.

She’s always been great with your sweet girl- and as you would come to find out, she will always be great with Ellie. So great actually… that sometimes feel that she’s a better mother to your daughter than you are. 

The first time it happens is when Ellie is turning one year old. You’ve been so wrapped up in your job and making sure that your little girl is as happy as she can be at any given moment, that you entirely forget about planning a first birthday party for her.

“Shit!” you groan as you’re finishing up a project that you brought home for the weekend. “Fucking dammit!”

Your girlfriend stops her cooking and turns to you with a raised eyebrow. “Care to share with the class why you’re yelling out curse words while our girl is asleep?”

You pause your tirade when you hear her refer to Ellie as both of yours- it’s something she’s started doing recently, and it makes your heart flutter for a second. A dopey grin washes over your face for a moment before you frown again.

“I’ve been so busy trying to work on this website that I forgot to plan Ellie girl’s birthday party,” you admit quietly, planting your head in your hands. “I can’t believe I forgot. I’m a terrible mother.”

“You are not a terrible mother, and you didn’t forget,” Melissa tells you as she turns back around to tend to the pan on the stove.

“What are you talking about? I absolutely did.”

“You’ve been mumbling about planning it in your sleep, but when I never got an invitation, I planned it all for the two of you,” the redhead reveals.

“Wha- how?”

“If you checked your personal email once in a while, you would know this,” Melissa teases you. “It was pulled up on your laptop when you fell asleep in bed a few weeks ago, so I just sent out some e-vites.”

A few clicks of your laptop later, and you see that what she’s saying is true- there are quite a few responses to a birthday party being held at the apartment this weekend.

“I’ve been quietly cleaning while you’ve been working yourself to the point of exhaustion too, so the place will be ready,” the teacher chuckles. “I figure we use your place for the actual gathering, and we can put coats and presents and things like that at mine.”

You stand and make your way over to your girlfriend, spinning her around to face you. “What did I do to deserve you?”

“I ask myself that about you every night,” Melissa hums as she leans in to give you a quick peck.

“Thank you,” you whisper as you close your eyes and press your forehead against hers. “I’m glad that Ellie at least has one mother that didn’t forget to plan her first birthday party.”

Your girlfriend rolls her eyes, not that you see it. “I already told you, you didn’t forget- you just needed a bit of a push to send out the invites.”

“You planned the whole thing,” you point out.

Melissa kisses you softly. “I’m just looking out for my girls the best I can.”

The birthday party is an absolute success. It’s filled with her coworkers who have come to love and adore your little girl almost as much as Melissa, your parents were able to fly out for the gathering, and a few of your coworkers from your new job are able to make it to help celebrate the milestone of your little girl.

After everyone heads out, you’re exhausted, Ellie is absolutely beat, and you’re sure Melissa has to be tired too. But still, she insists that you hand over your little girl for her to hold while you take a nap after all of the emotions that you’ve felt today.

“Babe, I can handle it,” you try to tell her. “I’m-” you stifle a yawn. 

“Go take a nap, hun,” the redhead says softly as she kisses your cheek. “Miss El and I are just going to do a bit of cleaning up before we come lay down with you.”

About an hour has gone by by the time your little girl and girlfriend are finished tidying up, and you’re dozing in and out of sleep. Feeling the bed dip slightly, you peel open your eyes and hold out your arms for your little girl to come into them. Ellie wiggles in the redhead’s arms and reaches for you, and as Melissa lays the two of them down, Ellie squeals with delight- she’s between two of her favorite people. She lets out the softest yawn before promptly falling asleep.

Melissa watches as your eyes soften, gaze on your little angel. “She’s perfect,” she muses softly.

“She really is,” you agree just as quietly. “And it has a lot to do with the fact that she has an amazing second mother who has really stepped up.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s because she has you for a mother,” the teacher argues.

You roll your eyes. “I’m hardly a great mother,” you sigh. “Honestly, there are some days I think you’re a better mother than I am.”

Melissa frowns, the lines in her forehead deepening. “Hun.”

You shrug. “I do my best with her, but you pulled all of this together for us. If it was up to me, there wouldn’t have been a first birthday party.”

“There would have been,” your girlfriend tells you. “And it would’ve been just as great.”

“I still should’ve-“

“You do everything you can for that little girl of ours,” the redhead says softly as she reaches over and brushes a few hairs away from your face. “Sometimes you need a little help, and I’ll always be here to help.”

As the years go on, there are times where you feel that you’re doing wonderfully as a mother, and there are other times that you feel like you have no idea what you’re doing and are beyond terrified that you’re ruining your child’s life. 

Every time, Melissa is there to reassure you that you are perfect for your little girl.  

The second time that you feel like Melissa is a better mother than you and you are feeling doubtful tenfold, at this point, you’ve been married for three years now. Ellie is five and entering kindergarten. The day where you send your little girl off comes quicker than you ever could’ve imagined, and yet here you are, walking hand in hand with your wife and your daughter into Abbott.

“You’re going to have such a great time with Auntie Barb,” you tell Ellie softly.

“It’s Mrs. Howard, Momma,” your daughter giggles. “At school, she’s Mrs. Howard.”

“How silly of me,” you playfully roll your eyes. “You’re going to have a great time with Mrs. Howard.”

And all is fine, and Ellie is excited, until it comes time to part with you and Melissa. Then it’s waterworks, and she can’t believe that you would even leave her for this long (despite the fact that she’s spent several nights with Barb and Gerald).

Despite every word of encouragement and praise that you give your little girl, she’s still absolutely hysterical. She clings to you, yes- but she’s mostly clinging to your wife. Ellie wants you, yes- but she really wants Melissa. The redhead looks down at the little girl she loves more than anything and sighs. She really should be down in her own classroom prepping for her little eagles, but Ellie comes first- she always has and always will.

“Baby,” Melissa breathes quietly as she kneels down in front of the girl in pigtails. “You’ve been so excited for school. What has you so nervous all of a sudden?”

“I want you,” Ellie mumbles into your wife’s shoulder. “I don’t wanna go to school; I just want to spend time with you.”

“Well,” the second grade teacher says softly. “Little girls have to go to school. But can you think of it this way? You get to make new friends, and I know Auntie Barb is so excited to have her little Ellie Belly in her class. During lunch, you can come say hi to Mom for the first few days, and we can call Momma if you want. And then when we get home, you get all the love.”

Your little girl looks at your wife suspiciously before furrowing her brow and sticking out her pinky. “You promise?”

You see the warmth wash over Melissa’s face as she sticks out her pinky. “I promise you, lovey. So, why don’t we let Momma head to work, and you and I can make our way down to Auntie Barb’s?”

Ellie worries her lip between her teeth before looking to you. “I guess.”

Green eyes meet your own as she pulls your little girl into her arms again. She whispers conspiratorially to your daughter, “I think Momma might need a hug before we head down, what do you think?”

Ellie flings herself at you with a bright, somewhat still teary, grin. “I love you Momma.”

“I love you too, sweet girl,” you tell her softly as you hold her close. You pepper her face in kisses before releasing her back.

Your daughter’s first day of kindergarten has you anxious as all hell. You hope she’s having an okay day, and you really do expect to receive a phone call at lunch from the two of them. You don’t.

You having a good first day? Is El? you text your wife.

It takes a minute, but you get a reply back. These kids are going to be the death of me, but El is having a grand ol’ time with Barb. She told me at lunch that she can’t wait to come back tomorrow.

You smile at that. You knew once Ellie actually made it into the room, she would be just fine. You only wish that your words of encouragement and affirmations would’ve made her feel more at ease. Instead, it was Melissa’s words. Thank you for helping get her to class today when I couldn’t. You’re the best Mom that little girl could ask for.

I’m pretty sure that’s you.

I couldn’t get her to let go of either of us, you reply. You just seem to have the magic touch with her.

Babe, you get a response. You have such a way with our daughter, but you also have to remember that I’ve been a teacher for years and have dealt with kids not wanting to go into school for forever- this is new to you just as it is for El.

That day when you get home from work, Melissa and your Ellie are already curled up on the couch relaxing. They’re both dead tired from their first days, and you can tell that it’s going to be an early night for everyone the way both of their eyelids are drooping as they try to stay awake for dinner. You drop your bag on the bench you keep by the front door before pressing gentle kisses to both of their heads and walking into the kitchen to start on dinner.

“Don’t,” your wife’s voice floats into the room as she carries a barely awake Ellie in. “I ordered your favorite on my way home, it’ll be here in about ten minutes.”

Your face falls just slightly- you were planning on making their favorite, in order for them to be able to relax and enjoy the first day of school being over. You just give her a soft smile instead, before you turn yourself back around to face the counter. And that’s when you see the beautiful bouquet of flowers sitting in a vase.

“Honey,” you sigh.

“Miss Ellie girl and I stopped on our way home to pick up flowers for Momma,” Melissa says softly. “Didn’t we?”

Your daughter nods in her arms before reaching for you. With a small grin on your face, and a few tears now beading in your eyes, you take your little girl. “Thank you,” you whisper as you delicately press a kiss to your wife’s cheek. You then dot a few sweet kisses to Ellie’s hairline.

Dinner is a quiet affair aside from Ellie sleepily telling you about her first day in kindergarten. The three of you settle on the couch to relax once dinner is cleaned up. It doesn’t take long for Ellie to fall asleep, sprawled out on both you and Melissa.

Melissa quietly details her first day- how the children were, how she was so happy to see Ellie giggling along with her classmates at lunch, and how Barbara just gushed about how your daughter was a big help in calming others’ nerves.

“She’s a good kid,” your wife finishes. “You’ve done great with her, babe.”

You look down at the little girl laying in your lap. “I didn’t do much.”

Green eyes stare at you incredulously. “Honey, I wish you could see how amazing you are. You’ve done wonderfully with her. She has your kindness and your compassion- she has your heart. And unfortunately for both of us, she picked up on my stubbornness. You’ve done so much for our little girl, and you are the perfect mother to her.”

You shrug. “I don’t know. I just… you know how I feel about this.”

“Tell me.”

“You already know,” you sigh as you rest your head against her shoulder. “And I think we need to start heading up to bed.”

“It can wait a few minutes,” your wife tells you. “So talk about it.”

With a breath, you tell her how you feel that you’re failing because you don’t know what you’re doing. You’re hurting Ellie because you’re so unsure of what you’re doing that your little girl is aware of your hesitations in the way you speak with her and act with her sometimes.

That weekend you head out to the grocery store, and for once Melissa and your daughter are not with you. No. Instead, they’re at home. Your wife has Ellie make you a card telling you that you are the world’s best mother and listing the things that she loves about you while Melissa writes it out. Then, the two of them get to turning the living room into a comfortable space to watch your favorite movies.

When you return home, your welcomed with a new bouquet of flowers (you later find out that Barbara dropped them off while you were out), the card, and what you can only describe as a blanket fort.

“What is this?” you ask softly as you carry in an armful of groceries.

“The best, for Momma,” Melissa says softly as she takes the bags out of your hands. She sets them down before pulling you into her arms. “Enjoy today.” She kisses you quickly before heading back out to the car and bringing in the rest of the groceries while Ellie pulls you into the massive pile of blankets on the floor.

“Momma, read the card,” your little girl tells you. You pull her into your lap and cuddle her close before reading the card. On one side is what Ellie had to say, while the other side is what your wife wanted to tell you. Their words and kindness bring tears to your eyes.

“Did we make you sad?” your daughter looks to you fearfully.

“No, baby. These are happy tears. Happy tears,” you promise her as you repeatedly kiss her head over and over.

Once your wife is finished putting away the groceries, she plops herself down next to the two of you and reaches for the remote. You put a gentle hand out to stop her, and when she looks at your curiously, you just kiss her gently.

“Thank you,” you sigh quietly as you press your foreheads together. The moment of silence most likely would’ve been longer if not for Ellie squealing about putting the movie on that she had picked out for you.

The rest of the day passes by in a blissful haze full of movies, warmth, and lots of snacks. The two of you put Ellie to bed before cleaning up the living room mess, and as you clean, you pick up the card again and read what Melissa had to say.

“I mean it, you know,” your wife says softly as she wraps her arms around your waist. “I am the luckiest person alive to get to have fallen in love with you, to help raise our beautiful little girl, and be the one who gets to love both of you through every high and low- every doubt and fear. But I promise you, we are the lucky ones to have you.”

You crane your neck to kiss her gently. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” Melissa repeats back as she tucks a few stray hairs behind your ear. “Please know that I will always be here for you- my wonderful, lovely, perfect wife, as we work our way through motherhood together.”

From next to your wife, you groan as you let your head fall against her shoulder.

“What?”

“If I’m feeling like this now, how the hell am I going to feel when she’s a teenager?”

The redhead chuckles as she brings your left hand up to her lips and kisses just under the rings that sit beautifully on your finger. “I’ll be there for you, and Ellie. Always.”

And she is there for you. She always has been. She always is. She always will be.

tags and lmk if u wanna be on this list: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo @m1lflov3rrr @ricejucie

[allllium]

The Perfect Gift

~ Today is my birthday and I immediately thought about Remus being the best boyfriend ever so here's something short and sweet about Remus being amazing for your birthday <3

~ Fluff, Remus being a little insecure, WC: 963

~ Remus gets you the perfect birthday gift

Remus was really nervous. He often is around you but this time it's worse. Today is your birthday and he got you what at the time seemed like a great gift, but now, after seeing the things you got from everything else, he doesn't feel like it's so great anymore.

All day he has seen you get these amazing, slightly expensive gifts, all of which now make his gift pale in comparison. He decided not to buy you anything this year, feeling like nothing was good enough for you, instead he made you something. More like he tries to make something and ending up needing his mum to help him.

He holds the bag tentatively in his hand. A simple black bag with a ribbon of your favorite color keeping it tied. He makes his way to the muggle restaurant you agreed to meet at for dinner. After spending all day at a birthday party with your friends and family, you went shopping with a couple close friends to get new clothes for a fancy dinner.

"Rem!" You light up when you see him. You'd just gotten there moments before and decided to wait outside until he showed up.

"Hi angel." He greets in a gently murmur, pulling you in for a quiet kiss.

"You got me a gift?" You smile and ask. Of course you expected it considering Remus gets you gifts more often than you can count.

"Obviously. I love any day where I can celebrate you." He begins to walk into the restaurant as if he didn't just make you swoon. You move quickly to catch up and grab his hand.

"What is it?" You question inpatiently. You've been waiting all day for this, not just for a gift but getting a gift from him specifically. You know whatever is in that bag will be much more thoughtful and meanful to you than anything else you've gotten today. Everything else were things that people spent a lot of money on to make up for the up they don't really know what you would want. Remus knows.

"You're gonna have to wait till after dinner."

"Awwww why?" You immediately whine.

"Cause I said so."

"Meanie." You whisper, walking up towards the hostess.

Dinner lasts well over an hour. Well dinner lasted about 20 minutes once you got your food, but you and Remus stayed far longer. You spent the time talking and laughing and on Remus's end clearly procrastinating giving you your gift.

You know he's doing this because he's been fiddling with the ribbon and steering the conversation away from it every time.

"So what's making you overthink this time?"

For a moment he gives you a strange look but he quickly smiles and asks what you mean.

"Well you won't give me the gift which wouldn't matter except you've been really excited about it for weeks. Obviously you're thinking about something and I guarantee you have no reason to." You swiftly explain.

"I'm sorry, angel. I didn't get you a gift. I made you one well my mother and I made you one. But I don't know if it'll match up to the other gifts you got today." He shyly says. His face turning a shade of red.

"You made me something?" You grin wildly at him and his overly sweet heart. "Gimme it. Please."

"I don't know maybe I should get you something else."

"Hell no. Hand it over before I come over this table and get it myself." The threat comes out of your mouth before you have the opportunity to stop it. Remus only smiles at you, both because he knows you'll actually do it and it makes him feel slightly better about his strange insecurity.

He finally sighs and hands over the bag. Knowing he really has no choice. He watches anxiously as you carefully pull off the ribbon and remove the tissue paper. Watching as your face drops and eyes slightly tear. For a moment he thinks he was right in being scared but you jump out of your seat and move to his side of the table. Your chair scraps loudly against the tile floor and he winces at the noise.

At his side of the table you hug him enough to push the air out of his lungs. You grab his face and give him many quick kisses, ignoring the strange looks from people at surrounding tables.

"I love it. I love it. I love you!" You exclaim.

"Are you sure?" He asks, confused by your out of ordinary outburst.

"Remus this is the best gift I've ever gotten. I love you so much." You immediately ask him to put it on you. Lighting up even more if possible when you look down at your wrist to see the gorgeous bracelet. The gorgeous bracelet that your amazing boyfriend, and his mum, hand made just for you. The gorgeous bracelet with carved, metal charms dangling from it. The gorgeous bracelet that somehow fits you perfectly.

"I thought that I could make you more charms as time goes on. Things that represent what we are together, y'know." You look at him for a split second, with tears in your eyes, before looking back down to closely admire the charms you already have. As of right now there's a wolf, a star, a flower, and a sun. The sun is special. You flip it over to see a small engraved heart with both your initials in it.

"You are the most perfect man to exist." You turn to him and say. "Seriously this is the best gift ever."

"I love you." He says. Standing from his chair and pulling you in by the waist.

Putting your head against his, you whisper, "I love you more."

[zxoaii]

Touch

fem! reader x bodyguard Choso

Summary: After the being sent to attend an event, Y/n and Choso find themselves more caught up with each other.

SMUT

WC: 2k

Wattpad: _Bolter

[ Y/n ]

"You look good in a suit." Choso looks at me while I adjust his tie. "You are stunning. No one is going to notice me with you right next to me." He's always so sweet.

"Thank you."

The elevator door rings out and the doors open. Choso offers me his arm. I take it as we walk into the foyer of the ballroom.

"Good evening." The host draws our attention to him. My bag clicks open as I retrieve the invitation. "He's my plus one." Of course, if he knows who I am he'd know that.

Money and Jujutsu Sorcery don't usually meet but somewhere, they did. I wouldn't say my clan is completely good but we are a force to be reckoned with.

My mother is the current head of the clan and because of my apparent lack of cursed energy, I was assigned a bodyguard.

I've had several throughout my life but this one is my favorite. Choso is a gentleman. He's caring and friendly. Not to mention, he is not bad-looking at all.

He isn't even a Jujutsu Sorcerer. He's a half-curse.

We walk into the crowded ballroom together. I love parties. They're a nightmare for him. He wouldn't ever say it out loud though.

Choso instinctively takes his arm away from me and falls two paces behind me. Technically we're supposed to act like he isn't here.

Still, it saddens me to lose his touch.

"Ms. Y/l/n, you look incredible. The last time I saw you, you were only a teenager. It's been so long!" I'm thrown into a conversation before I can tell Choso he should stand with me.

The night starts to drag on with insignificant conversations one after another. Being polite is exhausting. Especially when it's spent being polite to people who can't help but be self-obsessed.

As soon as I get a chance I excuse myself to go get a drink. I take Choso's arm and lead us to the drink table. "Do you want some?"

Choso shakes his head. Oh well. I take a glass of champagne for myself. It's a shame this is all they choose to serve. Still, it's better than nothing.

"How long have we been here?"

"45 minutes."

I want to spit my drink out. Only 45 minutes? It feels like we've been here for hours. I've been talking for hours. It's impossible.

"Seriously?"

Choso nods and scans the room. "Come on, there's not actually anyone here who's going to do anything to me." He gives me an unsure glance. "How long do we have to stay for?" My feet ache already. It's freezing in here. I would rather be anywhere else and I'd rather it just be him and I.

"You're supposed to stay for an hour and a half at least."

"What if I say I'm sick?"

Choso takes my empty glass from me and returns it to the table. "We came all this way just for this." He reminds me.

He looks so good in his suit. If I could have a picture of him dressed up like this I'd keep it in a locket.

"Y/n!" A voice calls out excitedly from behind me.

I really hate parties.

.  .  .

Choso sits in the front seat of the car as we're driven to our hotel. I can't stop admiring him. My cheeks flush when he looks at me through the rearview.

We hold eye contact until I look away.

The driver eventually stops in front of our hotel and opens my door for me. "Thank you." I step out of the car. Warm humid air wraps itself around my bare skin.

Choso follows behind me as I make my way inside. I can't come up with any valid reasons as to why I'd need to go to his room.

The walk through the lobby, then the elevator ride, and finally the walk to my room are all too short. I don't have enough time to think of something.

I stop at my door to give myself a second to think.

"Are you ok?"

My hand lingers on the doorknob for a moment before falling to my side. "Choso, you should come in with me."

I turn to look at him after I ask. "What?" This is the first time I've seen him so caught off guard. Maybe that's because he usually stands behind me.

"I want you to come in with me."

"We have our own rooms." Despite his now hardened reaction, his cheeks are red with blush. "Ok." I stop pushing and unlock my door.

"Goodni-"

Choso's hand lands on the door to stop it from shutting. He looks down at me from his place in the doorway. I step out of his way and he walks into the room. The door shuts behind him, leaving us in darkness. Some of the city lights illuminate parts of the room.

Just enough so I can see him.

My heart beats heavily in my chest as I reach out to touch him. Choso steps closer to me and allows me to start undoing his tie.

It falls to the floor but my hands remain on his chest. I have to stand on my toes to reach his lips. Choso leans in and meets me in a kiss.

My hands grip his shirt in fistfuls. Our kiss becomes increasingly desperate. My back meets the wall with a thud. One of his hands lands on the wall next to my head. The other finds its way onto my back.

Choso follows my spine with his fingers. He reaches the nape of my neck and takes the zipper of my dress. The straps fall from my shoulders as the zipper is drawn lower and lower.

When the entire thing is unzipped I let it pool around my ankles. Choso lifts me and carries me across the room. He handles me so gently. I'm laid carefully onto the bed.

My heels are slipped off my feet and then tossed across the room. Choso's lips start at my ankles and trail upwards. Each kiss leaves me more and more entranced by his touch.

As his lips meet my thighs he starts to linger longer. My fingers reach out and grab his hair. He continues up to my hips and for a moment I think he might keep going until our lips meet again.

Instead, he hooks my underwear with his fingers and gives himself more access to me. His touch runs hot across my skin as he pulls my underwear down completely.

"Is this ok?"

"You don't have to ask."

My hands encourage his movements. Choso's lips meet my core in a heated kiss. The kiss feels starved like he needs me to live. He shifts my left leg over his shoulder to give himself better access.

"Oh my god..." I sit up, resting on my elbows to look at him. Choso is still completely dressed. Despite how good-looking he is in his suit, I want it off.

"Take your shirt off."

Choso doesn't falter or stop. Instead, he works his jacket off and lets it fall to the floor. He starts working on the buttons down his shirt until he can take that off too.

His back is painted with scars that remind me of where he came from. My eyes are drawn down by his. Choso watches me through lustful hooded eyes.

His tongue presses against my clit causing my legs to bend instinctively. The dim lights from the window draw harsh shadows across his body.

Choso's hair is a mess from my hands. It falls into his face and tickles the inside of my thighs. Still, he deepens his movements.

The graze of his teeth against sensitive flesh causes a gasp. My hips grind against his mouth as he presses his tongue flat against me. Choso lets out a deep moan that vibrates through my body.

Pleasure starts to build up within me overwhelmingly quickly. "Don't stop." My pleas are answered by Choso's quickened kissing.

He moans once more. My eyes fall lower, following his arm. Choso masturbates as he eats me out. "Shit." The sigh drags on with my orgasm.

Choso doesn't stop until I fall back onto the bed. He pulls away breathlessly and fully removed his pants. His toned chest is also littered with scars that only continue to turn me on.

"Can you continue?" He licks his lips and runs his hand along my thigh. "Yes." Choso nods and reaches up to remove my bra. "You're fucking beautiful." His hands run along my body as if to memorize the feeling.

I shift to the edge of the bed, sitting on my knees so I can kiss him. This kiss is soft. Choso's hand carefully holds my chin. I follow him blindly as he sits down on the bed.

We pull away for a moment. Gentle hands guide me onto his lap. Choso holds my back as I fit him inside of me. The pain turns to pleasure within a minute.

Our eyes stay locked as I roll my hips. My nails dig into his back as I move against him. "Y/n." My name comes out as a plead more than a statement.

My desperate movements become quicker at his unsaid request. Choso peppers kisses along my neck and shoulders. He finds a spot and begins to suck on it to leave a mark.

I tilt my head to the side to give him more access. "Ah- Choso!" He bites down on my neck. I don't know if he drew blood or not but his tongue traces the bite mark several times before he moves on.

Choso's hands grip my ass. He guides me vertically in addition to my horizontal movements. Our moans grow louder together as I follow his movement.

"You're so fucking perfect." Choso catches my lips after his comment, only for a moment. He watches me with such loving eyes my heart flutters in my chest.

Has he always looked at me like this?

The buildup of my second orgasm comes along with his. His grip on me tightens, I feel the twitch of his cock inside me, and his head falls forward onto my shoulder.

Choso mumbles words I can't hear over the sound of my own moans. My orgasm washes over me so intensely that my legs twitch at his side.

We hold each other for a minute before I shift off of his lap to lie down. Choso collapses down next to me. My hand finds his, intertwining our fingers.

"You're... Unbelievable."

The smile on my face feels like it might never go away again. "Do you like me, Choso?" I look over at him from my spot.

"Like you? Of course I like you." He meets my eyes for a moment before shyly looking away. "Do you have deeper feelings for me?"

If the lighting was better I think I'd be able to see that bright red blush all across his face. "I do." His eyes search the ceiling for anything to look at other than me.

"I have deeper feelings for you too." I sit up so he can't avoid looking at me. "You do?" I brush his sweaty hair from his face. "Of course." Choso doesn't return my happy grin.

Instead, he sits up and meets my lips in another passionate kiss. My arms lock around his shoulders to hold him closer. I'd stay like this forever if I had the choice.

Choso pauses for a moment then pulls away. He rubs my thigh as his eyes trail along my neck. He stops at the spot I assume he had bitten. My fingers feel across the skin for a moment before finding the mark.

"I'm sorry. You just tasted so good."

"Don't talk."

I lean back in and happily take another kiss from him. The bite mark will be hard to hide, especially since nothing I packed covers my neck.

Still, if he wanted to bite me again he could.

We could do this all over again as many times as he wants.

[alittlebitofloveliness]

Grew in my heart

Heres part 2! Part 1 is linked here.

*******************

“Is he ever gonna wake up?”

When Pony wakes it’s to a not hushed enough whisper. 

“Course he is dumbass,” that whisper is a lot quieter, “but he’s little and he’s hurt, he’s real tired.”

“He was fine earlier.”

“He was overwhelmed,” the voice corrects, “he was bound to crash sooner or later.”

Ponyboy blinks his eyes open. Soda, Darry, and Johnny are all in a line in chairs watching him, but they quickly pretend to be busy. Doing what, he isn’t sure. He already caught them looking.

“There’s those darling eyes,” Mrs.Curtis’ voice is soft as she smiles down at him, “how did you sleep, honey?”

“Good.” He mumbles through a yawn, somehow still tired, more cozy than he can ever remember being. Somehow though, he still finds himself shy again, and he hides his face in her shoulder until she laughs, peppering his head with kisses and squeezing him gently, coaxing him out of the fabric. He lets himself enjoy it. It won’t last, he knows, but he can let himself pretend, have some good memories to hold close to his chest when he ends up alone tonight in a stranger's house, on a lumpy sofa in a yet another spooky, cold basement. 

“Curtis family?” Suddenly, the door to the office across from Ms. Summers opens and a lady with curly hair Ponyboy has seen a few times in the past when he’s been in the waiting room sticks her head out. She smiles the way Ms.Summers does, in a way that never really reaches her eyes, “Sorry to keep you waiting. I’ve got the paperwork all ready here, I just need the mother and father’s signatures, and then you just need to get it signed by a judge to make everything official.”

“We’ll be right back,” Mrs.Curtis promises them all, standing up and placing Ponyboy down on her chair but not before kissing his cheek almost absentmindedly, the way he’d seen moms at the park near Mr.Fuller’s house do with their babies sometimes, “be good boys for me.”

“Darry, keep an eye on your brothers, will you?” Mr Curtis adds, and Darry nods easily from where he’s lounging in his seat, reading a magazine.

“Does Johnny need to come in too?” Mrs.Curtis wonders as she follows the social worker into the office.

“He can if he wants to, but it’s not necessary for this part.”

“Well Johnnycake?” That was Mr.Curtis, looking at Johnny like he was the whole dang world, and Pony feels the same hatred from earlier bubbling up inside him, which definitely wasn’t fair, especially after Johnny and Mrs.Curtis and all of them had been so very nice to him all day. “Whaddya say? You wanna come with us or wait here with your brothers? We won’t be long.”

Johnny kind of shrinks with everyone's eyes on him. Pony knows the feeling.

“I’ll stay out here.”

“Ok kiddo,” Mr Curtis ruffles Johnny’s hair and follows his wife into the office. 

Even though he has no reason to be worried, the sight of the closed office door with its faded paint and frosted windows makes Ponyboy’s heart sink. Logically he knows its stupid, that something good is happening behind it, that it’s making it so Johnny can get adopted, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s the same door that closed behind his mother when the state made her sign away custody of him, and that it’s the same office every foster parent who ever returned him ran to as soon as they stepped inside the child services centre.

“Hey,” Johnny nudges him gently, keeping his voice low so Soda and Darry- who appear to be arguing, though Ponyboy can’t tell what about- can’t hear, “you ok?”

Johnny’s got eyes that are inky black and a scar on his head that says maybe he’s got a past life a whole lot like Pony’s current one.

“I-I don’t know.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Pony breathes. He glances at the shut door again. 

“That’s okay.” Johnny promises, simple and sure and kind. “You don’t have to know.”

Pony can tell then that Johnny really does understand, maybe more than anyone has ever understood before.

They lapse into silence. Soda appears to be trying to convince Darry to read out the advice column of the magazine, while Darry is doing his best to ignore him and read one of the sports articles. 

“Johnny,” Pony murmurs while Soda is dramatically wailing about the merits of Dear Abby and the plights of many he needs to weigh in on, “can-can I ask you somethin’? You don’t gotta answer if you don’t wanna.”

“Ok.”

“Did they take your mom away too?” 

Johnny doesn’t say anything but his eyes flash dangerously and Pony finds himself trying to explain.

“It’s only- they took my mom. First they took her away in a different police car, and then they took her into Ms.Summers’ office and then she was gone and I wasn’t allowed to see her anymore.”

Johnny raises a hand to his mouth, chews anxiously on his thumbnail.

“Yeah,” He admits softly after a minute, “yeah they took her. My dad too.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” 

Ponyboy kicks his legs, trying his best not to glance at Johnny. He often had trouble meeting people’s eyes, but that went double anytime he was uncomfortable.

“What about your dad?” Johnny asks after a minute, looking anywhere but at Ponyboy.

Pony blinks. “What about him?”

“Did they take him too?”

“No,” Ponyboy shakes his head, “he’s in jail. I don’t even know what he looks like.”

“I’m sorry.”

“S’okay.” Ponyboy shrugs. It really is too. He didn’t spend much time thinking about his dad, mostly because he usually forgot he ever had one. 

“Pony?”

“Yeah?”

“You ever miss your mom?”

“Yeah,” Pony admits quietly. It feels blasphemous, even as he says it, but it is true, “sometimes. But I still don’t ever wanna go back to living with her ever again.”

Mom was cold and mean with her vicious hands and quick temper, for all she could be nice sometimes. She’d pressed his hand to the hot stove once and threw stuff at him everyday, even if she did read him bedtime stories a few times a week. He’d had worse foster parents since they took him away, but not by much, and those people weren’t his mom. It made sense they didn’t want him. It never made sense why she didn’t.

“Me neither,” Johnny agrees.

“It’s different though,” Pony points out, “you got the Curtis’ now. No wonder you don’t wanna go back.”

“It ain’t different,” Johnny glares, and suddenly he looks like every kid in every group home Pony’s ever met, mean and defeated, “it don’t change the fact she didn’t love me even when I wanted her to.”

“Hey you two,” Darry’s suddenly in front of them, hands on his hips and a frown on his face, “how come you’re arguin’?”

They both hesitate.

“I was bein’ mean,” Pony admits, shamefaced, looking straight at Johnny, “You’re right it ain’t different. I’m sorry Johnny.”

Johnny’s eyes stay hard for a second until they melt back to something soft.

“It’s okay.”

He understands. Pony sighs, relieved.

“Ok,” Darry looks confused, “ well. Glad y’all are good.” 

He sits down again.

Pony can’t help it. He giggles.

“What’re you laughin’ at, huh kid?” Darry sounds mad but he’s smiling as he says it, so Pony thinks maybe he’s only pretending to be.

“Your face.”

“My face?”

“Yeah,” Pony says, “you look funny.” He demonstrates, pulling an exaggerated version of Darry’s puzzled frown, and Johnny laughs.

“Funny huh?”  Darry exchanges a grin with Soda, Johnny perking up beside him, eyes lighting in understanding, “we’ll show you funny.”

The next thing Pony knows he’s being tickled to death, all three older boys teaming up against him until he’s squealing and red faced from laughter, begging for mercy.

“What on earth is going on out here?”

Pony freezes. Darry, Soda, and Johnny all do too.

Ms.Summers has emerged from her office, hands propped on her hips, eyes blazing. She looks mad. Proper mad. The kind of mad adults get before they slap him or send him to bed without food.

Without really meaning to, Pony scoots a little behind Darry.

“Sorry ma'am,” Darry steps a bit more in front of him, putting himself in front of Soda and Johnny too, and gives Ms.Summers a winning smile, “we were just playin’ around. We didn’t mean to get so loud. We’ll be more quiet from now on.”

“See to it that you do. Where are your parents?”

“Signing some paperwork with your colleague, ma’am.”

“Hm,” Ms. Summers huffs, “well, behave yourselves until they get back. Ponyboy, if you can’t be good you’ll have to sit in the corner again without your new friends. Do you understand?”

Ponyboy forces himself to meet her gaze. She never liked it when he was impolite, and that meant he had to look at her when he was speaking.

“Yes ma’am,” he manages, just barely above a mumble. Ms.Summers hates mumbling.

“Good.” She gives them one last severe look and closes her office door with a snap.

As soon as she’s gone Soda starts snickering.

“Did you see her face?” He pulls an exaggerated frown, eyebrows scrunched down and cheeks puffed out a bit, and props his hands on hips the way Ms.Summers had a second a minute ago.

 “Stop bein’ loud!” He mocks in a high falsetto, a poor approximation of Ms.Summer’s actual voice, “no havin’ fun on my watch!”

Pony laughs. He’s learning that Darry wasn’t wrong earlier when he said Soda was just like that. 

“Ok, ok, settle down,” Darry chides, but even he cracks a grin, “c’mon and sit again, and I’ll read out that stupid advice column.”

“It’s not stupid!” Soda protests, but he obeys, pulling Johnny down beside him. It seems almost reflexive, Soda dragging Johnny around absentmindedly and the shorter boy following him without question. 

“You too kid,” Darry nudges Pony gently, “come sit.”

Pony sits and tries to listen to Darry’s soothing baritone, but finds he can’t quite focus on the story. Instead, he worries. 

Mrs. and Mr. Curtis are still in the social worker’s office but he can’t imagine they will be for much longer, and when they come back out the papers will be signed and Johnny will officially be theirs, and they’ll leave.

Ponyboy really doesn’t want them to leave. Not Mrs.Curtis, who’d held him in her arms and let him sleep on her lap, or Mr.Curtis, who never looked scary even when he was stern, and whose eyes were always laughing, even when they shouldn't be. He doesn’t want Soda and his effervescent energy to leave, returning the waiting room to the same, stuffy, suffocating place it always was before today. He doesn’t want Johnny to leave, even though he’s happy for him, because Johnny wasn’t mean but he also understood things, and that was something Pony had never found in any other person, ever. Most of all, he doesn’t want Darry to leave, because Darry just saved him from Ms.Summers like some sort of superhero, and because he’d never been mean to him. Every other teenager Pony came into contact with hurt him or ignored him, but Darry Curtis hadn’t, not once.

He knew this would happen. As soon as he put down his book and went over to play cards he knew he’d get attached. He can feel hot tears prick at his eyes but he blinks them away rapidly. He’s not some stupid little baby. He is not going to cry just because one family was nice to him for one day and now he doesn’t ever want to see them go. That’s stupid.

Maybe he should go back to the corner. Tell Darry he isn’t feeling well and hide behind Great Expectations until they’re gone. It might hurt less if he could do the leaving first.

He’s still psyching himself up to move away from Darry’s soothing voice when the social worker’s door flies open. Instead of the Curtis’ leaving though, the curly haired social worker hurries out, casting a curious glance in their direction as she knocks on Ms.Summers’ door.

“Keisha, could you give me a hand with something, please?”

“Of course.” Ms.Summers emerges from her office looking equally as puzzled, and follows her coworker into the other office.

Johnny and Pony exchange a look. He can see the alarm in the older boy’s black eyes and wishes he could reassure him, but anything he said would sound false to his own ears. Any kid who’s ever been in the foster system knows that things go badly when the social workers start acting like that.

“What’s goin’ on?” Soda sounds scared, looking up at Darry with wide, frightened eyes, “they ain’t…I mean, they promised Johnny could stay for good, right Dar? They said they got the papers and everythin’.”

“Everything’s fine,” to his credit, Darry sounds so sure Ponyboy could almost believe him, “Johnny’s ours for sure, that ain’t in question.”

He ruffles Johnny’s hair, and the dark haired boy manages a weak grin, but Ponyboy can still see the panic he’s trying to hide in the way his hands are trembling, tucked under his thighs. He doesn’t believe him, not really. Pony doesn’t either. Pretty lies are and always will be just that: lies.

“Y’know…” Darry looks at the closed office door, something like realization dawning, “I think things’re gonna be more than ok actually.”

“What do you mean?” Soda wonders. 

Darry shakes his head, suddenly fighting a grin. It’s such a stark 180 from the worry he was trying to hide a second ago it’s a little startling.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Darry!”

“Seriously, little buddy, don’t worry about it.”

“You oughta tell me,” that was Johnny, voice small, “if you know something I don’t. It’s my life we’re talking about here.”

“You’re gonna be just fine Johnnycake,” Darry promises, “I mean it. We all are.”

They will be. Pony is glad for them, as much as he can be- which currently isn’t much, with the envy and the loneliness battling for dominance in his gut. 

“All of us.” Darry looks right at him, blue green eyes bright, “that means you too Ponyboy.”

He’s trying to be nice. Ponyboy knows he’s trying to be nice, but it still stings knowing their fine is so much better than his own. Their kind of fine meant love and safety and warmth. His meant survival and a half decent dinner. Sure, they’d all be fine. But not the same.

He’s saved from having to say anything by the office door opening.

“-tell him.” Mrs.Curtis is saying, Mr Curtis beside her with a thick manilla envelope and a smile shining brighter than the sun.

“There’s my boy,” Pony thinks Mr Curtis looks like a boy himself, his handsome face young, open and  joyous as he crosses the room in three steps and sweeps Johnny into a bear hug, picking him up and swinging him around, “how does it feel to officially be Johnny Curtis, huh?”

Soda perks up.

“It’s official?”

“Signed and sealed,” Mr. Curtis presses a kiss to Johnny’s hair and sets him down, but keeps an arm around his shoulders, “just gotta file these with the judge downtown.”

Soda cheers, and Darry lets out a whoop, both of them swarming Johnny and Mr.Curtis, half tackling them until they’re all wrapped up in one group hug, and it’s the best thing Ponyboy’s ever seen and all he wants to do is cry.

A touch on his head has him flinching away before he realizes it’s just Mrs.Curtis gently carding her fingers through his hair, watching her husband and three sons fondly before looking down at him.

“They’re real special, aren’t they?”

“Yes ma’am.” Pony agrees. 

She hums, and Pony can’t help but lean into her gentle touch. They’ll be leaving soon. She’ll be leaving soon. It’s okay, he thinks, to enjoy her kindness as long as possible. He’d already tried not to, and it hadn’t worked. Trying to ignore Mrs.Curtis’ love was like trying to ignore his growling stomach on the nights he went to bed hungry. No matter how hard he tried to forget it, when he next got a taste of food he couldn’t help himself from eating as much as he could stomach, simply because he didn’t know how long it would be until his next proper meal.

“Y’know,” Mrs. Curtis says, “I think you’re pretty special too.”

Her smile changes, still soft but now there’s a secret hiding in her eyes, and a specific kind of love Pony doesn’t understand pulling at the dimple in her cheek. 

“I talked to Ms.Summers,” she says, and Pony’s heart twists. Ms.Summers has a way of making him into a bother to people who don’t even know him. He doesn’t want Mrs.Curtis to think that, “and she said you don’t have anyone to go home to tonight. So I thought maybe you might wanna come home with me and the boys.”

His heart stops.

“W-what?”

“Well,” she sounds almost casual, but her shining eyes and mischievous grin give away how false it is, like Darry’s had when they were playing cards earlier, an actor on life’s stage, “there’s an extra bed in Darry’s room, now that Johnny and Soda have bunk beds, and some chocolate cake in the fridge I really think you’d like. Besides, Soda and Johnny are always talkin’ about how they wished they had a little brother to teach things to, and I know they had a ball playin’ cards with you earlier. So what do you say? You want to come stay with us for a while?”

He wants to. More than anything he wants to. It sounds like a dream come true, like a storybook come to life. He lets himself imagine it, sharing a room with Darry of all people, eating chocolate cake with Mrs.Curtis, and getting to play with Soda and Johnny who actually liked him, maybe even not having to worry about being slapped all the time.

“Why?” he has to know. It doesn’t make sense why she would offer this. She has enough little boys, with Soda, Johnny and Darry. Why would she want him too? “Why would you wanna take me? You don’t need me.”

She wasn’t like Mr.Fuller, who’d needed an extra hand to help out on the farm, or Mrs. Delvine who had three babies and no husband. Mrs.Curtis has a husband who looks at her like she hung the stars and three boys already to help her out with chores. She doesn’t need him. It doesn’t make sense.

“Oh honey,” her eyes get sad, and Pony hates himself for making them that way even if he doesn’t know what exactly it is that he did, “I think I do need you. I think all of us do. But more than that I think you need me.”

“I ain’t your baby,” Pony reminds her, because it feels like maybe she’s forgotten that, and it doesn’t matter if he feels like he does need her, because she ain’t his mom and she doesn’t deserve to be stuck with him. “You got no reason to be stuck with me.”

“Hmm,” her mouth presses into a thin line, but she doesn’t look angry. Stern maybe, but that doesn’t feel quite right either, “you cried in my arms and slept on my knee, so I think you are my baby now, at least a little bit. I got more babies than just the three I brought with me today, and I needed all of them just as much as they needed me. So.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” she cups his cheek, “there’s Soda’s friend Steve, and Darry’s friend Keith, and Johnny’s friend Dally. And they’ve all cried in my arms and slept on my knee at least once, and they always come stay at my house whenever they need. And they didn’t grow in my belly but they grew in my heart and they’re still my babies anyway. So I think you could be too. If you want.”

If he wants. Ponyboy is used to wanting things, and even more used to not getting any of them, but he can be one of Mrs.Curtis’ babies if he wants. 

“Really?”

“Really.” She promises.

“Ok,” he breathes, “ok, yes, I’ll go with you.”

“We’re keeping Ponyboy too?” Soda whoops, half jumping on Mrs.Curtis in his excitement,  “this is the best day ever!”

“I knew it,” Darry claims, shaking his head at his parents but grinning all the same, “I knew as soon as that other social worker got called in there that you two just couldn’t leave him here if you tried.”

He knuckles Pony’s hair and grins down at him, inviting him to share the joke. Pony thinks he might actually be dreaming, because he still can’t quite bring himself to believe this is happening, that he’s gonna stay with the Curtis’.

“I’m real glad you’re coming with us,” Johnny murmurs in his ear, as Ms.Summers hands Mr.Curtis  Pony’s file and his meagre backpack of belongings, before bidding him a perfunctory farewell.  Ponyboy can’t help but agree. He’s real glad he’s going with them too.

It won’t last forever. Hell, it might not even last a week. They could get sick of him or he could get moved anytime, but as Mrs.Curtis takes his hand, and he follows the Curtis family out of the family services office and towards his latest new life, Ponyboy Hewitt lets himself believe for the first time that maybe, somehow, this fairytale might last. 

[peppymintdreams]

What If Luca Didn’t Go to the Party

This is my first ever Zsakuva Fanfic so bear with me on this 🙏🏿

masterlist

It was a late Thursday evening. Luca was lying in his dorm room, staring at the ceiling and feeling empty. He had finished all he needed to do, and all that was left was to relax. He had been invited to a party but didn’t feel like going. What would he even do at a party? It came as a shock when someone actually invited him; it must’ve been a joke to get a reaction out of him—who knows? The night was quiet, aside from the occasional ventilation turning on and off, the faint sounds of upbeat music echoing across the campus, and moans of couples haunting the hallways. Here he was, alone in his bed.

Deciding to make a stand, he put on his nice clothes and headed for the door, determined to make his presence known at the university. But when his hand touched the door, something changed. Visions of doubt, insecurities, and the years of bullying he’d endured flooded his mind. He wanted to be strong; he wanted to try something new, but the pain was just too much to handle. What was he to do—stay home and let his insecurities and doubts win, or let himself be free? It took everything in his power to keep his hand on the doorknob and turn it fully. He was almost there, the door beginning to open, his vision starting to blur. It felt like time was running out if he didn’t make a decision. In the end… he shut the door and locked it.

“Weak,” that’s all he could hear in his head. A weak person, he thought. He lay down on the sofa, turned the TV on, and watched whatever was playing, tears streaming down his face. What was he to become if he couldn’t even muster up the courage to just be a person?

His phone lit up with a notification from his mom. She was his safe place, the person he could turn to whenever something went wrong and he didn’t know the answer. He called her and waited as the line buzzed. “Hello,” she said, her voice like a cloud—so soft and welcoming.

“Mom, I—” he stuttered, tears rolling down his face.

“Hey, honey!” she spoke with excitement; just getting a call from her son made her day, judging by the silence and occasional weeping on the other line. “What’s wrong, baby?” Anytime Luca was sad or upset, his parents were there for him, no matter what giant missile life threw at him.

“Mom, I don’t know what to do,” he began to cry, his voice cracking, He had explained to her about his invite to the party and what just happened and the meltdown he had.

“Aww, baby, it’s okay to not know the answer.” Hearing his mom understand him relaxed him, calming his breath. “Sweetheart, I understand how you’re feeling. It’s completely normal to be scared about going to a party, especially when you’re unsure of what to expect. Remember, it’s okay to feel nervous.”

His breath hitched; he began to hiccup. “Maybe you could talk to a friend who’s going and see how they feel about it?” Thinking about what she said, he realized he didn’t really have any friends in university or anywhere in London. So, what was the next best option?

“Think about what you might enjoy about the party—like meeting new people or having fun with friends. If you decide to go, just be yourself. And if you feel uncomfortable at any point, it’s okay to leave. Your feelings matter, and I’m here to support you, no matter what you choose.”

He began to calm down. Just a couple of minutes ago, it felt like the weight of the world was crashing down on him, but hearing his mother’s voice was enough to wash away everything. He wanted to change the topic to avoid the emotional roller coaster he had just thrown at her, but then he heard a door open and a heavy grunt—Luca’s dad was home.

“I have to go, Luca; your father just got back from the store. But we can talk tomorrow. Does that sound good?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Luca replied. There was nothing more he enjoyed than unwinding with his mother; she always had the right answer.

“Mom, I do have one more thing to say.” There was something that had been bothering him lately, and he needed the answer to free his mind. “Can it wait until tomorrow, dear? Your father appears to be struggling.” Disappointed, he reluctantly agreed.

“Of course, Mom,” he said sadly. Judging by his tone, his mom could tell he wanted to talk but couldn’t stop himself from waiting. His father did have a bad back.

“Well, okay. I have to go. Mommy and Daddy love you very much, Luca. Kisses,” she said.

“I love you too, Mom.” She hung up as soon as he responded; she was in a rush. He understood his parents had their own lives, but they always made time for him.

Turning off his phone, Luca made up his mind. Grabbing his laptop that was still on the coffee table, he looked for available flights home after his graduation. There was no one he had to stay with; he didn’t have friends here, and he wasn’t in a relationship this town wouldn’t miss him. Luca let out a heavy breath and flipped through the channels, trying to relax. “I’m here,” he thought. He felt comfortable. Soon, in the next few months, he’d be home—there’s no place like home.

Not more than a couple of miles away, a lonely person stood next to a table full of drinks. They seemed dazed and confused. “Ayo ___, come and dance with me,” a friend said. Looking at them, they replied, “Meh, I don’t know.”

Their friend looked at them, concerned. “Yo ___, you alright? You seem troubled.” They were troubled; something didn’t feel right. He took their hand, wrapping his other arm around their waist, twirling them to him. Nothing else mattered but having ___ someone he longed to hold in his arms, someone he was now face to face with, just a few inches apart.

“I don’t know; I just have a weird feeling,” they said, backing up and looking around.

“Feeling? Like what?” he asked.

“Like someone was supposed to be here…”

[wolfintestinez]

ADAM STANHEIGHT HEADCANONS : 📼

hi hi ! here’s a few of my headcanons ! it’s not all of them but it’s the ones i have down, at the very least. 🗡️

- religious wendys / burger king eater.

- also a huge pepsi drinker, he rarely drinks anything else.

- as before, i am a tongue piercing truther, but it’s the only piercing he has. he’s scared of needles and it was a stupid thing that scott convinced him to do, he barely made it out of the healing process.

- it’s often he is rolling it around in his mouth without even realizing it, like he’s fidgeting.

- if he’s not listening to his ‘obscure’ hardcore bands, he’s listening to shit like oingo boingo. he will NOT admit it.

- he sticks around scott because he didn’t make too many friends in highschool, and he can’t stand the idea of having to start anew when it comes to the whole social scene. besides, being friends with scott has its perks (even if it means dealing with the toxicity). for example, there’s always something to do on a friday night.

- he didn’t drop out of highschool, but he did drop out of community college. he couldn’t be motivated to actually decide on what to do with his life, so he chose the only hobby he really enjoyed and made a career out of it. needless to say, his parents were not happy.

- speaking of his parents , he’s only close with his mother (kind of). his parents weren’t married, and have an odd relationship. his father is negligent, and pretty much just an asshole, while his mother cared about him enough to try and help when she could. but most of the time she stands by his fathers side, trying to play mediator.

- he only hates his father more as he sees his temper in himself. he’s angry, but he’s not sure what he’s ever exactly angry at. if anything, he’s an all around emotional guy, he just doesn’t know how to display them. he tends to blow up when overwhelmed.

- awkwardly charismatic, we can see this in the deleted ‘rockstar’ scene. it’s the weird bouts of confidence he gets, but it can so easily be torn down and his sarcastic self defense mechanism gets kicked in.

- undiagnosed autistic IDC IDC !!! his special interest is photography and biology. weirdly enough, he always had the highest grades in his biology classes.

- when he drinks he’s a lot more social, but he can get out of control really fast. an impulsive drinker if anything. he can get stupid and start fights that he definitely cannot win.

- sort of insecure when in relationships, but he doesn’t ever have the guts to speak about until he’s making snide remarks and blowing up a few days later.

- has way too much knowledge over b-list horror movies, it annoys anyone who’s watching one with him. he really enjoys killer klowns from outer space.

- a cat person, he feeds the strays outside of his apartment complex. if he knew that he could support a pet financially, he would take on in.

- very blunt with his opinions, which will also get him into a lot of trouble. if he thinks your favorite movie of artist is bad, then he’s gonna say it.

- a touch starved loser, but he’s not good at initiating it. but as soon as he gets the go ahead, there’s no boundary doubting him.

[autistichalsin]

My chapter-by chapter analysis of The Hunger Games, chapter 1

Disclaimer: this and all future chapter analyses will contain spoilers for all the books.

What really strikes me about this chapter is what a masterpiece it is; a masterpiece of foreshadowing, establishing moments of characterization, worldbuilding and more, all without ever feeling like we're actually getting infodumped on. This is accomplished with Katniss's stream-of-consciousness storytelling. I've heard it criticized so much, but even aside from the very salient point that it fits her characterization as an emotionally stunted, traumatized, poorly-educated teenage girl, it still helps the story in moments like this. We feel Katniss's inner chaos, and it makes the story that much more immersive.

On to the spoilery part of the analysis:

When I wake up, the other side of the bed is cold. My fingers stretch out, seeking Prim’s warmth but finding only the rough canvas cover of the mattress.

There was a post, a while ago, that I can't find but wish I could. In it, the OP talks about how Prim is literally doomed by the narrative, not "heavily foreshadowed death," but literally doomed by the narrative, and this paragraph is the first sign, because Katniss reaches for Prim and feels emptiness instead. And re-reading this, I agree. The first thing we see Katniss do is reach for Prim, and find nothing. This time, it's temporary, but by the end of the series, it won't be. We've been warned, even if we don't realize it yet: Prim is doomed.

Scrawny kitten, belly swollen with worms, crawling with fleas. The last thing I needed was another mouth to feed. But Prim begged so hard, cried even, I had to let him stay. It turned out okay. My mother got rid of the vermin and he’s a born mouser. Even catches the occasional rat. Sometimes, when I clean a kill, I feed Buttercup the entrails. He has stopped hissing at me.

Katniss loves her sister and will do literally anything for her. Katniss also has no moral qualms about drowning kittens. With just one paragraph, we learn what a simultaneously harshly practical yet beautifully caring, loving person Katniss is. She has no room in her life for useless things like pets, and drowning strays probably helps the people of 12 in the long run by leaving vermin to be eaten by those on the verge of starvation. But her sister wants to keep Buttercup, and so she will. Katniss will sacrifice anything to keep Prim happy.

Foreshadowing. Prim is doomed.

Entrails. No hissing. This is the closest we will ever come to love.

STILL more foreshadowing, for different themes: both for one of Katniss's biggest complexes (I'll get into details about this later) and for the theme of love. Katniss doesn't truly love anyone but Prim. Her entire world, we know, is going to be shaken when she does finally feel that for someone else again. Once again, we are being introduced to the recurring themes of love vs practicality and the classic question, "how much pain is love worth?"

Katniss is going to answer this question again and again: for Prim, there is no amount of suffering too great. For others... she'll find different answers. Eventually.

My father knew and he taught me some before he was blown to bits in a mine explosion. There was nothing even to bury. I was eleven then. Five years later, I still wake up screaming for him to run.

The first hints of Katniss as a deeply traumatized girl emerge. Sometimes, when you're traumatized enough, thoughts can segue into The Event with no warning, just by proximity. And through the combination of blunted language and stream-of-consciousness leaps, we can see just how broken this has left Katniss. Unfortunately, this is only the start of Events for her.

My father could have made good money selling them, but if the officials found out he would have been publicly executed for inciting a rebellion. Most of the Peacekeepers turn a blind eye to the few of us who hunt because they’re as hungry for fresh meat as anybody is. In fact, they’re among our best customers.

A brilliant bit of worldbuilding. The Peacekeepers are working off of deeply corrupt laws, which they ignore because they too are being mistreated and systematically starved, even if they aren't as at risk as the people of 12. The system doesn't care about the very same people it safeguards to enforce its rules. This is the first hint we get that the system isn't sustainable, and it comes before we even fully understand what kind of hell this government is.

The theme of "bread and circuses" is going to be hammered down to us again and again that this is how tyrannical governments, including this one, pacify the masses. But when only the bourgeoisie are being given the bread and circuses, well.... the proletariat aren't going to take it forever.

The book hasn't shown itself to be the anti-capitalist masterpiece it is yet, but this is the first hint that we're reading a tale of class warfare.

“District Twelve. Where you can starve to death in safety,” I mutter. Then I glance quickly over my shoulder. Even here, even in the middle of nowhere, you worry someone might overhear you.

I have seen criticisms that this is an egregious case of showing and not telling, with Katniss constantly talking about the dangers of badmouthing the government while never facing them. But in truth, it's the opposite. Yes, Katniss hasn't been caught despite repeated statements that she could have, but we'll learn, here and in future chapters, that 12 has been receiving a sort of tradeoff with other districts; their more severe poverty places them below notice. No one thinks them capable of causing real trouble, and even their district specialty- coal- is later proven to be basically useless, busy-work. So they get ignored... for now. Until the oligarchs start seeing what the proletariat can actually do and crack down all the harder to ensure they keep their cheap labor.

Are you seeing the resonance with the real world yet?

Even at home, where I am less pleasant, I avoid discussing tricky topics. Like the reaping, or food shortages, or the Hunger Games. Prim might begin to repeat my words and then where would we be?

Here we see the dual themes of parentification and sacrifice. Katniss will be the adult, even though she ISN'T an adult, for her sister. She will keep quiet on things that hurt her, and upset her, to set a better example for her sister and keep her from getting hurt. Prim gets to have the normal and safe childhood Katniss never had, because Katniss has invested everything into ensuring she does.

We are taking a step up the ladder of self-sacrificial acts, here. In other words: more foreshadowing. Katniss will give everything for Prim. Prim is going to die, because Katniss is going to lose everything she cared about in the process of protecting everything she cared about.

In the woods waits the only person with whom I can be myself.

Katniss can't be a teenage girl. She has to be Prim's mom. She has to be tough. She has to be a provider. She has to be a trader. An advocate. She so rarely complains about it, too. But it shows here just how much she's given up. Only one place, and one person she can be herself with, and yet...

Gale.

Isn't this ironic. Because we are about to see, throughout the entire series, that this day is going to be the last time Gale actually lets Katniss be herself (and even here, there are strong hints that Gale wants Katniss to be something very different).*

*Disclaimer, because it seems important: my opinion on the Katniss/Gale vs Katniss/Peeta ship war is "team nobody." I think both of them were very bad for her in different ways. Any comment I make that seems like it is favoring one ship or the other... isn't.

“Hey, Catnip,” says Gale. My real name is Katniss, but when I first told him, I had barely whispered it. So he thought I’d said Catnip. Then when this crazy lynx started following me around the woods looking for handouts, it became his official nickname for me.

Maybe I'm overanalyzing, but I feel like this sums up the Katniss/Gale relationship so much. Katniss tries to speak, and Gale doesn't hear or understand her. Gale projects something onto her, and Katniss rolls with it. Sure, in this case it's a cute nickname, but it represents so much more to me.

Gale doesn't understand Katniss. Fundamentally. He understands the Katniss he wants to exist. The one who will run off with him and play house in the woods and indulge his little fantasies. He doesn't know very much about the real Katniss, at least as long as he's looking at her through a romantic lens.

“Look what I shot.” Gale holds up a loaf of bread with an arrow stuck in it, and I laugh.

Despite what I just said, I do love Gale and Katniss's friendship, and it breaks my heart that their friendship was as doomed as Prim. (Hint. Hint.) Katniss needed someone who understood the unique pain of parentification due not to abuse, but poverty- the kind where you aren't 'allowed' to feel angry at anyone within reach. Which is the worst kind of injustice. Getting mad at someone who harmed you is one thing, but getting mad at a system you can never (... yet) hope to change is different.

She must have really loved him to leave her home for the Seam.

It's said in a casual and sort of admiring way here. But Katniss is going to learn firsthand about the intersection between love and sacrifice. With the generational mirroring as a theme, especially between Katniss and Peeta, we're being given more foreshadowing that Katniss has self-sacrifice "in the blood."

I try to remember that when all I can see is the woman who sat by, blank and unreachable, while her children turned to skin and bones. I try to forgive her for my father’s sake. But to be honest, I’m not the forgiving type.

Another little glimpse into Katniss's pain and trauma. Her mom wasn't there when Katniss needed her most, and Katniss and Prim both almost died as a result. It wasn't her fault, and we see later that she regrets it deeply, but this still leaves scars. Your parents, above everyone else, are supposed to protect you. Katniss's mom didn't, Katniss nearly died, and because of that, Katniss had to sacrifice what remained of her childhood to become Prim's mom.

Katniss and Prim's relationship never goes back to just normal sisterhood after this. From the moment Mrs. Everdeen's trauma rendered her catatonic onwards, Katniss and Prim's relationship was infused with a mother-child dynamic that never left, not even when Mrs. Everdeen became well again.

It's so painful, all the more so because it's so real. I lived this with my little brother, albeit with stakes maybe 1% this high, when my mom became an alcoholic and my dad was too busy just trying to survive to really do anything. I was the one to take care of him emotionally, to show someone cared, to provoke my mom's anger so he wouldn't be hit, to make sure homework got done and he didn't skip school (I failed. Badly.) He still considers me more his parent than either of our parents. It never really goes away, even when you're both adults; that overdeveloped feeling of responsibility stays with you. Always.

And the worst part of it is when the parent who made you have to do this decides, on their own, that the time is right for them to come back. Katniss's mom is far more gracious about it than my own. She at least understood Katniss's pain, and didn't try to force the role on her; it happened only when Katniss was ready. But that too, as we'll see in a minute, was painfully real for me.

“I never want to have kids,” I say. “I might. If I didn’t live here,” says Gale. “But you do,” I say, irritated. “Forget it,” he snaps back. The conversation feels all wrong.

Once again, a hint that despite their sweet friendship and similarities, these are two tragically, fundamentally incompatible people. Katniss is in too much pain to think of ever having a family, and Gale is in too much pain to think of not ever having one. Katniss wants to survive the way she always has (which she doesn't realize isn't her destiny yet) and Gale wants to flee and survive literally any other way.

Both change in the end, but the underlying incompatibilities in their life approaches are still there.

And even if we did . . . even if we did . . . where did this stuff about having kids come from? There’s never been anything romantic between Gale and me. [...] Besides, if he wants kids, Gale won’t have any trouble finding a wife. He’s good-looking, he’s strong enough to handle the work in the mines, and he can hunt. You can tell by the way the girls whisper about him when he walks by in school that they want him. It makes me jealous but not for the reason people would think. Good hunting partners are hard to find.

A few very interesting things are happening here. One, we're getting another hint, first dropped during Katniss's thoughts about Buttercup, that Katniss has a pathological inability to believe others actually like her- romantically or otherwise. Part of it is low self-esteem, part of it is putting Prim on such a pedestal that Katniss feels she can never live up (and giving her more self-esteem issues) and feeling like anything she attributes to herself might take away from Prim, and part of it is just raw cynicism. And maybe a dash or two of the feeling of permanent othering trauma gives you. Especially when that trauma involves a realization that you're never going to be able to rely on others to meet your own needs. You're responsible for your needs and your loved ones' too.

(Katniss is one of the most complex and real characters of all time. I relate to Katniss an uncomfortable amount sometimes.)

The other interesting thing is that you're getting a sense, for the first time, of how much trouble Katniss has recognizing and processing her own emotions- a very common trait in neurodivergent people. She can sort-of-understand a feeling of jealousy, but can't quite put her finger on the reason, and fitting with her attitude of relentless practicality, she decides that it's the worry of losing a useful hunting partner. Because, after all, Prim is the only person she loves, she can't care for anyone else, there isn't room for that. To care about anyone else would be to "take away" something from Prim.

Katniss repeatedly raises the question of when self-sacrifice crosses the line into self-harm by proxy. When altruistic love becomes self-negation instead. It's sweet that she loves Prim so much, but the codependence... If this is the benchmark for love for Katniss, it's no wonder that she feels at this point that she can't feel it for anyone else. This isn't sustainable.

(Prim is doomed. We've been warned.)

I found the patch a few years ago, but Gale had the idea to string mesh nets around it to keep out the animals.

This is going to be a recurring theme; Katniss is too impulsive and lacking a sufficient cause-effect pathway to be a planner/strategist. Gale makes the plans now; later it'll be Peeta and Haymitch.

(Also, this is foreshadowing Katniss's lack of agency. She is about to become an audience member in her own life story. She found the strawberries, but she didn't decide what to do about them. Gale did. That's about to become her entire life.)

No one in the Seam would turn up their nose at a good leg of wild dog, but the Peacekeepers who come to the Hob can afford to be a little choosier.

There is a hierarchy still, where the Peacekeepers are starving, but not as starving as the people in the communities they're sent to. Everyone is hungry, but some are hungrier than others.

Hint. Hint.

“That’s not her fault,” I say. “No, it’s no one’s fault. Just the way it is,” says Gale.

"Remember who the real enemy is." Katniss gets told this repeatedly, by Haymitch and others, and eventually she learns the lesson in time to lead a successful revoltuion.

Gale does not learn this lesson. He will end up destroying everything he cares about in his pursuit of revenge against the Capitol and anyone associated with it.

Gale would normally say that there is a huge difference between Madge, the mayor's daughter who is pampered and comparatively privileged, versus the willfully malicious Peacekeepers; the middle class are still part of the proletariat, after all. But Gale, in his pain and fear, loses sight of it and lashes out. This time, it's just words. By the end of the series, when he gets actual power, it will lead to something far more catastrophic.

Prim is doomed to die, Gale and Katniss's friendship is doomed to end in the most bitter way possible, and Gale is doomed to be his own worst enemy.

Gale knows his anger at Madge is misdirected. On other days, deep in the woods, I’ve listened to him rant about how the tesserae are just another tool to cause misery in our district. A way to plant hatred between the starving workers of the Seam and those who can generally count on supper and thereby ensure we will never trust one another. “It’s to the Capitol’s advantage to have us divided among ourselves,” he might say if there were no ears to hear but mine. If it wasn’t reaping day. If a girl with a gold pin and no tesserae had not made what I’m sure she thought was a harmless comment.

Gale knows he's wrong to say things like that. But again, as said above, his pain and fear get the better of him, and cause pain to those around him. His normal philosophy is correct, but he loses sight of and discards it far too easily.

(Gale is going to lose everything because of his scorched-earth approach to anger.)

Also, a note: this is how the real world operates too. Culture wars to distract from class war. For an entire generation of readers, this was their introduction to the basic principles of socialism.

But what good is yelling about the Capitol in the middle of the woods? It doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t make things fair. It doesn’t fill our stomachs. In fact, it scares off the nearby game. I let him yell though. Better he does it in the woods than in the district.

Katniss is still hung up on practicality. When she rants about the Capitol, she is, subconsciously, crying for help. But venting for the sake of venting doesn't make so much sense to her, given her stunted emotions.

Another bit of characterization I really enjoy here is the realistic teenage behavior. Yes, they're the oldest in their families, responsible for their entire family and only able to support them by hunting, and they should "know better". But they're teenagers in a fascist government, with an already extreme list of traumas and corresponding problems with emotions. Of course they're going to act irrationally at times and scare off game because they're having a meltdown- even non-traumatized teens would do that sometimes!

They're teenagers. Incredibly well-written, realistic teenagers. They don't have fully developed frontal lobes with the corresponding gifts of planning, impulse control, cause-effect relationships, and other things yet. They're more mature than most, but they're still going to behave foolishly sometimes.

Prim is in my first reaping outfit, a skirt and ruffled blouse. It’s a bit big on her, but my mother has made it stay with pins.

This is probably a "the curtains are blue because they're blue!" moment, but this is another bit of symbolism I enjoy. Katniss, at Prim's age, was hunting and entering the Hob. Prim is being kept alive by both Katniss and Mrs. Everdeen. She has a dress that mostly fits. She has good meals now. She is protected where Katniss wasn't. The dress represents both the sacrifices Katniss made for her and the fact that now, Prim has the adoring mother Katniss didn't have. She has two loving people looking out for her, willing to do anything to keep her safe, healthy, and happy.

(Prim is doomed.)

To my surprise, my mother has laid out one of her own lovely dresses for me. A soft blue thing with matching shoes. “Are you sure?” I ask.

Katniss can't comprehend her mom doing motherly things for her. Both because of the parentification, and because Katniss still fundamentally can't believe that anyone, even her own mother, actually cares for her enough to want to do anything for her. Not after four years of Katniss carrying the entire family on her back. It's incompatible with the world she's lived in for the last four years.

Katniss is painfully relatable.

I’m trying to get past rejecting offers of help from her. For a while, I was so angry, I wouldn’t allow her to do anything for me.

Painfully. Relatable.

What Katniss is feeling in this scene, I don't think I can describe to anyone who hasn't been there. It's relief-bitterness-anger-hope-longing-mistrust.

"Oh great, look who's finally here to help now that things are okay again and I figured everything out on my own! I want you back. I want a parent back. I don't want to do this anymore. I can't stop it. I can't trust you not to make me do it again. I'd better keep doing it so I don't get my hopes up. How do I even live without doing this? How do I live as a person and not a caretaking robot for my family? Am I allowed to do that? What kind of selfish person would I be if I did, especially now that I've seen what will happen if you fail again? No, I'm not letting you do this. I'll let you pretend to the little one because they need a parent figure and they deserve to feel normal, but me? Hell no, do you think I'm stupid? I am taking care of myself, I already learned what it costs to trust other people to see to my needs and that is not a price I'll pay a second time, thankyouverymuch. Yeah, mom I love you. I'm glad you're okay now. And thanks for doing this for me, I guess."

It goes something like that.

But I digress.

In just this paragraph Katniss expresses so much of the pain of parentification, so succinctly yet vividly that it makes my chest hurt.

I just really, really love Katniss, okay?

“You look beautiful,” says Prim in a hushed voice. “And nothing like myself,” I say.

Ow. Just... ow. She says it so matter-of-factly. Like she's just accepted it into her worldview; Prim, the embodiment of everything good in the world, is beautiful. Katniss, the leftover, the thing that exists just to take care of Prim, is ugly. That simple.

I wish we could have seen Prim respond here; surely she doesn't like anyone, even her sister herself, talking about Katniss this way? Or maybe Prim is so used to these kinds of casual self-put-downs that she's stopped trying to talk Katniss out of it.

Again: painfully relatable.

I protect Prim in every way I can, but I’m powerless against the reaping. The anguish I always feel when she’s in pain wells up in my chest and threatens to register on my face.

Once more: Painfully. Relatable. You put so much into protecting 'your kiddo'. And then something comes along and reminds you that you're even more powerless than the useless adults in your life. It hurts. It feels like you failed. It's one thing for you to get hurt, you already know how to deal with it, but them?

Ugh. Dystopian fiction isn't usually where my inner abused and parentified child gets validated, but this series unlocked some things in my neural pathways.

Thank you, Suzanne Collins, for Katniss. I feel so seen in so many ways through her and her story.

Sorry. I know this is supposed to be an analysis, not a love letter, but damn if Katniss doesn't play my heartstrings like a fiddle.

“Tuck your tail in, little duck,” I say, smoothing the blouse back in place. Prim giggles and gives me a small “Quack.” “Quack yourself,” I say with a light laugh. The kind only Prim can draw out of me.

Sorry, I am going to try to not repeat myself so much, but once again it just... Prim gets to be a child, because of Katniss. She gets to be a normal-ish 12 year old who makes silly animal noises and can't tuck her dress in. Katniss was fighting for her life and trying to find food. And of course it's not Prim's fault- I love Prim. But there's something just so painful about this contrast. Katniss had her childhood stolen from her, first by the tyrannical government she lived in, then her father's death, then her mother's mental illness, and finally the needs of a child she never should have been responsible for.

It's no wonder Katniss spends so much of the series in that emotional state abused, neglected, and traumatized children know all too well. You're simultaneously precocious and childish. Too grown-up one minute and acting like a child the next. Katniss never got to experience linear growth, and her psychology sure as hell shows it.

Painfully. Relatable.

Also, yet again: Prim. Is. Doomed. She's the most important thing in Katniss's life, the rationale for every decision Katniss makes, the reason she gets out of bed in the morning. The one person who makes Katniss's life worth living. Precious, sweet Prim, who retains her innocence and kindness in a world that aggressively stomps out both, is doomed by the narrative in every possible way.

Anyway, Gale and I agree that if we have to choose between dying of hunger and a bullet in the head, the bullet would be much quicker. The space gets tighter, more claustrophobic as people arrive. [...] I stare at the paper slips in the girls’ ball. Twenty of them have Katniss Everdeen written on them in careful handwriting.

When you're a child, you can't comprehend something awful happening to your parents, because your life experience just hasn't shaped yet to show you that it's even possible. You don't understand that it can happen.

When you're an adult, you can't comprehend something awful happening to your child, because your life experience has shaped to show you exactly how it's possible. You know exactly how it can happen, so you can't believe that it can actually happen.

Katniss is at a stage of her life that would already be transitional in normal circumstances, where she'd start contemplating mortality- but she's already dealt with it for years.

Her own death doesn't scare her anymore. Her sister's scares her so much that she doesn't even think it's a possibility. After all, everything she's done for the last four years of her life has been for Prim. To keep her alive and give her the childhood Katniss lost suddenly and traumatically.

Prim is doomed.

Taking the kids from our districts, forcing them to kill one another while we watch — this is the Capitol’s way of reminding us how totally we are at their mercy.

We got hints of apathy and cruelty before, but now the curtain is, for the first time, being peeled back. This isn't a system built on simple oppression. It's a system built on raw sadism.

It's another sign that Panem isn't sustainable. People can endure a lot of cruelty when their loved ones are hostages, but there are limits. When those limits get pushed (hint), something will have to give.

To make it humiliating as well as torturous, the Capitol requires us to treat the Hunger Games as a festivity, a sporting event pitting every district against the others.

Bread and circuses. The poor give labor (food) and entertainment, and the rich receive them. The rich live sequestered lives full of privilege, yet ultimately just as much under the thumb as the tyrant as anyone else. But still supporting the system because they lack the empathy to want change when they benefit from the status quo more than they would from a new system, so they think. They are simultaneously disgusting and pitiful.

Like the comfortably wealthy Trump-supporting boomers we all know and loathe.

The last tribute alive receives a life of ease back home, and their district will be showered with prizes, largely consisting of food.

Our very first, incredibly subtle hint, that winning the games might be even worse than losing them. The first time reading, of course, you'll take this at face value. Later, though, you'll think of this and realize it was all only mockery and isolationism, a way of guaranteeing that the victors would be scapegoated by their District, ensuring they would never find companionship again even if their trauma didn't prevent it. And they can't complain, because, after all, they now have a life of comfort.

So many things are intersecting here; class warfare (Victors being an allegory for "temporarily embarrassed millionaires" and the American Dream) and the isolation of trauma and mental illness and more.

But suddenly I am thinking of Gale and his forty-two names in that big glass ball and how the odds are not in his favor. Not compared to a lot of the boys. And maybe he’s thinking the same thing about me because his face darkens and he turns away. “But there are still thousands of slips,” I wish I could whisper to him.

Katniss so rarely worries about herself, only those she cares for. Again; her own mortality is okay to her. It's those she protects she can't let this happen to. But since she can't even bear to face the possibility of Prim being chosen (Prim is doomed) yet, she focuses her feelings on Gale, not only worrying that he'll be picked, but worrying that he will be upset that she might be. She only spares thoughts for herself for a few brief seconds, in the next paragraph.

Katniss gets accused of being selfish so many times, but it's notable that those moments only happen once she volunteers to go into the arena, once her survival depends on a bit of selfishness. Before then, she's one of the least selfish people in the entire series, and I'd argue that even at her worst she doesn't count as truly selfish. She's a teenager trying to survive and return home to her family, not a toddler who won't share toys.

I’m feeling nauseous and so desperately hoping that it’s not me, that it’s not me, that it’s not me.

But, of course, even when you are theoretically okay with dying, being faced with the actual thing will still inspire terror. So for just a moment, Katniss lets herself lapse into worry about herself.

For just a moment, she thinks about herself- and just that fast, Prim is placed in danger.

(This is how Prim will die too, by the way; being put in danger the one time Katniss is focused on something other than her. Prim is doomed.)

Effie Trinket crosses back to the podium, smoothes the slip of paper, and reads out the name in a clear voice. And it’s not me. It’s Primrose Everdeen.

The unthinkable has happened, and Katniss's life has been changed forever.

And even though she can save Prim this time, it's only temporary.

Prim is doomed. Nothing in the world can prevent it now. Prim would die in the arena, but by going instead, Katniss has put herself in a position where any and all actions she does will spark a revolution that gives her a Pyrrhic victory.

There is no version of events where Prim lives.

Prim is doomed.

[honestlyreadingruinedmylife]

That’s amazing. Of course everyone needs to start somewhere. Of course I understand not everyone likes writing smut.

Young Charles Xavier x reader. She’s also has a mutation. She’s kicked out by her parents when they find out that her boyfriend is in a wheelchair. She turns up in the pouring rain with her puppy under her jacket to keep them dry and a black eye because her dad hit her (you don’t have to write that just imply it)

Hope that’s not to detailed but wanted to give you as much detail as I could to help you write it.

Can you please tag me in any future X-Men fanfiction you write.

Xx

A.N: Okay, I finally got around to finishing this. I'm actually quite proud of it given it's my first time EVER writing fanfiction and especially with it being a request. I hope you enjoy it even though it is a bit cliche at times. Also, there is slight ableism given the prompt, I did some research to make sure I wasn't using any slurs but if I am wrong PLEASE let me know. I will change it.

Word Count: 1251

Pairing: Young Charles Xavier x Female!Reader

Warnings: Ableism (Only a small sentence), gets kind angsty

You didn’t really know how they had found out. You were so careful. Building a wall of lies so thick and so far that you could no longer see the ends. 

You suppose that somewhere along the lines you’d missed a spot, one vital brick that tumbled down the entirety of your life. 

Your parents had only just started getting around to the idea of having a ‘freak’ of a daughter. Constantly telling you how lucky you were to at least look ‘normal’ and not like those ‘other ones’. 

You were one of the good ones. 

They had laid the rules out simply. They didn’t care about your abilities as long as they stayed outside the house and as long as you married a ‘regular human being’. It seemed simple enough and studying for a masters (which they paid for) you figured one more year of hiding wouldn’t be so difficult.

What you never considered was falling madly in love with another mutant. You’d been convinced for so long that you were completely alone in the walls you’d built, that when you met a man who could literally tear them apart you had no choice but to let yourself go.

The argument had started at dinner. It’d been a long day of research which had resulted in nothing but a dead end. Exhausted from sitting reading at a desk all day, you just wanted to get through the traditional family dinner and get straight into bed.

You were sitting in your usual chair, facing your mother while your father sat at the head of the table. It’d been eerily silent from the moment you’d sat down but didn’t mind given your exhaustion.

Suddenly, your father put down his utensils, “I’ve set up a dinner, next week with the neighbors boy,”

Thinking you hadn’t heard correctly, you turn to face him, “pardon?”

“It’s about time that you start thinking of settling down,” your father continues, “most normal girls your age are on their way to having their first child,”

You hear the implication in his voice even if he hadn’t outright said it. Irritated, you push your plate away.

“I am a normal girl, dad,” 

You hear your mother sigh, but you can’t seem to look away from your fathers face that twitches in irritation.

“You know what I meant,” he says your name as if it's a burden. He says it as if you were a curse on his normalcy.

You roll your eyes, “yes I know exactly what you meant, father, and I’m not going to be dressed up like some doll to be paraded for the neighbors boy,”

Another twitch, you know you are pushing him too far, but you can’t seem to care anymore.

“He is of good breeding and a wealthy background,” he picks up his utensils again, “the dinner will be on Monday,”

“Breeding?! I’m not cattle, father,” 

Your fathers face contorts into a scowl and you know he’s losing patience with you, “He will assure you are the last of your kind in my bloodline,”

You can feel your whole body shaking, “I will not go to that dinner, father,”

You hear your mother whisper your name, you suddenly realize that the shaking wasn’t just within your body but the whole house. With your emotions rampant you couldn’t control your powers as naturally as you normally could.

Breathing in and breathing out, you calm yourself enough to stop the shaking. Your father, however, is maroon with malice. You have pushed him too far.

“I will not let my grandchildren be the offspring of a freak and a paralytic!”

You feel your heart stop. Your mind is racing, unstoppable thoughts wreak havoc in your head. He knew. He knew and now your life is over.

“Father-”

“You thought I wouldn’t find out?” Your father continues to yell, “you thought I’d let you disobey me without consequence?”

You could feel your breathing increase as you enter a panic. Everything is muffled, your father continues yelling but you can’t hear a thing he is saying. You have to get away. You have to get to Charles. 

Without realizing, you stand, turning to leave the table, trying to find an escape. With one step, your father is in front of you, rough hands clamping down on your shoulders, forcing you still.

“Let me go,” you whisper, looking down away from your father. 

“I forbid you from seeing that man again!” 

“Let me go,” you feel the ground tremble beneath you.

“He’s one of you isn’t he?” Your fathers grip tightens on your shoulders, “he’s a freak!”

“Let me go!” You shout back in his face. You don’t initially feel the strike, but you can feel the heat begin to blossom around your eye. And you feel the ground erupt into endless shudders as you watch your father lose his balance and fall to the floor.

With the last of your strength, you run towards your room grabbing your research and your puppy that likes to sleep under your bed. As you race to the front door, you glance at your mother fussing over your father, who is still laid on the floor.

Stopping you turn to face your parents, “I am not a freak. Just because I am different doesn’t mean I’m lesser than,”

You turn to open the front door and with foot out your childhood home, you turn one last time, “I’ll never treat my children the way you’ve treated me, mutant or not,”

With those final words, you run into the rain, hailing the first taxi you see.

It wasn’t until you were at Charles’ front door, drenched and with your puppy under your coat, that you realized how bleak your situation truly was. 

No home, no parents, no education. 

With nothing left to lose, you knock as loudly as you can, hoping anyone would hear you over the pounding rain.

Almost immediately, the door swings open. 

Hank at first looks at you with confusion and then concern. He drags you inside and in the same breath yells for Charles.

The second you see Charles look of concern as he approaches you, you feel the tears start to form in your eyes. Finally able to let go, you feel yourself crumble with the weight of the night.

In no time, Charles holds you in his arms, stroking your soaked hair, whispering into your ear, “it’s okay darling you’re safe now, you’re safe here,”

Once you’ve calmed down, you pull away from him holding your own weight again. His hands don’t leave your face, careful with your already bruising eye.

He whispers your name. He whispers it like prayer, like there’s no one else in the world except you and him. He strokes your cheek with his thumb, “How about we run you a warm bath?”

With no strength left to speak and knowing you didn’t need to, you nod into his hands, closing your eyes and soaking in the comforting warmth he exudes. From within your jacket, you feel your puppy shuffle, stuck in between your torso and Charles’ legs. Pulling away slightly, your puppy leaps away from you and begins sniffing around Charles’ wheelchair.

“I see you’ve brought a friend, darling,” he chuckles, as he watches your puppy continuing to adventure.

You hiccup trying to find the words, “I couldn’t leave him in that house,”

Charles looks back at you, his blue eyes wide adoration, “he has a home here, he’ll always a home here,”

[onestormeynight]

Apologies

Several weeks had passed since Billie had confessed to Rosie. She hadn't attempted more than once text in that time, knowing how her best friend needed space when she was fuming. Eventually she was having a particularly down day and missed Rosie with a terrible ache.

<<i miss u>>

She didn't expect a response. If she did get one, she was expecting to have Rosie reach through the screen of the phone and tear Billie's face from her skull. She didn't deserve a response after what she did.

Which was why she was thrilled to receive three little letters.

<<OMW>>

Billie met Rosie on the porch. They stared at each other for a few moments. The hormones made it difficult for Billie to resist tearing up. Rosie was looking at the house with a mixture of feelings running across her face. Eventually they made eye contact.

"Hey," Rosie said.

"Hey."

There was silence again. Billie gestured at the front door. "Do you want to come in? It's getting hard for me to stand for long periods."

Rosie nodded and followed her into the house. It was weird to see; in some ways it looked exactly the way her mother had left it. In others, it was very much Billie's aesthetic. She saw Billie had kept most of Penny's garden blooming.

"I hired a gardener," Billie said. "I can't keep them alive, but they should still be tended. For Penny."

"You never did like getting your hands dirty."

"I still don't. I pay a lot for these nails and I'm not going to jack them up acting like I live in the forest."

Rosie sat down on the couch next to Billie. There was another awkward silence. Rosie was starting to regret coming over. Seeing Billie's stomach made her uncomfortable with a messy bag of feelings. She was happy for her friend to experience motherhood, but wanted to slap her still for her choice in baby daddy. On the other hand, she had seen them together; they were truly happy. Billie, who always had her head on a swivel for the next cute boy, had eyes finally for only one person.

"I know you don't want to hear it," Billie started. "But I need to say it again. I'm really, truly sorry, Rosalie. I really am. It really was just a good time at first and I knew you wouldn't care if we were partying together. That's not a betrayal. But I should have told you the second it got physical and I didn't. It's the biggest regret of my life, you have to believe me." Her voice was cracking and choking up, but she powered through her speech anyways.

"I have never been more sorry in my life. It kills me that I hurt you this bad. I would take it back if I could. I miss you. I miss my best friend."

Rosie's face was hard to read. Billie was shaking with nerves.

"Do you actually love him?" Rosie asked coolly. "This isn't just another one of your whims? Is Sam Mr. Monday?"

Billie shook her head. "No, he's Mr. Everyday. I do love him. I don't want to, but I do. Your brother is kind and gentle and forgiving. He listens. I'd be happy to marry him."

"If I asked you to break up, would you? Would you choose me over him?"

"Would you really ask that of me? I would. God, I hate this, but I would. If you really asked me to."

Rosie was quiet again, weighing everything her friend had said to her. They had been friends for literal decades with no fights. They barely had tiffs when they lived together. From the very first day they met in grade school, Billie had been on her side, had been her ride or die person. She made a huge mistake, but it was the only one in forty years of friendship.

"Okay."

"Okay what?"

"I forgive you."

Billie burst into tears, covering her face and grumbling about hormones and how sorry she was still. Rosie hugged her close while the emotions died down. She even shed a few tears herself.

"Never again, though," Rosie said. "Don't you ever betray me like that again, Billie Jang. Now, let me feel that baby."

Billie sniffed and wiped her eyes. "I literally can't understand how you carried two of these things at once. One is bad enough."

((prev)) ((next))

[shvroyism]

Crazy how I disagree with every single evelyncelia fancast

[dbphantom]

Hate having adhd went to go work on my fallout modpack, got distracted while going to disable the steam overlay, ended up in the points shop, went to go edit my profile, decided to change my pfp, found a buried folder I forgot existed, found some old Veneer art I forgot existed, spent 45 minutes looking at all the old photos, STILL HAVE NOT TOGGLED ONE SIMPLE OPTION THAT SHOULD'VE TAKEN 30 SECONDS AT MOST

[matineemonsters]

I know my period's about to start when I get really mad at my mom for stupid reasons out of the blue

but like, who else was out there forcing a 7th grader to read the fucking Epic of Gilgamesh

[nexus-nebulae]

god sometimes i wish the whole "you wouldn't say/do that to a physically disabled person" lie that certain mentally ill people say was true bc i fucking WISH i could use "I'm in a wheelchair" as a gotcha for people being ableist against me. unfortunately,

[toytulini]

i made an oc thats at least nicknamed "Stupid" and im constantly thinking about what a power move that is tbh